“We will not follow her just now,” said Turkey-foot. “She is far away. But we know where her den is--along the stream with high walls. We will track the young She-wolf there, and then--doing what no brave until this hour dared _think_ of--we’ll enter her den, and drink her blood. And we’ll meet the White Whirlwind with her yellow scalp-locks in our belt.” This determination met with shouts of approval, and a few minutes later the members of the League separated. No turmoil following the death-shot by Indians without Turkey-foot’s lodge, it passed unnoticed. Joe Girty hurried toward the lodge of the Twin Panthers. It was empty! “The spy is determined to pump Vulture-eyes dry,” he murmured, turning on his heel; “I’ll help them catch ’im.” A few moments later, he saw in the bright starlight, one Indian struggling with two others, before Vulture-eyes’ lodge. He bounded forward, with a glittering blade in his blood-stained hand. As he reached the struggling trio, he heard the dull thud of a knife against a bone, and one of the three staggered back with a half-smothered groan. Then the slayer hurled his other antagonist from him and darted away. But the renegade’s hand shot forward like a butcher’s sledge, and the victim staggered and fell to the earth. “’Tis lucky I war hyar,” said Girty, in his rough voice, as he threw himself upon the stricken one. “I guess I war not mistaken; but I’ll see.” With spittle he rubbed some paint from his prisoner’s face, and the stars showed him a white skin. “I war right!” he ejaculated, rising and uttering a peculiar whoop. “Wayne’ll hear what you pumped out o’ old Vulture-eyes, Mark Morgan. Never!” [3] A name bestowed by the savages upon Wayne. CHAPTER VIII. OFF FOR THE RESCUE. The shot fired at Mark Morgan by the Girl Avenger did not prove fatal, as the reader has just seen by witnessing the scout’s capture by Joe Girty in the Ottawa village. In his admirable disguise, the spy counterfeited the Indian to perfectness, and under the circumstances it is not at all surprising that the dreaded enemy of the whole red race should try to send him to “the valley of the shadow.” But a few moments before the boat and its occupant appeared in the almost fatal vicinity, Kenowatha and the young She-wolf emerged from the latter’s home among the rocks, and stood upon the limestone crags many feet above the stream. Kenowatha was the first to see the boat, and when Nanette’s eyes fell upon it--when they encountered the spy whom she believed to be one of her sworn enemies, a whirlwind of passion shook her frame, and she snatched the White Fox’s rifle from his hands--hers having been left in the cave. Before she sped the leaden bullet on its errand, Nanette recognized Effie St. Pierre and Major Runnion, both of whom she had seen beneath the very cottonwood where the reader has seen a startling drama enacted.