Then the full bitterness of his position swept over the renegade, and a deep rage stirred the hatred he held for this man who had outwitted him at every turn, and now was in a position to pronounce sentence upon him. And his words came low with concentrated fury. "Yes, blast you, you can sneer! But I tell you you're making a mistake. I can twist the Indians around my finger. Bah, I care nothing for them! I shall get clear and save myself, and, as sure as there's a hell for the damned, you shall pay!" But the man he addressed remained undisturbed. His manner was imperturbable. He nodded gravely. "Good," he said. "Now git--git quick!" And the man who posed as Nevil Steyne passed out of the hut and out of the fort, urged almost to precipitancy by the suggestion of Seth's final command. After his going silence reigned in the little corn shed. Parker had a hundred questions to ask, but none of them came readily to his lips in face of his companion's silence. In the end it was Seth who spoke first. "Wal," he said, with a sigh, "that's settled." His words were an expression of relief. "I don't understand. You've let him go. You've given him a chance to get away in safety after----" "Yes," responded the other grimly, "a dawg's chance." The answer silenced all further protest. "Yes," Seth went on reflectively, "I've done with him, I guess; we all have. Say, he's Rosebud's uncle." "Ah!" Parker was beginning to understand. But he was not yet satisfied, and his ejaculation was an invitation to the other. Seth went on as though in soliloquy. "Yes. He's gone, an' ther' ain't no tellin' where he'll finish. Ther's a hell some'eres. Mebbe he ken twist 'em, the Injuns, around his finger, mebbe he can't. I 'lows he goin' to face 'em. They'll deal out by him as they notion justice, I guess." "But he may escape them. He's slippery." Parker hated the thought of the man going scot-free. Seth shook his head. "No," he said. "He'll face 'em. I've seen to that, I guess. Jim Crow follers him wherever he goes. An' Jim Crow hain't no use for Stephen Raynor." "What do you think will happen?" Parker looked up into the taller man's face as they stood in the doorway of the hut. Seth turned. His shoulders shrugged expressively as he moved out and walked toward the farmhouse. CHAPTER XXXII WANAHA THE INDIAN The moon at its full shone down upon a scene of profound silence. Its silvery rays overpowered the milder starry sheen of the heavens. The woods upon the banks of the White River were tipped with a hard, cold burnish, but their black depths remained unyielding. All was still--so still. Thousands of Indians are awaiting in silent, stubborn hatred the morrow's sentence of their white shepherds. A deep passion of hatred and revenge lies heavy on their tempestuous hearts; and upon the heart of their warlike chieftain most of all.