They were not quiet a moment, but ran here and there, for no apparent reason, except, possibly, to keep in action with the raging fire in their hearts.

The cleanliness which characterized the normal Indian was absent in them; their scant buckskin dress was bedraggled and stained.

They were still drunk with rum and the lust for blood.
Murder gleamed from the glance of their eyes.
"Jake, come over here," said Girty to his renegade friend.

"Ain't she a prize ?" Girty and Deering stood before the poor, stricken girl, and gloated over her fair beauty.

She stood as when first transfixed by the horror from which she had been fleeing.