Chapter XXV.

by James Fenimore Cooper

　　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 themissionary. The pious persons who had sent him forth to preach tothe heathen, never knew his fate; a disappearance that was so commonto that class of devoted men, as to produce regret rather thansurprise. Even those who took his life felt a respect for him; and,strange as it may seem, it was to the eloquence of the man who nowwould have died to save him, that his death was alone to beattributed. Peter had awakened fires that he could not quench, andaroused a spirit that he could not quell. In this respect, heresembled most of those who, under the guise of reform, orrevolution, in moments of doubt, set in motion a machine that isfound impossible to control, when it is deemed expedient to checkexaggeration by reason. Such is often the case with even well-intentioned leaders, who constantly are made to feel how much easierit is to light a conflagration, than to stay its flames when raging.

　　Corporal Flint was left seated on the log, while the bloody scene ofthe missionary's death was occurring. He was fully alive to all thehorrors of his own situation, and comprehended the nature of hiscompanion's movements. The savages usually manifested so muchrespect for missionaries, that he was in no degree surprised. ParsonAmen had been taken apart for his execution, and when those who hadcaused his removal returned, the corporal looked anxiously for theusual but revolting token of his late companion's death. As has beensaid, however, the missionary was suffered to lie in his wild grave,without suffering a mutilation of his remains.

　　Notwithstanding this moderation, the Indians were getting to beincited by this taste of blood. The principal chiefs became sternerin their aspects, and the young men began to manifest some suchimpatience as that which the still untried pup betrays, when hefirst scents his game. All these were ominous symptoms, and werewell understood by the captive.

　　Perhaps it would not have been possible, in the whole range of humanfeelings, to find two men under influences more widely opposed toeach other than were the missionary and the corporal, in this, theirlast scene on earth. The manner of Parson Amen's death has beendescribed. He died in humble imitation of his Divine Master, askingfor blessings on those who were about to destroy him, with a heartsoftened by Christian graces, and a meekness that had its origin inthe consciousness of his own demerits. On the other hand, thecorporal thought only of vengeance. Escape he knew to be impossible,and he would fain take his departure like a soldier, or as heconceived a soldier should die, in the midst of fallen 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 itis usual to dignify with that term, showed themselves even at thatserious moment. He had heard around the camp-fires, and in thegarrisons, so many tales of heroism and of fortitude manifested bysoldiers who had fallen into the hands of the Indians, that a faintdesire to enroll his own name on the list of these worthies wasbeginning to arise in his breast. But truth compels us to add thatthe predominant feeling was the wish to revenge his own fate, byimmolating as many of his foes as possible. To this last purpose,therefore, his thoughts were mainly directed, during that intervalwhich his late companion had employed in prayers for those underwhose blows he was about to fall. Such is the difference in man,with his heart touched, or untouched, by the power of the HolySpirit.

　　It was, however, much easier for the corporal to entertain designsof the nature mentioned than to carry them out: unarmed, surroundedby watchful enemies, and totally without support of any sort, thechances of effecting his purpose were small indeed. Once, for aminute only, the veteran seriously turned his thoughts to escape. Itoccurred to him, that he might possibly reach the castle, could heget a little start; and should the Indians compel him to run thegauntlet, as was often their practice, he determined to make aneffort for life in that mode. Agreeably to the code of frontierwarfare, a successful flight of this nature was scarcely lesscreditable 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 proposeddespatching a party to the castle, to bring in the family, and thusmake a common destruction of the remaining pale-faces known to be inthat part of the Openings. Peter did not dare to oppose this scheme,himself; but he so managed as to get Crowsfeather to do it, withoutbringing himself into the foreground. The influence of thePottawattamie prevailed, and it was decided to torture this onecaptive, and to secure his scalp, before they proceeded to worktheir will on the others. Ungque, who had gained ground rapidly byhis late success, was once more commissioned to state to the captivethe intentions of his captors.

　　"Brother," commenced The Weasel, placing himself directly in frontof the corporal, "I am about to speak to you. A wise warrior openshis ears, when he hears the voice of his enemy. He may learnsomething it will be good for him to know. It will be good for youto know what I am about to say.

