“I will be there,” cried the renegade, with a mighty effort, appearing calm. “These fingers itch to clutch the White Fox’s throat, my knife shall blush beneath his heart’s blood. You may have the She-wolf;--she’s killed enough Ottawas to entitle her to a thousand deaths; but I want the boy--recollect that.” “If the white Ottawa joins us he shall have the boy,” said Turkey-foot. “_We_ want the She-wolf’s heart.” Girty’s eagerness to step upon the trail of the youth whom he now hated with all his heart, made him impatient. “Why not to-night?” he said. “The white Indian can step before the young She-wolf’s bullet,” said the chief, sarcastically, as he stepped aside and waved his red hand toward the door. “But Turkey-foot waits until the oath has been taken.” The renegade remained in his tracks. As well might he discharge his pistol against his own temple, as to attempt to hunt down Kenowatha and his avenging companion alone. While Turkey-foot spoke, his mind flitted back upon the history of the past, covered by one short year. He could count twenty chiefs whose brows had worn the fatal crescent of the She-wolf. Before the council fires impetuous chiefs had sworn to hunt the Girl Avenger down; for that purpose had they left the village, and awhile later a hunter would find them in the forest, scalped and wearing the red crescent. Well might Joe Girty tremble, for Nanette’s rifle had once been aimed at him, and nothing but an accident--the stumbling over a hidden root--had saved his life. “In union there is strength.” Thus the renegade thought, and he felt that success would attend the league about to be formed. Turkey-foot laughed when he saw the renegade shrink from the task of hunting the young She-wolf alone. “Come!” said the Indian, stepping toward the door, “the braves are returning to the council-house. Do not forget Turkey-foot’s lodge--when sleep shuts the women’s eyes.” “I will not forget,” said the renegade, and the following moment, the twain were returning to the council-house. The braves were not surprised at the inaction that followed the escape of the Terror of the Maumee. By many she was believed to be in league with Watchemenetoc, the Evil Spirit, and the bravest shuddered when they thought of following her into the gloomy recesses of the forests. Presently, as though it had suffered no interruption, the council was resumed, and again the bitterest of Indian invectives were showered upon Wayne, who then watched the building of Fort Defiance. Joe Girty joined his brother renegades upon the mats within the circle, and with thoughts far from the tempest that was soon to devastate the lovely Maumee valley, he heard the outbursts of Indian eloquence, that frightened the birds from their frail homes, upon the wooded banks of the shimmering stream. He owned one desire now, and that was to drive a knife into the heart of the boy whom he had snatched from an Indian’s tomahawk, and created a red chief.