CHAPTER XXV.
Brutal alike in deed and word, With callous heart and hand of strife. How like a fiend may man be made, Plying the foul and monstrous trade Whose harvest-field is human life. --WHITTIER.
A veil like that of oblivion dropped before the form of the missionary.The pious persons who had sent him forth to preach to the heathen,never knew his fate; a disappearance that was so common to that class ofdevoted men, as to produce regret rather than surprise. Even those whotook his life felt a respect for him; and, strange as it may seem, itwas to the eloquence of the man who now would have died to save him,that his death was alone to be attributed. Peter had awakened fires thathe could not quench, and aroused a spirit that he could not quell. Inthis respect, he resembled most of those who, under the guise of reform,or revolution, in moments of doubt, set in motion a machine that isfound impossible to control, when it is deemed expedient tocheck exaggeration by reason. Such is often the case with evenwell-intentioned leaders, who constantly are made to feel how mucheasier it is to light a conflagration, than to stay its flames whenraging.
Corporal Flint was left seated on the log, while the bloody scene of themissionary's death was occurring. He was fully alive to all the horrorsof his own situation, and comprehended the nature of his companion'smovements. The savages usually manifested so much respect formissionaries, that he was in no degree surprised. Parson Amen had beentaken apart for his execution, and when those who had caused his removalreturned, the corporal looked anxiously for the usual but revoltingtoken of his late companion's death. As has been said, however, themissionary was suffered to lie in his wild grave, without suffering amutilation of his remains.
Notwithstanding this moderation, the Indians were getting to be incitedby this taste of blood. The principal chiefs became sterner in theiraspects, and the young men began to manifest some such impatience asthat which the still untried pup betrays, when he first scents hisgame. All these were ominous symptoms, and were well understood by thecaptive.
Perhaps it would not have been possible, in the whole range of humanfeelings, to find two men under influences more widely opposed to eachother than were the missionary and the corporal, in this, their lastscene on earth. The manner of Parson Amen's death has been described. Hedied in humble imitation of his Divine Master, asking for blessings onthose who were about to destroy him, with a heart softened by Christiangraces, and a meekness that had its origin in the consciousness of hisown demerits. On the other hand, the corporal thought only of vengeance.Escape he knew to be impossible, and he would fain take his departurelike a soldier, or as he conceived a soldier should die, in the midst offallen foes.
Corporal Flint had a salutary love of life, and would very gladlyescape, did the means offer; but, failing of these, all his thoughtsturned toward revenge. Some small impulses of ambition, or what it isusual to dignify with that term, showed themselves even at that seriousmoment. He had heard around the camp-fires, and in the garrisons, somany tales of heroism and of fortitude manifested by soldiers who hadfallen into the hands of the Indians, that a faint desire to enroll hisown name on the list of these worthies was beginning to arise in hisbreast. But truth compels us to add that the predominant feeling wasthe wish to revenge his own fate, by immolating as many of his foesas possible. To this last purpose, therefore, his thoughts were mainlydirected, during that interval which his late companion had employed inprayers for those under whose blows he was about to fall. Such is thedifference in man, with his heart touched, or untouched, by the power ofthe Holy Spirit.
It was, however, much easier for the corporal to entertain designs ofthe nature mentioned than to carry them out: unarmed, surrounded bywatchful enemies, and totally without support of any sort, the chancesof effecting his purpose were small indeed. Once, for a minute only,the veteran seriously turned his thoughts to escape. It occurred to him,that he might possibly reach the castle, could he get a little start;and should the Indians compel him to run the gauntlet, as was oftentheir practice, he determined to make an effort for life in that mode.Agreeably to the code of frontier warfare, a successful flight of thisnature was scarcely less creditable than a victory in the field.