　　"Brother, you are a pale-face, and we are Injins. You wish to getour hunting-grounds, and we wish to keep them. To keep them, it hasbecome necessary to take your scalp. I hope you are ready to let ushave it."

　　The corporal had but an indifferent knowledge of the Indianlanguage, but he comprehended all that was uttered on this occasion.Interest quickened his faculties, and no part of what was said waslost. The gentle, slow, deliberate manner in which The Weaseldelivered himself, contributed to his means of understanding. He wasfortunately prepared for what her heard, and the announcement of hisapproaching fate did not disturb him to the degree of betrayingweakness. This last was a triumph in which the Indians delighted,though they ever showed the most profound respect for such of theirvictims as manifested a manly fortitude. It was necessary to reply,which the corporal did in English, knowing that several presentcould interpret his words. With a view to render this the more easy,he spoke in fragments of sentences, and with great deliberation.

　　"Injins," returned the corporal, "you surrounded me, and I have beentaken prisoner--had there been a platoon on us, you mightn't havemade out quite so well. It's no great victory for three hundredwarriors to overcome a single man. I count Parson Amen as worse thannothing, for he looked to neither rear nor flank. If I could havehalf an hour's work upon you, with only half of our late company, Ithink we should lower your conceit. But that is impossible, and soyou may do just what you please with me. I ask no favors."

　　Although this answer was very imperfectly translated, it awakened agood deal of admiration. A man who could look death so closely inthe face, with so much steadiness, became a sort of hero in Indianeyes; and with the North American savage, fortitude is a virtue notinferior to courage. Murmurs of approbation were heard, and Ungquewas privately requested to urge the captive further, in order to seehow far present appearances were likely to be maintained.

　　"Brother, I have said that we are Injins," resumed The Weasel, withan air so humble, and a voice so meek, that a stranger might havesupposed he was consoling, instead of endeavoring to intimidate, theprisoner. "It is true. We are nothing but poor, ignorant Injins. Wecan only torment our prisoners after Injin fashion. If we were pale-faces, we might do better. We did not torment the medicine-priest.We were afraid he would laugh at our mistakes. He knew a great deal.We know but little. 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 provethat you are all over man. We wish so to torment you that you willstand up under the pain in such a way that it will make our youngmen think your mother was not a squaw--that there is no woman inyou. We do this for our own honor, as well as for yours. It will bean honor to us to have such a captive; it will be an honor to you tobe such a captive. We shall 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 onthe path to the happy hunting-grounds of your--"

　　Here, a most unexpected interruption occurred, that effectually puta stop to the eloquence of Ungque. In his desire to make animpression, the savage approached within reach of the captive's arm,while his own mind was intent on the words that he hoped would makethe prisoner quail. The corporal kept his eye on that of thespeaker, charming him, as it were, into a riveted gaze, in return.Watching his opportunity, he caught the tomahawk from The Weasel'sbelt, and by a single blow, felled him dead at his feet. Not contentwith this, the old soldier now bounded forward, striking right andleft, inflicting six or eight wounds on others, before he could beagain arrested, disarmed, and bound. While the last was doing, Peterwithdrew, unobserved.

　　Many were the "hughs" and other exclamations of admiration thatsucceeded this display of desperate manhood! The body of The Weaselwas removed, and interred, while the wounded withdrew to attend totheir hurts; leaving the arena to the rest assembled there. As forthe corporal, he was pretty well blown, and, in addition to beingnow bound hand and foot, his recent exertions, which were terrificwhile they lasted, effectually incapacitated him from making anymove, so long as he was thus exhausted and confined.

