r as these Indians were concerned, this decision was
unalterable.

On the other hand, if he did not spread ruin over the Village of
Peace, the missionaries would soon get such a grasp on the tribes
that their hold would never be broken. He could not allow that, even
if he was forced to sacrifice the missionaries along with their
converts, for he saw in the growth of this religion his own
downfall. The border must be hostile to the whites, or it could no
longer be his home. To be sure, he had aided the British in the
Revolution, and could find a refuge among them; but this did not
suit him.

He became an outcast because of failure to win the military
promotion which he had so much coveted. He had failed among his own
people. He had won a great position in an alien race, and he loved
his power. To sway men--Indians, if not others--to his will; to
avenge himself for the fancied wrong done him; to be great, had been
his unrelenting purpose.

He knew he must sacrifice the Christians, or eventually lose his own
power. He had no false ideas about the converted Indians. He knew
they were innocent; that they were a thousand times better off than
the pagan Indians; that they had never harmed him, nor would they
ever do so; but if he allowed them to spread their religion there
was an end of Simon Girty.

His decision was characteristic of the man. He would sacrifice any
one, or all, to retain his supremacy. He knew the fulfillment of the
decree as laid down by Pipe and Half King would be known as his
work. His name, infamous now, would have an additional horror, and
ever be remembered by posterity in unspeakable loathing, in
unsoftening wrath. He knew this, and deep down in his heart awoke a
numbed chord of humanity that twinged with strange pain. What awful
work he must sanction to keep his vaunted power! More bitter than
all was the knowledge that to retain this hold over the indians he
must commit a deed which, so far as the whites were concerned, would
take away his great name, and brand him a coward.

He briefly reviewed his stirring life. Singularly fitted for a
leader, in a few years he had risen to the most powerful position on
the border. He wielded more influence than any chief. He had been
opposed to the invasion of the pioneers, and this alone, without his
sagacity or his generalship, would have given him control of many
tribes. But hatred for his own people, coupled with unerring
judgment, a remarkable ability