Half an hour passed after the execution of the missionary before thechiefs commenced their proceedings with the corporal. The delay wasowing to a consultation, in which The Weasel had proposed despatchinga party to the castle, to bring in the family, and thus make a commondestruction of the remaining pale-faces known to be in that part of theOpenings. Peter did not dare to oppose this scheme, himself; but he somanaged as to get Crowsfeather to do it, without bringing himself intothe foreground. The influence of the Pottawattamie prevailed, and itwas decided to torture this one captive, and to secure his scalp, beforethey proceeded to work their will on the others. Ungque, who had gainedground rapidly by his late success, was once more commissioned to stateto the captive the intentions of his captors.
"Brother," commenced The Weasel, placing himself directly in front ofthe corporal, "I am about to speak to you. A wise warrior opens hisears, when he hears the voice of his enemy. He may learn something itwill be good for him to know. It will be good for you to know what I amabout to say.
"Brother, you are a pale-face, and we are Injins. You wish to get ourhunting-grounds, and we wish to keep them. To keep them, it has becomenecessary to take your scalp. I hope you are ready to let us have it."
The corporal had but an indifferent knowledge of the Indian language,but he comprehended all that was uttered on this occasion. Interestquickened his faculties, and no part of what was said was lost. Thegentle, slow, deliberate manner in which The Weasel delivered himself,contributed to his means of understanding. He was fortunately preparedfor what her heard, and the announcement of his approaching fate did notdisturb him to the degree of betraying weakness. This last was atriumph in which the Indians delighted, though they ever showed themost profound respect for such of their victims as manifested a manlyfortitude. It was necessary to reply, which the corporal did in English,knowing that several present could interpret his words. With a view torender this the more easy, he spoke in fragments of sentences, and withgreat deliberation.
"Injins," returned the corporal, "you surrounded me, and I have beentaken prisoner--had there been a platoon on us, you mightn't have madeout quite so well. It's no great victory for three hundred warriors toovercome a single man. I count Parson Amen as worse than nothing, forhe looked to neither rear nor flank. If I could have half an hour's workupon you, with only half of our late company, I think we should loweryour conceit. But that is impossible, and so you may do just what youplease with me. I ask no favors."
Although this answer was very imperfectly translated, it awakened a gooddeal of admiration. A man who could look death so closely in the face,with so much steadiness, became a sort of hero in Indian eyes; andwith the North American savage, fortitude is a virtue not inferior tocourage. Murmurs of approbation were heard, and Ungque was privatelyrequested to urge the captive further, in order to see how far presentappearances were likely to be maintained.
"Brother, I have said that we are Injins," resumed The Weasel, with anair so humble, and a voice so meek, that a stranger might have supposedhe was consoling, instead of endeavoring to intimidate, the prisoner."It is true. We are nothing but poor, ignorant Injins. We can onlytorment our prisoners after Injin fashion. If we were pale-faces, wemight do better. We did not torment the medicine-priest. We were afraidhe would laugh at our mistakes. He knew a great deal. We know butlittle. We do as well as we know how.
"Brother, when Injins do as well as they know how, a warrior shouldforget their mistakes. We wish to torment you, in a way to prove thatyou are all over man. We wish so to torment you that you will stand upunder the pain in such a way that it will make our young men think yourmother was not a squaw--that there is no woman in you. We do this forour own honor, as well as for yours. It will be an honor to us to havesuch a captive; it will be an h
onor to you to be such a captive. Weshall do as well as we know how.
"Brother, it is most time to begin. The tormenting will last a longtime. We must not let the medicine-priest get too great a start on thepath to the happy hunting-grounds of your--"
Here, a most unexpected interruption occurred, that effectually put astop to the eloquence of Ungque. In his desire to make an impression,the savage approached within reach of the captive's arm, while hisown mind was intent on the words that he hoped would make the prisonerquail. The corporal kept his eye on that of the speaker, charming him,as it were, into a riveted gaze, in return. Watching his opportunity, hecaught the tomahawk from The Weasel's belt, and by a single blow, felledhim dead at his feet. Not content with this, the old soldier now boundedforward, striking right and left, inflicting six or eight wounds onothers, before he could be again arrested, disarmed, and bound. Whilethe last was doing, Peter withdrew, unobserved.
