“The big pain has entered his head,” answered Kenowatha, ruefully, putting both hands to his head. “He will return to the council soon; but first he must rest. May he lie upon the couch beside the young She-wolf?” “No!” thundered Loosa, who was just drunk enough to arouse the angry and suspicious part of her nature. “The White Fox would cut the She-wolf’s bonds, and then the White Ottawa would tear Loosa’s tongue from her head. Go back to the council!” The mad squaw’s quivering finger pointed to the half-open door; but instead of obeying the command, Kenowatha shot forward like a ball, and Loosa rolled upon the floor. Before she could recover, Kenowatha’s knife severed Nanette Froisart’s bonds, and with a cry of astonishment, at the unexpected action, the Girl Avenger bounded to her feet. Kenowatha had thrown himself upon Loosa, whom of himself he could not conquer, for the frantic woman, sobered by her situation, possessed the strength of a tigress. Seeing this, the girl sprung to his assistance; but before she could lend any aid, the stalwart woman hurled the White Fox from her, and sprung erect. It was a critical moment for the youthful twain. Kenowatha glanced at the young She-wolf as he rose to his feet. She stood against the door, armed with her scalping-knife, which she had snatched from the corner into which Joe Girty had tossed it. With a cry of rage--summoned perhaps by the thought of the doom adjudged her should the girl escape--the renegade’s squaw sprung upon Nanette. A dirk, similar to the formidable one Girty wore, glittered in her bony hand. The girl met the mad onset calmly; her left arm skillfully warded off the blow that the mad squaw aimed at her, and her right hand, preceded by a glitter of steel, shot forward. It was a deathful blow. The dirk fell from Loosa’s hands; she staggered back, and Kenowatha, who had bounded to Nanette’s aid, caught her and lowered to the ground his adopted mother, from whose hand he had received many a hard blow. “Come!” he said to Nanette, in the Indian tongue, when they had equipped themselves with their own arms, “the white Ottawa is liable to return at any moment. Shall we go to the river?” “Yes, to the low place,” replied the Girl Avenger, “and then I’ll guide you to my home.” Without another word they left the cabin, and in time crossed the river at the same ford over which Nanette had been borne as a doomed prisoner. Immediately emerging from the stream, they heard the turmoil before Girty’s cabin, and the loud voice of the renegade calling Kenowatha. When the noise died away, Nanette’s hand stole into Kenowatha’s. “Come and see the young She-wolf’s den,” she said, looking up into his face, and away they hurried through the forest, silent, and hand in hand. They must have traveled rapidly for three hours, when the glitter of waters greeted their eyes. The silvery liquid sped lazily, a hundred feet below them, toward the Maumee.