This accession to the garrison, indicating as it did that further reinforcements might be looked for ere long, whilst it greatly heartened the defenders had the reverse effect upon the Indians. The chiefs were seriously alarmed, and apprehensive lest the expedition should be cut off from retreat. They were disposed to retire without delay to their own country. However, Girty diverted them from their purpose. He harangued them with the greatest earnestness, urging persistence. He reminded them that it was becoming ever more difficult for them to muster such a force as was present, whilst the whites were constantly growing stronger and more numerous. He warned them that if they forewent this opportunity to drive the Long Knives from the country, another would never present itself. His vindictive eloquence prevailed, and the chiefs agreed once more to place the warriors at his disposal. The next day Girty endeavored to cajole the garrison into surrender. He had been wounded by a ball in the thigh, and now he crawled to a stump near the stockade under protection of a white flag. Captain Robert Patterson, who had led the reinforcement from Lexington, being the senior officer present, was in command. He went to the gate with others to hear what the renegade had to say. Girty commenced by expressing his admiration for the splendid defence offered by the garrison. He assured them, however, that further resistance would be worse than useless. He promised, “upon his honor,” to secure the life and safety of every soul in the stockade in case they should capitulate at once. Otherwise, he would abandon them to the fury of the savages. He declared that a large reinforcement of Indians and a detachment of artillery was within a day’s march of his camp, and should it arrive to find the settlers in arms, nothing that he could do would save them from massacre and torture. Girty demanded an immediate answer to his proposal. Captain Patterson turned on his heel and walked back into the fort without deigning to reply. But a young fellow named Reynolds had something to say to the renegade which sufficiently indicated the temper of the garrison. “Say, do you see this cur?” cried Reynolds, holding up a wriggling, yelping nondescript by the slack of its neck. “He ain’t fair bird, beast, nor fish. He’s just the meanest, ugliest mongrel that ever walked on four legs. See him, do you? Well, he’s called Simon Girty. We couldn’t think of a better name for him.” A loud laugh followed Reynolds’ sally and, with derisive gestures towards the discomfited Girty, the settlers moved into the stockade. The renegade crawled away towards the camp of his followers, uttering the most horrible imprecations and threats against the defenders of Bryan’s Station. He was soon to be glutted with revenge.