Many were the "hughs" and other exclamations of admiration thatsucceeded this display of desperate manhood! The body of The Weasel wasremoved, and interred, while the wounded withdrew to attend to theirhurts; leaving the arena to the rest assembled there. As for thecorporal, he was pretty well blown, and, in addition to being now boundhand and foot, his recent exertions, which were terrific while theylasted, effectually incapacitated him from making any move, so long ashe was thus exhausted and confined.
A council was now held by the principal chiefs. Ungque had few friends.In this, he shared the fate of most demagogues, who are commonlydespised even by those they lead and deceive. No one regretted himmuch, and some were actually glad of his fate. But the dignity of theconquerors must be vindicated. It would never do to allow a pale-faceto obtain so great an advantage, and not take a signal vengeance forhis deeds. After a long consultation, it was determined to subject thecaptive to the trial by saplings, and thus see if he could bear thetorture without complaining.
As some of our readers may not understand what this fell mode oftormenting is, it may be necessary to explain.
There is scarcely a method of inflicting pain, that comes within, thecompass of their means, that the North American Indians have not essayedon their enemies. When the infernal ingenuity that is exercised on theseoccasions fails of its effect, the captives themselves have been heardto suggest other means of torturing that THEY have known practisedsuccessfully by their own people. There is often a strange strifebetween the tormentors and the tormented; the one to manifest skill ininflicting pain, and the other to manifest fortitude in enduring it.As has just been said, quite as much renown is often acquired by thewarrior, in setting all the devices of his conquerors at defiance, whilesubject to their hellish attempts, as in deeds of arms. It might be moretrue to say that such WAS the practice among the Indians, than to say,at the present time, that such IS; for it is certain that civilizationin its approaches, while it has in many particulars even degraded thered man, has had a silent effect in changing and mitigating many of hisfiercer customs--this, perhaps, among the rest. It is probable that themore distant tribes still resort to all these ancient usages; but it isboth hoped and believed that those nearer to the whites do not.
The "torture by saplings" is one of those modes of inflicting pain thatwould naturally suggest themselves to savages. Young trees that do notstand far apart are trimmed of their branches, and brought nearer toeach other by bending their bodies; the victim is then attached to bothtrunks, sometimes by his extended arms, at others by his legs, or bywhatever part of the frame cruelty can suggest, when the saplings arereleased, and permitted to resume their upright positions. Of course,the sufferer is lifted from the earth, and hangs suspended by his limbs,with a strain on them that soon produces the most intense anguish. Thecelebrated punishment of the "knout" partakes a good deal of this samecharacter of suffering. Bough of the Oak now approached the corporal, tolet him know how high an honor was in reserve for him.
"Brother," said this ambitious orator, "you are a brave warrior. Youhave done well. Not only have you killed one of our chiefs, but you havewounded several of our young men. No one but a brave could have donethis. You have forced us to bind you, lest you might kill some more.It is not often that captives do this. Your courage has caused us toconsult HOW we might best torture you, in a way most to manifest yourmanhood. After talking together, the chiefs have decided that a man ofyour firmness ought to be hung between two young trees. We have foundthe trees, and have cut off their branches. You can see them. If theywere a little larger their force would be greater, and they would giveyou more pain--would be more worthy of you; but these are the largestsaplings we could find. Had there been any larger, we would have letyou have them. We wish to do you honor, for you are a bold warrior, andworthy to be well tormented.
"Brother, look at these saplings! They are tall and straight. When theyare bent by many hands, they will come together. Take away the hands,and they will become straight again. Your arms must then keep themtogether. We wish we had some pappooses here, that they might shootarrows into your flesh. That would help much to torment you. You cannothave this honor, for we have no pappooses. We are afraid to let ouryoung men shoot arrows into your flesh. They are strong, and might killyou. We wish you to die between the saplings, as is your right, being sogreat a brave.
