"But you are not lost to every attribute of manhood, James Girty," said the captive in a pleading tone that might have softened a heart of flint. "There are hearts that bleed for me to-night. Do not deal with me as they say you have dealt with others; but restore me to my dear ones, and win the lasting gratitude of all who love me." Following hard upon Kate Merriweather's last word came a laugh which seemed the incarnation of fiendishness. The renegade's eyes seemed filled with the heartless merriment. "Restore you to the boat? Let you go, after I have gone to the pains of getting John Darknight to guide you into my hands? Why, girl, you have not studied the character of Jim Girty." Kate's hope fled away, and she looked without a word upon the forest beauty at her side. "My father, let the white girl go," Little Moccasin said, venturing to meet the outlaw's flashing eyes. "See! I have killed the traitor. He will never betray my father again." "You served him right; but you were going to take this girl back to the river when I came up," was the reply. "She is mine, and the hand that is raised to tear her from me will fall in death. Come, my bird." He drew the settler's daughter toward him, and as his eyes flashed their fire upon her cheek, Kate uttered a shriek and hung senseless in his grasp. "Now go!" he cried to the mystery, as he pointed over her shoulder into the gloom of the forest. "Do not lift your rifle against me, for then you would never know who you are. Go! and follow me not. Don't cross my path too often!" She saw the outstretched hand that pointed her into forced exile; she noted the murderous eyes that darted from her into the depths of the tarn, and with a final pitying glance upon the unconscious girl, hanging over Girty's strong arm, she obeyed. For the second time that night he had sent her from his presence. "No man ever baffled Jim Girty!" he said, looking down into the white face which looked like death's own in the starlight. "For this moment I have plotted. Now I can desert the tribes to their own war, for she takes away all my warlike ambition. They may not see me in the next great battle. The hand of man shall not take her from me." Then for a moment he studied his captive's face in silence, admiring its contour and matchless loveliness. At length he started forward and stood over John Darknight. "Quite dead!" he said with evident satisfaction. "That young girl saved me a bit of lead and powder." Yes, the treacherous guide was dead. From that night there would be fewer bloody boats on the Maumee, and not a soul in the Northwest Territory was to regret Little Moccasin's aim. Leaving John Darknight where he had fallen, a prey to the vultures and the wolf, Girty turned away, and, with his still unconscious captive, hastened toward his cabin.