Nothing could be more revolting than that swarthy, evil face turned pale with fear.  Girty’s visage was a ghastly, livid white.  So earnest, so intense was Joe’s voice, that it seemed to all as if Wetzel was about to dart into the glade, with his avenging tomahawk uplifted to wreak an awful vengeance on the abductor.  The renegade’s white, craven heart contained no such thing as courage.  If he ever fought it was like a wolf, backed by numbers.  The resemblance ceased here, for even a cornered wolf will show his teeth, and Girty, driven to bay, would have cringed and cowered.  Even now at the mention of Wetzel’s enmity he trembled.

“I’ll shet yer wind,” he cried, catching up his tomahawk and making for Joe.

Silvertip intervened, and prevented the assault.  He led Girty back to his seat and spoke low, evidently trying to soothe the renegade’s feelings.

“Silvertip, give me a tomahawk, and let me fight him,” implored Joe.

“Paleface brave—­like Injun chief.  Paleface Shawnee’s prisoner—­no speak more,” answered Silvertip, with respect in his voice.

“Oh, where’s Nellie?”

A grief-stricken whisper caught Jim’s ear.  He turned to see Kate’s wide, questioning eyes fixed upon him.

“Nell was rescued.”

“Thank God!” murmured the girl.

“Come along,” shouted Girty, in his harsh voice, as, grasping Kate’s arm, he pulled the girl violently to her feet.  Then, picking up his rifle, he led her into the forest.  Silvertip followed with Joe, while the remaining Indian guarded Jim.

* * *

The great council-lodge of the Delawares rang with savage and fiery eloquence.  Wingenund paced slowly before the orators.  Wise as he was, he wanted advice before deciding what was to be done with the missionary.  The brothers had been taken to the chief, who immediately called a council.  The Indians sat in a half circle around the lodge.  The prisoners, with hands bound, guarded by two brawny braves, stood in one corner gazing with curiosity and apprehension at this formidable array.  Jim knew some of the braves, but the majority of those who spoke bitterly against the palefaces had never frequented the Village of Peace.  Nearly all were of the Wolf tribe of Delawares.  Jim whispered to Joe, interpreting that part of the speeches bearing upon the disposal to be made of them.  Two white men, dressed in Indian garb, held prominent positions before Wingenund.  The boys saw a resemblance between one of these men and Jim Girty, and accordingly concluded he was the famous renegade, or so-called white Indian, Simon Girty.  The other man was probably Elliott, the Tory, with whom Girty had deserted from Fort Pitt.  Jim Girty was not present.  Upon nearing the encampment he had taken his captive and disappeared in a ravine.

Shingiss, seldom in favor of drastic measures with prisoners, eloquently urged initiating the brothers into the tribe.  Several other chiefs were favorably inclined, though not so positive as Shingiss.  Kotoxen was for the death penalty; the implacable Pipe for nothing less than burning at the stake.  Not one was for returning the missionary to his Christian Indians.  Girty and Elliott, though requested to speak, maintained an ominous silence.