With a
terrible fascination he watched that quivering, dripping blade, now
poised high.
Wetzel's arm swung with the speed of a shooting star. He drove the
blade into Girty's groin, through flesh and bone, hard and fast into
the tree. He nailed the renegade to the beech, there to await his
lingering doom.
"Ah-h! Ah-h! Ah-h!" shrieked Girty, in cries of agony. He fumbled
and pulled at the haft of the knife, but could not loosen it. He
beat his breast, he tore his hair. His screams were echoed from the
hilltop as if in mockery.
The white dog stood near, his hair bristling, his teeth snapping.
The dark birds sat on the dead branches above the hilltop, as if
waiting for their feast.
Chapter XXVIII.
Zane turned and cut the young missionary's bonds. Jim ran to where
Nell was lying on the ground, and tenderly raised her head, calling
to her that they were saved. Zane bathed the girl's pale face.
Presently she sighed and opened her eyes.
Then Zane looked from the statuelike form of Wingenund to the
motionless figure of Wetzel. The chief stood erect with his eyes on
the distant hills. Wetzel remained with folded arms, his cold eyes
fixed upon the writhing, moaning renegade.
"Lew, look here," said Zane, unhesitatingly, and pointed toward the
chief.
Wetzel quivered as if sharply stung; the cold glitter in his eyes
changed to lurid fire.
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