"That is my name. Who are you?" asked Isaac in great surprise.
"I am Girty. I've never seen you, but I knew Col. Zane and Jonathan well. I've seen your sister; you all favor one another."
"Are you Simon Girty?"
"Yes."
"I have heard of your influence with the Indians. Can you do anything to get me out of this?"
"How did you happen to git over here? You are not many miles from Wingenund's Camp," said Girty, giving Isaac another sharp look from his small black eyes.
"Girty, I assure you I am not a spy. I escaped from the Wyandot village on Mad River and after traveling three days I lost my way. I went to sleep in a thicket and when I awoke an Indian dog had found me. I heard voices and saw three Indians. I got up and ran, but they easily caught me."
"I know about you. Old Tarhe has a daughter who kept you from bein' ransomed."
"Yes, and I wish I were back there. I don't like the look of things."
"You are right, Zane. You got ketched at a bad time. The Indians are mad. I suppose you don't know that Col. Crawford massacred a lot of Indians a few days ago. It'll go hard with any white man that gits captured. I'm afraid I can't do nothin' for you."