"Brother, we think much better of you since you killed The Weasel, andhurt our young men. If all your warriors at Chicago had been as boldas you, Black-Bird would not have taken that fort. You would have savedmany scalps. This encourages us. It makes us think the Great Spiritmeans to help us, and that we shall kill all the pale-faces. When we getfurther into your settlements, we do not expect to meet many such bravesas you. They tell us we shall then find men who will run, and screechlike women. It will not be a pleasure to torment such men. We hadrather torment a bold warrior, like you, who makes us admire him for hismanliness. We love our squaws, but not in the warpath. They are bestin the lodges; here we want nothing but men. You are a man--a brave--wehonor you. We think, notwithstanding, we shall yet make you weak. Itwill not be easy, yet we hope to do it. We shall try. We may not thinkquite so well of you, if we do it; but we shall always call you a brave.A man is not a stone. We can all feel, and when we have done all that isin our power, no one can do more. It is so with Injins; we think it mustbe so with pale-faces. We mean to try and see how it is."
The corporal understood very little of this harangue, though heperfectly comprehended the preparations of the saplings, and Bough ofthe Oak's allusions to THEM. He was in a cold sweat at the thought, forresolute as he was, he foresaw sufferings that human fortitude couldhardly endure. In this state of the case, and in the frame of mind hewas in, he had recourse to an expedient of which he had often heard,and which he thought might now be practised to some advantage. It was toopen upon the savages with abuse, and to exasperate them, by taunts andsarcasm, to such a degree as might induce some of the weaker membersof the tribe to dispatch him on the spot. As the corporal, with theperspective of the saplings before his eyes, manifested a good deal ofingenuity on this occasion, we shall record some of his efforts.
"D'ye call yourselves chiefs and warriors?" he began, upon a pretty highkey. "I call ye squaws! There is not a man among ye. Dogs would be thebest name. You are poor Injins. A long time ago, the pale-faces camehere in two or three little canoes. They were but a handful, and youwere plentier than prairie wolves. Your bark could be heard throughoutthe land. Well, what did this handful of pale-faces? It drove yourfathers before them, until they got all the best of the hunting-grounds.Not an Injin of you all, now, ever get down on the shores of the greatsalt lake, unless to sell brooms and baskets, and then he goes sneakinglike a wolf after a sheep. You have forgotten how clams and oysterstaste. Your fathers had as many of them as they could eat; but not oneof YOU ever tasted them. The pale-faces eat them all. If an Injin askedfor one, they would throw the shell at his head, and call him a dog.
"Do you think that my chiefs would hang one of you between two suchmiserable saplings as t
hese? No! They would scorn to practice suchpitiful torture. They would bring the tops of two tall pines together,trees a hundred and fifty feet high, and put their prisoner on thetopmost boughs, for the crows and ravens to pick his eyes out. But youare miserable Injins! You know nothing. If you know'd any better, wouldyou act such poor torment ag'in' a great brave? I spit upon ye, and callyou squaws. The pale-faces have made women of ye. They have taken outyour hearts, and put pieces of dog's flesh in their places."
Here the corporal, who delivered himself with an animation suited to hislanguage, was obliged to pause, literally for want of breath. Singularas it may seem, this tirade excited great admiration among the savages.It is true, that very few understood what was said; perhaps no oneunderstood ALL, but the manner was thought to be admirable. When some ofthe language was interpreted, a deep but smothered resentment was felt;more especially at the taunts touching the manner in which the whiteshad overcome the red men. Truth is hard to be borne, and the individual,or people, who will treat a thousand injurious lies with contempt, feelall their ire aroused at one reproach that has its foundation in fact.Nevertheless, the anger that the corporal's words did, in truth, awaken,was successfully repressed, and he had the disappointment of seeing thathis life was spared for the torture.