　　A council was now held by the principal chiefs. Ungque had fewfriends. In this, he shared the fate of most demagogues, who arecommonly despised even by those they lead and deceive. No oneregretted him much, and some were actually glad of his fate. But thedignity of the conquerors must be vindicated. It would never do toallow a pale-face to obtain so great an advantage, and not take asignal vengeance for his deeds. After a long consultation, it wasdetermined to subject the captive to the trial by saplings, and thussee if he could bear the torture 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,the compass of their means, that the North American Indians have notessayed on their enemies. When the infernal ingenuity that isexercised on these occasions fails of its effect, the captivesthemselves have been heard to suggest other means of torturing thatthey have known practised successfully by their own people. There isoften a strange strife between the tormentors and the tormented; theone to manifest skill in inflicting pain, and the other to manifestfortitude in enduring it. As has just been said, quite as muchrenown is often acquired by the warrior, in setting all the devicesof his conquerors at defiance, while subject to their hellishattempts, as in deeds of arms. It might be more true to say thatsuch was the practice among the Indians, than to say, at the presenttime, that such is; for it is certain that civilization in itsapproaches, while it has in many particulars even degraded the redman, has had a silent effect in changing and mitigating many of hisfiercer customs--this, perhaps, among the rest. It is probable thatthe more distant tribes still resort to all these ancient usages;but it is both hoped and believed that those nearer to the whites donot.

　　The "torture by saplings" is one of those modes of inflicting painthat would naturally suggest themselves to savages. Young trees thatdo not stand far apart are trimmed of their branches, and broughtnearer to each other by bending their bodies; the victim is thenattached to both trunks, sometimes by his extended arms, at othersby his legs, or by whatever part of the frame cruelty can suggest,when the saplings are released, and permitted to resume theirupright positions. Of course, the sufferer is lifted from the earth,and hangs suspended by his limbs, with a strain on them that soonproduces the most intense anguish. The celebrated punishment of the"knout" partakes a good deal of this same character of suffering.Bough of the Oak now approached the corporal, to let him know howhigh 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 youhave wounded several of our young men. No one but a brave could havedone this. You have forced us to bind you, lest you might kill somemore. It is not often that captives do this. Your courage has causedus to consult how we might best torture you, in a way most tomanifest your manhood. After talking together, the chiefs havedecided that a man of your firmness ought to be hung between twoyoung trees. We have found the trees, and have cut off theirbranches. You can see them. If they were a little larger their forcewould be greater, and they would give you more pain--would be moreworthy of you; but these are the largest saplings we could find. Hadthere been any larger, we would have let you have them. We wish todo you honor, for you are a bold warrior, and worthy to be welltormented.

　　"Brother, look at these saplings! They are tall and straight. Whenthey are bent by many hands, they will come together. Take away thehands, and they will become straight again. Your arms must then keepthem together. We wish we had some pappooses here, that they mightshoot arrows into your flesh. That would help much to torment you.You cannot have this honor, for we have no pappooses. We are afraidto let our young men shoot arrows into your flesh. They are strong,and might kill you. We wish you to die between the saplings, as isyour right, being so great a brave.

　　"Brother, we think much better of you since you killed The Weasel,and hurt our young men. If all your warriors at Chicago had been asbold as you, Black-Bird would not have taken that fort. You wouldhave saved many scalps. This encourages us. It makes us think theGreat Spirit means to help us, and that we shall kill all the pale-faces. When we get further into your settlements, we do not expectto meet many such braves as you. They tell us we shall then find menwho will run, and screech like women. It will not be a pleasure totorment such men. We had rather torment a bold warrior, like you,who makes us admire him for his manliness. We love our squaws, butnot in the warpath. They are best in the lodges; here we wantnothing but men. You are a man--a brave--we honor you. We think,notwithstanding, we shall yet make you weak. It will not be easy,yet we hope to do it. We shall try. We may not think quite so wellof you, if we do it; but we shall always call you a brave. A man isnot a stone. We can all feel, and when we have done all that is inour power, no one can do more. It is so with Injins; we think itmust be 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 Boughof the Oak's allusions to them. He was in a cold sweat at thethought, for resolute as he was, he foresaw sufferings that humanfortitude could hardly endure. In this state of the case, and in theframe of mind he was in, he had recourse to an expedient of which hehad often heard, and which he thought might now be practised to someadvantage. It was to open upon the savages with abuse, and toexasperate them, by taunts and sarcasm, to such a degree as mightinduce some of the weaker members of the tribe to dispatch him onthe spot. As the corporal, with the perspective of the saplingsbefore his eyes, manifested a good deal of ingenuity on thisoccasion, we shall record some of his efforts.

