When Tecumseh returned to his lodge, after the destructive, mysterious shots, Girty effected a reconciliation with him, and was released. The renegade at once entered into the plans of the chief for the recapture of the whites, and led a band of braves to the banks of the Scioto to cut off their escape in that direction. For he knew that the hermit would never inhabit a cave without more than one avenue of escape, and his belief was verified, as the reader has witnessed. Before departing on his mission, he had exacted from Tecumseh an oath to the effect that Eudora, if recaptured, should not be delivered over to the Wolf-Queen; but, on the contrary, should remain his prisoner, as before. On the confines of the Indian “town” great numbers of women and children greeted the triumphant band, but Tecumseh would not permit a single birch to be applied to the persons of his prisoners. Straight to the council-house marched the august chief and an imperative wave of the hand summoned the warriors to their accustomed positions. Alaska followed, but paused without the line of braves, and fixed her eyes upon Tecumseh. “The white-faces and the red traitor shall be tried at once,” said the chief, striding to the center of the structure. “The Pale Flower is White Chief’s prisoner. Now let Tecumseh’s chiefs speak.” For a moment silence reigned, and then the renegade strode from his position. His baleful eyes flashed hatred upon the prisoners, who stood bound, near the center post of the council-house, and his words sounded like icy drops falling upon red-hot iron. “The White Chief speaks for death,” he cried, “for death at the stake! The pale-faces and the red-skinned traitor have slain two of Tecumseh’s bravest chiefs. Shall they long escape the doom they merit? I will claim my prisoner,” and he strode toward Eudora. “Ha! girl!” he hissed, in her ear, as his great hand closed on her delicate arm, “you never dreamed that I am in league with powers not of earth. All the powers of heaven and hell can not baffle Jim Girty. You are mine--mine--mine! That word is sweeter to me than wildwood honey.” “One word with her before we part,” said Mayne Fairfax, smothering his rage, and stepping towards Eudora. “If God permits devils to triumph, then we never meet again. Eudora--” The captive turned, but ere Fairfax could execute another step nearer her, Girty’s arm shot from his shoulder, and the young hunter went to the earth like a stricken statue. “There! weakling!” cried the brute, darting a fierce look upon his fallen foe. “I’ll teach you how to interfere in other people’s business. Lay still there, or I’ll kick you to pieces.” And again grasping Eudora’s arm, he hurried her toward the further end of the council-house.