Part 23 (1/2)

The Woodp.e.c.k.e.r re-whetted his knife. It did not need it, but he liked the sound.

Little Beaver now carried a lot of light firewood and arranged it in front of the prisoner, but Guy's legs were free and he gave it a kick which sent it all flying. The two War-chiefs leaped aside. ”Ugh! Heap sa.s.sy,” said the ferocious Woodp.e.c.k.e.r. ”Tie him legs, oh, Brother Great Chief Little Beaver!”

A new bark strip tied his legs securely to the tree. Then Chief Woodp.e.c.k.e.r approached with his knife and said:

”Great Brother Chief Little Beaver, if we scalp him there is only one scalp, and _you_ will have nothing to show, except you're content with the wishbone.”

Here was a difficulty, artificial yet real, but Yan suggested:

”Great Brother Chief Red-headed-Woodp.e.c.k.e.r-Settin'-on-a-Stump-with-his-Tail-Waggling-over-the Edge, no scalp him; skin his hull head, then each take half skin.”

”Wah! Very good, oh Brother Big-Injun-Chief Great-Little-Beaver- Chaw-a-Tree-Down.”

Then the Woodp.e.c.k.e.r got a piece of charcoal and proceeded in horrid gravity to mark out on the tow hair of the prisoner just what he considered a fair division. Little Beaver objected that he was ent.i.tled to an ear and half of the crown, which is the essential part of the scalp. The Woodp.e.c.k.e.r pointed out that fortunately the prisoner had a cow-lick that was practically a second crown. This ought to do perfectly well for the younger Chief's share. The charcoal lines were dusted off for a try-over. Both Chiefs got charcoal now and a new sketch plan was made on Guy's tow top and corrected till it was accepted by both.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Ugh! Heap sa.s.sy!”]

The victim had really never lost heart till now. His flow of threats and epithets had been continuous and somewhat tedious. He had threatened to tell his ”paw” and ”the teacher,” and all the world, but finally he threatened to tell Mr. Raften. This was the nearest to a home thrust of any yet, and in some uneasiness the Woodp.e.c.k.e.r turned to Little Beaver and said:

”Brother Chief, do you comprehend the language of the blithering Paleface? What does he say?”

”Ugh, I know not,” was the reply. ”Maybe he now singeth a death song in his own tongue.”

Guy was not without pluck. He had kept up heart so far believing that the boys were ”foolin',” but when he felt the awful charcoal line drawn to divide his scalp satisfactorily between these two inhuman, painted monsters, and when with a final ”_weet, weet, weet_”

of the knife on the stone the implacable Woodp.e.c.k.e.r approached and grabbed his tow locks in one hand, then he broke down and wept bitterly.

”Oh, please don't----Oh, Paw! Oh, Maw! Let me go this time an' I'll never do it again.” What he would not do was not specified, but the evidence of surrender was complete.

”Hold on, Great Brother Chief,” said Little Beaver. ”It is the custom of the tribes to release or even to adopt such prisoners as have shown notable fort.i.tude.”

”Showed fort.i.tude enough for six if it's the same thing as yellin',”

said the Woodp.e.c.k.e.r, dropping into his own vernacular.

”Let us cut his bonds so that he may escape to his own people.”

”Thar'd be more style to it if we left him thar overnight an' found next mornin' he had escaped somehow by himself,” said the older Chief.

The victim noted the improvement in his situation and now promised amid sobs to get them all the Birch bark they wanted--to do anything, if they would let him go. He would even steal for them the choicest products of his father's orchard.

Little Beaver drew his knife and cut bond after bond.

Woodp.e.c.k.e.r got his bow and arrow, remarking ”Ugh, heap fun shoot him runnin'.”

The last bark strip was cut. Guy needed no urging. He ran for the boundary fence in silence till he got over; then finding himself safe and unpursued, he rilled the air with threats and execrations. No part of his statement would do to print here.

After such a harrowing experience most boys would have avoided that swamp, but Guy knew Sam at school as a good-natured fellow. He began to think he had been unduly scared. He was impelled by several motives, a burning curiosity being, perhaps the most important. The result was that one day when the boys came to camp they saw Guy sneaking off. It was fun to capture him and drag him back. He was very sullen, and not so noisy as the other time, evidently less scared.

The Chiefs talked of fire and torture and of ducking him in the pond without getting much response. Then they began to cross-examine the prisoner. He gave no answer. Why did he come to the camp? What was he doing--stealing? etc. He only looked sullen.

”Let's blindfold him and drive a Gyascutus down his back,” said Yan in a hollow voice.