"Brother," said Bough of the Oak, again placing himself before thecaptive, "you have a stout heart. It is made of stone, and not of flesh.If our hearts be of dog's meat, yours is of stone. What you say is true.The pale-faces DID come at first in two or three canoes, and there werebut few of them. We are ashamed, for it is true, A few pale-faces drovetoward the setting sun many Injins. But we cannot be driven any further.We mean to stop here, and begin to take all the scalps we can. A greatchief, who belongs to no one tribe, but belongs to all tribes, whospeaks all tongues, has been sent by the Great Spirit to arouse us. Hehas done it. You know him. He came from the head of the lake with you,and kept his eye on your scalp. He has meant to take it from the first.He waited only for an opportunity. That opportunity has come, and we nowmean to do as he has told us we ought to do. This is right. Squaws arein a hurry; warriors know how to wait. We would kill you at once, andhang your scalp on our pole, but it would not be right We wish to dowhat is right. If we ARE poor Injins, and know but little, we know whatis right. It is right to torment so great a brave, and we mean to doit. It is only just to you to do so. An old warrior who has seen so manyenemies, and who has so big a heart, ought not to be knocked in thehead like a pappoose or a squaw. It is his right to be tormented. We aregetting ready, and shall soon begin. If my brother can tell us a new wayof tormenting, we are willing to try it. Should we not make out as wellas pale-faces, my brother will remember who we are. We mean to do ourbest, and we hope to make his heart soft. If we do this, great will beour honor. Should we not do it, we cannot help it. We shall try."
It was now the corporal's turn to put in a rebutter.
This he did without any failure in will or performance. By this time hewas so well warmed as to think or care very little about the saplings,and to overlook the pain they might occasion.
"Dogs can do little but bark; 'specially Injin dogs," he said. "Injinsthemselves are little better than their own dogs. They can bark, butthey don't know how to bite. You have many great chiefs here. Someare panthers, and some bears, and some buffaloes; but where are yourweasels? I have fit you now these twenty years, and never have I knownye to stand up to the baggonet. It's not Injin natur' to do THAT."
Here the corporal, without knowing it, made some such reproach to theaboriginal warriors of America as the English used to throw into theteeth of ourselves--that of not standing up to a weapon which neitherparty possessed. It was matter of great triumph that the Americans wouldnot stand the charge of the bayonet at the renowned fight on Breed's,for instance, when it is well known that not one man in five among thecolonists had any such weapon at all to "stand up" with. A differentstory was told at Guildford, and Stony Point, and Eutaw, and Bennington,and Bemis' Heights, and fifty other places that might be named, afterthe troops were furnished with bayonets. THEN it was found that theAmericans could use them as well as others, and so might it have provedwith the red men, though their discipline, or mode of fighting, scarceadmitted of such systematic charges. All this, however, the corporaloverlooked, much as if he were a regular historian who was writing tomake out a case.
"Harkee, brother, since you WILL call me brother; though, Heaven bepraised, not a drop of nigger or Injin blood runs in my veins," resumedthe corporal. "Harkee, friend redskin, answer me one thing. Did you everhear of such a man as Mad Anthony? He was the tickler for your infernaltribes! You pulled no saplings together for him. He put you up with 'thelong-knives and leather-stockings,' and you outrun his fleetest horses.I was with him, and saw more naked backs than naked faces among yourpeople, that day. Your Great Bear got a rap on his nose that sent him tohis village yelping like a cur."
Again was the corporal compelled to stop to take breath. The allusion toWayne, and his defeat of the Indians, excited so much ire, that severalhands grasped knives and tomahawks, and one arrow was actually drawnnearly to the head; but the frown of Bear's Meat prevented any outbreak,or actual violence. It wa's deemed prudent, however, to put an end tothis scene, lest the straightforward corporal, who laid it on heavily,and who had so much to say about Indian defeats, might actually succeedin touching some festering wound that would bring him to his death atonce. It was, accordingly, determined to proceed with the torture of thesaplings without further delay.
