“The pale giant should sing his death-song,” said the guard. “The great light of the Manitou nears the hills, and when the lesser lights come forth, we will lead the three to the trees.”
“Where’s Tecumseh?”
“Tecumseh sits in his lodge. He has spoken against the great Prophet, and the Manitou is angry with him. He can not save the enemies of the Shawnees from being skinned and burned.”
Hewitt knew that, and turned from the door.
In silence another hour passed, and through the crevices our three friends saw the light fade, and the stars come forth.
Suddenly many feet approached the prison, and the door was thrown open. A band of four-score warriors, headed by Jim Girty, greeted the eyes of the trio, and soon they were marching to the already blackened trees, at which more than one brave life had gone out amid flames.
“See!” cried Girty, thrusting into the hermit’s face, a blade which he had converted into a saw. “Didn’t I say that I would saw your skin off? By heaven! I’m going to do more than that! You shall eat that weakling’s heart;” and the brute’s hand pointed at Mayne Fairfax.
“Courage, boy, courage!” whispered the hermit, as the renegade returned to the head of the band. “If they just free my hands a moment, I’ll rid the world of a devil. I’ll make sure work of him, this time.”
“I fear not death!” answered the young man. “But the thought that I must leave Eudora in the hands of that demon. Oh, it is terrible!”
As the band hurried through the village Hewitt noticed the absence of the women and children, who always showed themselves on such occasions.