　　"D'ye call yourselves chiefs and warriors?" he began, upon a prettyhigh key. "I call ye squaws! There is not a man among ye. Dogs wouldbe the best name. You are poor Injins. A long time ago, the pale-faces came here in two or three little canoes. They were but ahandful, and you were plentier than prairie wolves. Your bark couldbe heard throughout the land. Well, what did this handful of pale-faces? It drove your fathers before them, until they got all thebest of the hunting-grounds. Not an Injin of you all, now, ever getdown on the shores of the great salt lake, unless to sell brooms andbaskets, and then he goes sneaking like a wolf after a sheep. Youhave forgotten how clams and oysters taste. Your fathers had as manyof them as they could eat; but not one of you ever tasted them. Thepale-faces eat them all. If an Injin asked for one, they would throwthe 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 these? No! They would scorn to practice suchpitiful torture. They would bring the tops of two tall pinestogether, trees a hundred and fifty feet high, and put theirprisoner on the topmost boughs, for the crows and ravens to pick hiseyes out. But you are miserable Injins! You know nothing. If youknow'd any better, would you act such poor torment ag'in' a greatbrave? I spit upon ye, and call you squaws. The pale-faces have madewomen of ye. They have taken out your hearts, and put pieces ofdog's flesh in their places."

　　Here the corporal, who delivered himself with an animation suited tohis language, was obliged to pause, literally for want of breath.Singular as it may seem, this tirade excited great admiration amongthe savages. It is true, that very few understood what was said;perhaps no one understood all, but the manner was thought to beadmirable. When some of the language was interpreted, a deep butsmothered resentment was felt; more especially at the tauntstouching the manner in which the whites had overcome the red men.Truth is hard to be borne, and the individual, or people, who willtreat a thousand injurious lies with contempt, feel all their irearoused 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 ofseeing that his 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 offlesh. If our hearts be of dog's meat, yours is of stone. What yousay is true. The pale-faces did come at first in two or threecanoes, and there were but few of them. We are ashamed, for it istrue, A few pale-faces drove toward the setting sun many Injins. Butwe cannot be driven any further. We mean to stop here, and begin totake all the scalps we can. A great chief, who belongs to no onetribe, but belongs to all tribes, who speaks all tongues, has beensent by the Great Spirit to arouse us. He has done it. You know him.He came from the head of the lake with you, and kept his eye on yourscalp. He has meant to take it from the first. He waited only for anopportunity. That opportunity has come, and we now mean to do as hehas told us we ought to do. This is right. Squaws are in a hurry;warriors know how to wait. We would kill you at once, and hang yourscalp on our pole, but it would not be right We wish to do what isright. If we are poor Injins, and know but little, we know what isright. 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 somany enemies, and who has so big a heart, ought not to be knocked inthe head like a pappoose or a squaw. It is his right to betormented. We are getting ready, and shall soon begin. If my brothercan tell us a new way of tormenting, we are willing to try it.Should we not make out as well as pale-faces, my brother willremember who we are. We mean to do our best, and we hope to make hisheart soft. If we do this, great will be our honor. Should we not doit, 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 timehe was so well warmed as to think or care very little about thesaplings, and to overlook the pain they might occasion.

　　"Dogs can do little but bark; 'specially Injin dogs," he said."Injins themselves are little better than their own dogs. They canbark, but they don't know how to bite. You have many great chiefshere. Some are panthers, and some bears, and some buffaloes; butwhere are your weasels? I have fit you now these twenty years, andnever have I known ye to stand up to the baggonet. It's not Injinnatur' to do that."

　　Here the corporal, without knowing it, made some such reproach tothe aboriginal warriors of America as the English used to throw intothe teeth of ourselves--that of not standing up to a weapon whichneither party possessed. It was matter of great triumph that theAmericans would not stand the charge of the bayonet at the renownedfight on Breed's, for instance, when it is well known that not oneman in five among the colonists had any such weapon at all to "standup" with. A different story was told at Guildford, and Stony Point,and Eutaw, and Bennington, and Bemis' Heights, and fifty otherplaces that might be named, after the troops were furnished withbayonets. Then it was found that the Americans could use them aswell as others, and so might it have proved with the red men, thoughtheir discipline, or mode of fighting, scarce admitted of suchsystematic charges. All this, however, the corporal overlooked, muchas if he were a regular historian who was writing to make out acase.