The corporal was removed accordingly, and placed between the two bendedtrees, which were kept together by withes around their tops. An arm ofthe captive was bound tightly at the wrist to the top of each tree, sothat his limbs were to act as the only tie between the saplings, as soonas the withes should be cut. The Indians now worked in silence, and thematter was getting to be much too serious for the corporal to indulge inany more words. The cold sweat returned, and many an anxious glancewas cast by the veteran on the fell preparations. Still he maintainedappearances, and when all was ready, not a man there was aware of theagony of dread which prevailed in the breast of the victim. It was notdeath that he feared as much as suffering. A few minutes, the corporalwell knew, would make the pain intolerable, while he saw no hope ofputting a speedy end to his existence. A man might live hours in such asituation. Then it was that the teachings of childhood were revived inthe bosom of this hardened man, and he remembered the Being that diedfor HIM, in common with the rest of the human race, on the tree. Theseeming similarity of his own execution struck his imagination, andbrought a tardy but faint recollection of those lessons that had lostmost of their efficacy in the wickedness and impiety of camps. His soulstruggled for relief in that direction, but the present scene was tooabsorbing to admit of its lifting itself so far above his humanity.
"Warrior of the pale-faces," said Bough of the Oak, "we are going to cutthe withe. You will then be where a brave man will want all his courage.If you are firm, we will do you honor; if you faint and screech, ouryoung men will laugh at you. This is the way with Injins. They honorbraves; they point the finger at cowards."
Here a sign was made by Bear's Meat, and a warrior raised the tomahawkthat was to separate the fastenings, His hand was in the very act ofdescending, when the crack of a rifle was heard, and a little smoke roseout of the thicket, near the spot where the bee-hunter and the corporal,himself, had remained so long hid, on the occasion of the council firstheld in that place. The tomahawk fell, however, the withes were parted,and up flew the saplings, with a violence that threatened to tear thearms of the victim out of their sockets.
The Indians listened, expecting the screeches and groans;--theygazed, hoping to witness the writhings of their captive. But they weredisappointed. There hung the body, its arms distended, still holdingthe tops of the saplings bowed, but not a sign of life was seen. A smallline of blood trickled down the forehead, and above it was the nearlyimperceptible hole made by the passage of a bullet. The he
ad itself hadfallen forward, and a little on one shoulder. The corporal had escapedthe torments reserved for him, by this friendly blow.
It was so much a matter of course for an Indian to revenge his ownwounds--to alleviate his smarts, by retaliating on those who inflictedthem--that the chiefs expressed neither surprise nor resentment at themanner of the corporal's death. There was some disappointment, it istrue; but no anger was manifested, since it was supposed that some oneof those whom the prisoner had wounded had seen fit, in this mode,to revenge his own hurts. In this, however, the Indians deceivedthemselves. The well-intentioned and deadly shot that saved the corporalfrom hours of agony came from the friendly hand of Pigeonswing, who hadno sooner discharged his rifle than he stole away through the thicket,and was never discovered. This he did, too, at the expense of Ungque'sscalp, on which he had set his heart.
As for the Indians, perceiving that their hopes of forcing a captiveto confess his weakness were frustrated, they conferred together on thecourse of future proceedings. There was an inquiry for Peter, but Peterwas not to be found. Bough of the Oak suggested that the mysteriouschief must have gone to the palisaded hut, in order to get the remainingscalps, his passion for this symbol of triumphs over pale-faces beingwell known. It was, therefore, incumbent on the whole band to follow,with the double view of sharing in the honor of the assault, and ofrendering assistance.
