A look of triumph swept over the blood-stained face of the Wolf Demon as he looked upon the lifeless form of the Shawnee warrior.
From the cut in the head of the Wolf the blood was slowly trickling, but he did not seem to mind the hurt.
With a hoarse cry of joy he knelt by the side of the man whom he had strangled to death with his powerful arms.
He tore the hunting-shirt from the breast of the dead chieftain; then he drew the dead man’s knife from his girdle.
Three rapid dashes and the Red Arrow, graven in the flesh, was blazoned on the breast of the Shawnee warrior.
“Inhuman dog, more like the wolf in heart than I, thus do I mark you,” the Wolf Demon cried in a voice hoarse with passion. “Eleven red demons slew the Red Arrow, eleven Shawnee warriors have I slain. Not one of the murdering band has escaped my steel. She fell in the blazing cabin amid the great green wood, near where the Muskingum waters laugh and play. The assassins have fallen in the glade and in the woodland, by the banks of the Scioto and the Ohio, in the paths of the Shawnee village and by the lodge-fires of the Chillicothe. I have struck them down by night and by day. And on each breast, in memory of the Indian maid that I once loved so well, have I stamped the Red Arrow. Now, at last, the chief of the red band of slayers has felt the edge of the scalping-knife. My work is done—my mission ended, and now, death, take me for thine own.” The Wolf Demon rose to his feet and glared wildly around him. His eyes were starting from their sockets and gleamed like balls of fire.
“What is this I see?” he cried, suddenly; “a river of blood! It is the blood of the red warriors that have fallen by my hand, and she the loved and lost is in its center. She beckons me to her. I see her as plainly as I did an hour ago when she sprung from the earth in the woodland glade by the hollow oak, to save the young Indian warrior from my vengeance. I know that he was not one of the assassin band that took thy life, but in his veins ran the blood of the accursed Shawnees, and I had doomed him to the death. But I spared him. Did you not come from thy spirit home among the blest and lift up thy hand to stay my arm? Go on, I’ll follow thee! Death is near. It is welcome, for it brings me to thee, my love. I hear the song of angels in mine ears! I am coming.”
Slowly, with his eyes fixed vacantly on the air, the Wolf Demon came from the lodge, descended the bank, and hid by it from sight, left the Shawnee village.
Boone and Kenton from their ambush perceived him approach.
Boone touched Kenton on the arm as if to call his attention, but Kenton had already perceived the terrible figure.
“Shall we fire at him?” questioned Kenton, in a whisper, and the usually firm hand of the borderer trembled as he fumbled with the lock of his gun.
“No, no!” cried Boone, quickly, and in a cautious whisper; “the report would bring the hull of the Shawnee village down upon as, jist like stirring up a nest of hornets.”
“What shall we do, then?”
“We’ll follow and attack him in the forest,” answered Boone.
The Wolf Demon came slowly on, his eyes staring full upon the air before him. He passed by the ambush of the two woodmen and entered the thicket.
As he passed, the two noted the signs of a conflict so apparent upon him.
“Jist look at his face! it’s kivered all over with blood!” exclaimed Boone, in wonder.
“He’s fixed another Shawnee, I reckon,” said Kenton, seriously.
“Sim, it’s a terrible thing to attack this awful critter,” said Boone, with a grave look upon his honest face.
“But the death of poor Lark—”
“Must be avenged!” exclaimed the old hunter, compressing his lips together, firmly.
“That’s so, said Kenton, with a pale face and a throbbing heart, yet with undaunted courage.
“I didn’t see as he had any we’pons, but ef he’s the devil, he don’t need any. Come on, we’ll give him a tussle, anyway. Lord, I wish I could remember a prayer or two,” said Boone, seriously.
Then with cautious steps they followed on the trail of the Wolf Demon.
The singular being pursued the same path returning that he had taken when coming through the wood.
He moved so slow that the two in pursuit followed him without difficulty.
Every now and then he halted for a moment and then again went on.
His steps became irregular. The hunters, following close behind, noticed that he was reeling like a drunken man.
From side to side he swayed as he made his way through the forest.
He reached the little glade by the side of which stood the hollow oak.
“Let’s attack him in the glade!” cried Boone, as he and Kenton reached the edge of the opening and beheld the Wolf Demon standing motionless, as if irresolute, in the center of it.
“Come on, then.”
Clubbing their rifles—they did not dare to fire for fear of the report arousing the Indian village—the two scouts dashed into the opening.
Hearing the noise of their footsteps, the Wolf Demon turned, extended his arms as if to stay their............