f intelligence, to whom all eyes
turned with seeming deference--was the celebrated Shawanoe chief,
Catahecassa, (Black Hoof) whose name occupies no inferior place on the
historic page of the present day, as being at first the inveterate foe,
and afterward the warm friend of the whites. In stature he was small,
being only about five feet eight inches, lightly made, but strongly put
together, with a countenance marked and manly, and one that would be
pleasing to a friend, but the reverse to an enemy. He was a great
orator, a keen, cunning and sagacious warrior, and one who held the
confidence and love of his tribe. At the period referred to, he was far
past what is usually termed the middle age; though, as subsequent events
have proved, only in his noon of life--for at his death he numbered one
hundred and ten years.

Upon the ground, within the circle, and near the old chief in the
center, were seated Algernon and Younker--the latter having recovered
consciousness--both haggard and bloody from their recent brutal
treatment. They were sad spectacles to behold, truly, and would have
moved to pity any hearts less obdurate than those by which they were
surrounded. Their faces bore those expressions of dejection and wan
despair, which may sometimes be perceived in the look of a criminal,
when, loth to die, he is assured all hope of pardon is past. Not that
either Younker or Reynolds felt criminal, or feared death in its
ordinary way; but there were a thousand things to harass their minds,
besides the dreadful thought of that lingering, horrible torture, which
was enough to make the boldest quail, and which they now had not the
faintest hope of escaping. There is ever something solemn and awful in
the thought of death, let it come in the mildest form possible--for the
individual feels he is hastening to that silent bourne, whence none
have e'er returned to tell its mysteries--yet such is as nothing in
comparison with the death our prisoners were now silently awaiting, away
from friends and all sympathy, in the full vigor of animal life, to be
fairly worn out by the most excruciating pains, amid the hootings and
revilings of a savage foe. It was enough to have made the stoutest heart
faint, trembling and sick; and thus our unfortunate friends felt, as
they slowly gazed around and saw nothing but fierce, angry looks bent
upon them.

Girty was the first to address the assemblage, in the Indian dialect,
in an animated and angry