Had her hand not encircled the hunter’s wrist, he would have experienced great difficulty in keeping beside her.
With every bound the yells grew more distinct, and presently they found a response from the wolves that trotted at Alaska’s heels.
CHAPTER XIV.
SQUAW VENGEANCE, AND SQUAW RAGE.
Mayne Fairfax and his red companion soon gained the immediate neighborhood of the exciting scene that was being enacted.
On the southern side of the village square, and before the door of the prison lodge, surged a crowd of women with disheveled tresses, and hands full of clubs, hatchets, and knives.
Against the door of the hut stood Tecumseh, with flashing eyes and drawn tomahawk; and confronting the chief were two gaunt hags—perfect furies in looks and contour—demanding the surrender to them and their supporters, of the two prisoners.
A short distance from the sachem stood Jim Girty, smiling upon the vengeful work of his hands.
Tecumseh maintained a firm and dignified bearing, though a close observer might have noticed sighs of trepidation, as his piercing eye took in the scene.
The leaders of the mob were the squaws, or Indian wives, of the chiefs Sagasto and Nethoto, slain by Oonalooska at the hermit’s cave. The mad women could not bide the time set apart by Tecumseh for the execution of the prisoners. Their hideous cries for blood, roused the village from slumber, and at the head of a motley crowd, composed of warriors, women, and children, they started to the prison-house. But Tecumseh, having been awakened, met them at the door, and refused them admittance.
He had recourse to many arguments to induce the rioters to return to their respective lodges, and wait till the coming day for the death of their prisoners; but they fell upon deaf ears.