　　"Harkee, brother, since you will call me brother; though, Heaven bepraised, not a drop of nigger or Injin blood runs in my veins,"resumed the corporal. "Harkee, friend redskin, answer me one thing.Did you ever hear of such a man as Mad Anthony? He was the ticklerfor your infernal tribes! You pulled no saplings together for him.He put you up with 'the long-knives and leather-stockings,' and yououtrun his fleetest horses. I was with him, and saw more naked backsthan naked faces among your people, that day. Your Great Bear got arap on his nose that sent him to his village yelping like a cur."

　　Again was the corporal compelled to stop to take breath. Theallusion to Wayne, and his defeat of the Indians, excited so muchire, that several hands grasped knives and tomahawks, and one arrowwas actually drawn nearly to the head; but the frown of Bear's Meatprevented any outbreak, or actual violence. It wa's deemed prudent,however, to put an end to this scene, lest the straightforwardcorporal, who laid it on heavily, and who had so much to say aboutIndian defeats, might actually succeed in touching some festeringwound that would bring him to his death at once. It was,accordingly, determined to proceed with the torture of the saplingswithout further delay.

　　The corporal was removed accordingly, and placed between the twobended trees, which were kept together by withes around their tops.An arm of the captive was bound tightly at the wrist to the top ofeach tree, so that his limbs were to act as the only tie between thesaplings, as soon as the withes should be cut. The Indians nowworked in silence, and the matter was getting to be much too seriousfor the corporal to indulge in any more words. The cold sweatreturned, and many an anxious glance was cast by the veteran on thefell preparations. Still he maintained appearances, and when all wasready, not a man there was aware of the agony of dread whichprevailed in the breast of the victim. It was not death that hefeared as much as suffering. A few minutes, the corporal well knew,would make the pain intolerable, while he saw no hope of putting aspeedy end to his existence. A man might live hours in such asituation. Then it was that the teachings of childhood were revivedin the bosom of this hardened man, and he remembered the Being thatdied for him, in common with the rest of the human race, on thetree. The seeming similarity of his own execution struck hisimagination, and brought a tardy but faint recollection of thoselessons that had lost most of their efficacy in the wickedness andimpiety of camps. His soul struggled for relief in that direction,but the present scene was too absorbing to admit of its liftingitself so far above his humanity.

　　"Warrior of the pale-faces," said Bough of the Oak, "we are going tocut the withe. You will then be where a brave man will want all hiscourage. If you are firm, we will do you honor; if you faint andscreech, our young men will laugh at you. This is the way withInjins. They honor braves; they point the finger at cowards."

　　Here a sign was made by Bear's Meat, and a warrior raised thetomahawk that was to separate the fastenings, His hand was in thevery act of descending, when the crack of a rifle was heard, and alittle smoke rose out of the thicket, near the spot where the bee-hunter and the corporal, himself, had remained so long hid, on theoccasion of the council first held in that place. The tomahawk fell,however, the withes were parted, and up flew the saplings, with aviolence that threatened to tear the arms of the victim out of theirsockets.

　　The Indians listened, expecting the screeches and groans;--theygazed, hoping to witness the writhings of their captive. But theywere disappointed. There hung the body, its arms distended, stillholding the tops of the saplings bowed, but not a sign of life wasseen. A small line of blood trickled down the forehead, and above itwas the nearly imperceptible hole made by the passage of a bullet.The head itself had fallen forward, and a little on one shoulder.The corporal had escaped the torments reserved for him, by thisfriendly blow.

