less, as
history tells.

Impatiently the allied tribes awaited the American army. The chiefs,
with few exceptions, were confident, for had they not beaten Harmar and
St. Clair?

The Girtys had not shirked the battle, but there was a restlessness
about Simon's movements that attracted attention. James, on the
contrary, was firm and boastful. Wherever he went he encouraged the
Indians to stand firm, promising them victory and its tempting spoils.
But there were keen eyes fixed upon him.

In the scarlet ranks were many who carried a long scar on their
breasts--the mark of the brotherhood to whom Parquatin's blood cried for
vengeance.

In two splendid columns, with trailed arms, Wayne's army advanced upon
the savages. A terrible fire greeted the onslaught, and the General soon
discovered that the enemy were in full force and endeavoring, with some
show of success, to turn his left flank. Then came the tug of war, and
for hours the carnival of battle raged among the fallen timbers and
around the base of the hill.

"At last! look Harvey!"

Wolf Cap pointed through an opening, and Harvey Catlett, the spy, saw
the sight to which his attention was called.

There, in a little space made by the death of a forest tree, stood a man
whose face was begrimed with powder. His half savage uniform was torn
and blackened by the battle, and he seemed debating whether to fly or
plunge again into the fight.

"It is he!" said the young spy, looking up into Wolf Cap's face. "It is
Jim Girty."

"The man who darkened all my life!" was the hissed reply. "For years I
have hunted him. Now he is mine!"

Quick to the speaker's shoulder leaped the deadly rifle, and his cheek
dropped upon the stock for aim.

Harvey Catlett watched the renegade, unconscious of his swiftly
approaching doom.

All at once James Girty bounded into the air, and with a death cry that
sounded above the roar of battle, fell on his face, and stretched his
brawny arms in the agony of death.

Wolf Cap lowered his rifle and wheeled upon the spy.

"Did you shoot?" he cried.

"No."

"Then who did? Some one has cheated me of my revenge!"

As he spoke, he glanced to the right and saw a young Indian reloading
his rifle.

"It is Parquatoc!" said Harvey Catlett.

With a maddened cry the tall hunter sprang forward; but the Seneca youth
eluded him, and disappeared in the twinkling of an eye.

"Come! The battle rolls towards the British fort!" the young spy said,