c hurricane of hail and rain. This put out
the fires and drove all the tormentors away but a few impish children,
who stayed to pluck nails from the hands and feet of the captives and
shoot arrows with barbed points at the naked bodies. Every iniquity
that cruelty could invent, these children practised on the captives.
Red-hot spears were brought from the lodge fires and thrust into the
prisoners. The mutilated finger ends were ground between stones.
Thongs were twisted round wrists and ankles, by sticks put through a
loop, till flesh was cut to the bone. As the rain ceased falling, a
woman, who was probably the wife of one of the murdered Mohawks,
brought her little boy to cut one of Radisson's fingers with a flint
stone. The child was too young and ran away from the gruesome task.

Gathering darkness fell over the horrible spectacle. The exhausted
captives, some in a delirium from pain, others unconscious, were led to
separate lodges, or dragged over the ground, and left tied for the
night. The next morning all were returned to the scaffolds, but the
first day had glutted the Iroquois appetite for tortures. The friendly
family was permitted to approach Radisson. The mother brought him food
and told him that the Council Lodge had decided not to kill him for
that day--they wanted the young white warrior for their own ranks; but
even as the cheering hope was uttered, came a brave with a pipe of live
coals, in which he thrust and held Radisson's thumb. No sooner had the
tormentor left than the woman bound up the burn and oiled Radisson's
wounds. He suffered no abuse that day till night, when the soles of
both feet were burned. The majority of the captives were flung into a
great bonfire. On the third day of torture he almost lost his life.
First came a child to gnaw at his fingers. Then a man appeared armed
for the ghastly work of mutilation. Both these the Iroquois father of
Radisson sent away. Once, when none of the friendly family happened to
be near, Radisson was seized and bound for burning, but by chance the
lighted faggot scorched his executioner. A friendly hand slashed the
thongs that bound him, and he was drawn back to the scaffold.

Past caring whether he lived or died, and in too great agony from the
burns of his feet to realize where he was going, Radisson was conducted
to the Great Council. Sixty old men sat on a circle of mats, smoking,
round the central fire. Before them stood seven othe