　　It was so much a matter of course for an Indian to revenge his ownwounds--to alleviate his smarts, by retaliating on those whoinflicted them--that the chiefs expressed neither surprise norresentment at the manner of the corporal's death. There was somedisappointment, it is true; but no anger was manifested, since itwas supposed that some one of those whom the prisoner had woundedhad seen fit, in this mode, to revenge his own hurts. In this,however, the Indians deceived themselves. The well-intentioned anddeadly shot that saved the corporal from hours of agony came fromthe friendly hand of Pigeonswing, who had no sooner discharged hisrifle than he stole away through the thicket, and was neverdiscovered. This he did, too, at the expense of Ungque's scalp, onwhich 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 onthe course of future proceedings. There was an inquiry for Peter,but Peter was not to be found. Bough of the Oak suggested that themysterious chief must have gone to the palisaded hut, in order toget the remaining scalps, his passion for this symbol of triumphsover pale-faces being well known. It was, therefore, incumbent onthe whole band to follow, with the double view of sharing in thehonor of the assault, and of rendering assistance.

　　Abandoning the body of the corporal where it hung, away went thesesavages, by this time keenly alive to the scent of blood. Somethinglike order was observed, however, each chief leading his ownparticular part of the band, in his own way, but on a designatedroute. Bear's Meat acted as commander-in-chief, the subordinateleaders following his instructions with reasonable obedience. Somewent in one direction, others in another; until the verdant bottomnear the sweet spring was deserted.

　　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, whichwere intended to answer the double purpose of signals, and ofstriking terror to the hearts of the besieged; the North AmericanIndians making ample use 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 preparationsfor defence; but the garrison kept close. Nor was Peter to be seen.He might be a prisoner, or he might not have come in this direction.It was just possible that he might be stealing up to the building,to get a nearer view, and a closer scout.

　　Indian warfare is always stealthy. It is seldom, indeed, that theaboriginal Americans venture on an open assault of any fortifiedplace, however small and feeble it may be. Ignorant of the use ofartillery, and totally without that all-important arm, theirapproaches to any cover, whence a bullet may be sent against them,are ever wary, slow, and well concerted. They have no idea oftrenches--do not possess the means of making them, indeed--but theyhave such substitutes of their own as usually meet all their wants,more particularly in portions of the country that are wooded. Incases like this before our present band, they had to exercise theirwits to invent new modes of effecting their purposes.

　　Bear's Meat collected his principal chiefs, and, after aconsiderable amount of consultation, it was determined, in thepresent instance, to try the virtue of fire. The only sign of lifethey could detect about the hut was an occasional bark from Hive,who had been taken within the building, most probably to protect himfrom the bullets and arrows of the enemy. Even this animal did nothowl like a dog in distress; but he barked, as if aware of thevicinity of strangers. The keenest scrutiny could not detect anoutlet of any sort about the hut. Everything was tightly closed, andit was impossible to say when, or whence, a bullet might not be sentagainst the unwary.

　　The plan was soon formed, and was quite as rapidly executed. Boughof the Oak, himself, supported by two or three other braves,undertook to set the buildings on fire. This was done by approachingthe kitchen, dodging from tree to tree, making each movement with arapidity that defeated aim, and an irregularity that defiedcalculation. In this way the kitchen was safely reached, where therewas a log cover to conceal the party. Here also was fire, the foodfor dinner being left, just as it had been put over to boil, notlong before. The Indians had prepared themselves with arrows andlight wood, and soon they commenced sending their flaming missilestoward the roof of the hut. Arrow after arrow struck, and it was notlong 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 knewhis peril. Still, no human being appeared. Presently the flamingroof fell in and the savages listened intently to hear the screechesof their victims. The howls of the dog increased, and he was soonseen, with his hair burned from his skin, leaping on the unroofedwall, and thence into the area within the palisades. A bulletterminated his sufferings as he alighted.

　　Bear's Meat now gave the signal, and a general rush was made. Norifle opposed them, and a hundred Indians were soon at thepalisades. To the surprise of all, the gate was found unfastened.Rushing within, the door of the hut was forced, and a view obtainedof the blazing furnace within. The party had arrived in sufficientseason to perceive fragments of le Bourdon's rude furniture andstores yet blazing, but nowhere was a human corpse visible. Poleswere got, and the brands were removed, in the expectation of findingbones beneath them; but without success. It was now certain that nopale-face had perished in that hut. Then the truth flashed on theminds of all the savages: le Bourdon and his friends had taken thealarm in time, and had escaped!