Abandoning the body of the corporal where it hung, away went thesesavages, by this time keenly alive to the scent of blood. Something likeorder was observed, however, each chief leading his own particular partof the band, in his own way, but on a designated route. Bear's Meatacted as commander-in-chief, the subordinate leaders following hisinstructions with reasonable obedience. Some went in one direction,others in another; until the verdant bottom near the sweet spring wasdeserted.
In less than half an hour the whole band was collected around CastleMeal, distant, however, beyond the range of a rifle. The differentparties, as they arrived, announced their presence by whoops, which wereintended to answer the double purpose of signals, and of striking terrorto the hearts of the besieged; the North American Indians making ampleuse of this great auxiliary in war.
All this time no one was seen in or about the fortified hut The gatewas closed, as were the doors and windows, manifesting preparations fordefence; but the garrison kept close. Nor was Peter to be seen. He mightbe a prisoner, or he might not have come in this direction. It was justpossible that he might be stealing up to the building, to get a nearerview, and a closer scout.
Indian warfare is always stealthy. It is seldom, indeed, that theaboriginal Americans venture on an open assault of any fortified place,however small and feeble it may be. Ignorant of the use of artillery,and totally without that all-important arm, their approaches to anycover, whence a bullet may be sent against them, are ever wary, slow,and well concerted. They have no idea of trenches--do not possess themeans of making them, indeed--but they have such substitutes of theirown as usually meet all their wants, more particularly in portions ofthe country that are wooded. In cases like this before our present band,they had to exercise their wits to invent new modes of effecting theirpurposes.
Bear's Meat collected his principal chiefs, and, after a considerableamount of consultation, it was determined, in the present instance, totry the virtue of fire. The only sign of life they could detect aboutthe hut was an occasional bark from Hive, who had been taken within thebuilding, most probably to protect him from the bullets and arrows ofthe enemy. Even this animal did not howl like a dog in distress; but hebarked, as if aware of the vicinity of strangers. The keenest scrutinycould not detect an outlet of any sort about the hut. Everything wastightly closed, and it was impossible to say when, or whence, a bulletmight not be sent against the unwary.
The plan was soon formed, and was quite as rapidly executed. Bough ofthe Oak, himself, supported by two or three other braves, undertook toset the buildings on fire. This was done by approaching the kitchen,dodging from tree to tree, making each movement with a rapidity thatdefeated aim, and an irregularity that defied calculation. In this waythe kitchen was safely reached, where there was a log cover to concealthe party. Here also was fire, the food for dinner being left, just asit had been put over to boil, not long before. The Indians had preparedthemselves with arrows and light wood, and soon they commenced sendingtheir flaming missiles toward the roof of the hut. Arrow after arrowstruck, and it was not long before the roof was on fire.
A yell now arose throughout the Openings. Far and near the Indiansexulted at their success. The wood was dry, and it was of a veryinflammable nature. The wind blew, and in half an hour Castle Mealwas in a bright blaze. Hive now began to howl, a sign that he knew hisperil. Still, no human being appeared. Presently the flaming roof fellin and the savages listened intently to hear the screeches of theirvictims. The howls of the dog increased, and he was soon seen, with hishair burned from his skin, leaping on the unroofed wall, and thence intothe area within the palisades. A bullet terminated his sufferings as healighted.
Bear's Meat now gave the signal, and a general rush was made. No rifleopposed them, and a hundred Indians were soon at the palisades. To thesurprise of all, the gate was found unfastened. Rushing within, thedoor of the hut was forced, and a view obtained of the blazing furnacewithin. The party had arrived in sufficient season to perceive fragmentsof le Bourdon's rude furniture and stores yet blazing, but nowhere wasa human corpse visible. Poles were got, and the brands were removed, inthe expectation of finding bones beneath them; but without success. Itwas now certain that no pale-face had perished in that hut. Then thetruth flashed on the minds of all the savages: le Bourdon and hisfriends had taken the alarm in time, and had escaped!
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