Simon Girty knew the crisis had come; that but few moments were left him to decide as to the disposition of the Christians; and he thought seriously.  Certainly he did not want the Christians murdered.  However cruel his life, and great his misdeeds, he was still a man.  If possible, he desired to burn the village and ruin the religious influence, but without shedding blood.  Yet, with all his power, he was handicapped, and that by the very chiefs most nearly under his control.  He could not subdue this growing Christian influence without the help of Pipe and Half King.  To these savages a thing was either right or wrong.  He had sown the seed of unrest and jealousy in the savage breasts, and the fruit was the decree of death.  As far as these Indians were concerned, this decision was unalterable.

On the other hand, if he did not spread ruin over the Village of Peace, the missionaries would soon get such a grasp on the tribes that their hold would never be broken.  He could not allow that, even if he was forced to sacrifice the missionaries along with their converts, for he saw in the growth of this religion his own downfall.  The border must be hostile to the whites, or it could no longer be his home.  To be sure, he had aided the British in the Revolution, and could find a refuge among them; but this did not suit him.

He became an outcast because of failure to win the military promotion which he had so much coveted.  He had failed among his own people.  He had won a great position in an alien race, and he loved his power.  To sway men—­Indians, if not others—­to his will; to avenge himself for the fancied wrong done him; to be great, had been his unrelenting purpose.

He knew he must sacrifice the Christians, or eventually lose his own power.  He had no false ideas about the converted Indians.  He knew they were innocent; that they were a thousand times better off than the pagan Indians; that they had never harmed him, nor would they ever do so; but if he allowed them to spread their religion there was an end of Simon Girty.

His decision was characteristic of the man.  He would sacrifice any one, or all, to retain his supremacy.  He knew the fulfillment of the decree as laid down by Pipe and Half King would be known as his work.  His name, infamous now, would have an additional horror, and ever be remembered by posterity in unspeakable loathing, in unsoftening wrath.  He knew this, and deep down in his heart awoke a numbed chord of humanity that twinged with strange pain.  What awful work he must sanction to keep his vaunted power!  More bitter than all was the knowledge that to retain this hold over the indians he must commit a deed which, so far as the whites were concerned, would take away his great name, and brand him a coward.