and did not like the plan of venturing too much among those who have good reasons for fearing and hating me—­therefore I resolved on your capture.  I had already meditated an attack on some of the settlers in the vicinity, and I resolved that both should be accomplished at one time.  The result you know.  Younker and his wife became my prisoners.  This was done for two purposes.  First, to revenge me for the insults heaped upon Simon Girty.  Secondly, to spare their lives; for had it not been for my positive injunctions, they would have shared the fate of their neighbors.  My design, I say, was to spare their lives and send them back, whenever it could be done with safety, provided they showed any signs of contrition.  Did they?  No! they again upbraided me to my face.  I was again cursed.  My blood is hot—­my nature revengeful.  That moment sealed their doom.  I gave them up to Peshewa.  They are no longer my prisoners.  For their lives you must plead with him.  I can do nothing.  Have you more to ask?”

Girty, toward the last, spoke rapidly, in short sentences, as one to whom the conversation was disagreeable; and Ella listened breathlessly, with a pale cheek and trembling form; for she saw, alas! there was nothing favorable to be gained.  As he concluded, she suddenly started, clasped her hands together, and looked up into his stern countenance, with a wild, thrilling expression, saying, in a trembling voice: 

“You have said you love me!”

“I repeat it.”

“Then, for Heaven’s sake! as you are a human being, and hope for peace in this world and salvation in the next—­restore me—­restore us all to our homes—­and to my dying day will I bless and pray for you.”

“Umph!” returned the renegade, drily; “I had much rather hear your sweet voice, though in anger, than to merely think you may be praying for me at a distance.  But I see Wild-cat is getting impatient;” and as he concluded, he turned abruptly on his heel, and advanced to Peshewa—­who was now standing with his warriors and prisoners on the bank of the stream, some fifty paces distant, awaiting a consultation with him—­while Ella hid her face in her hands and wept convulsively.

“Welcome, Peshewa!” said Girty, as he approached the chief.  “You and your band are here safe, I perceive; and by ——! you have timed it well, too, for we have only headed you by half an hour.”

“Ugh!” grunted Wild-cat, with that look and gutteral sound peculiar to the Indian.  “Kitchokema has learned Peshewa is here!”

“Come! come!” answered the renegade, in a somewhat nettled manner; “no insinuations!  I saw Peshewa when he arrived.”

“But could not leave the Big Knife squaw to greet him,” added the Indian.

“Why, I am not particularly fond of being hurried in my affairs, you know.”

“But there may be that which will not leave Kitchokema slow to act, in safety,” rejoined Wild-cat, significantly.