tinued the renegade, speaking in a low whisper.
"They wouldn't let me speak at the council. I told Cornplanter that
killin' you might bring the Hurons down on him, but he wouldn't
listen. Yesterday, in the camp of the Delawares, I saw Col. Crawford
burnt at the stake. He was a friend of mine at Pitt, and I didn't
dare to say one word to the frenzied Indians. I had to watch the
torture. Pipe and Wingenund, both old friends of Crawford, stood by
and watched him walk round the stake on the red-hot coals five
hours."

Isaac shuddered at the words of the renegade, but did not answer. He
had felt from the first that his case was hopeless, and that no
opportunity for escape could possibly present itself in such a large
encampment. He set his teeth hard and resolved to show the red
devils how a white man could die.

Several speeches were made by different chiefs and then an
impressive oration by Big Tree. At the conclusion of the speeches,
which were in an unknown tongue to Isaac, Cornplanter handed a
war-club to Half Town. This chief got up, walked to the end of the
circle, and there brought the club down on the ground with a
resounding thud. Then he passed the club to Big Tree. In a solemn
and dignified manner every chief duplicated Half Town's performance
with the club.

Isaac watched the ceremony as if fascinated. He had seen a war-club
used in the councils of the Hurons and knew that striking it on the
ground signified war and death.

"White man, you are a killer of Indians," said Cornplanter in good
English. "When the sun shines again you die."

A brave came forward and painted Isaac's face black. This Isaac knew
to indicate that death awaited him on the morrow. On his way back to
his prison-lodge he saw that a war-dance was in progress.

A hundred braves with tomahawks, knives, and mallets in their hands
were circling round a post and keeping time to the low music of a
muffled drum. Close together, with heads bowed, they marched. At
certain moments, which they led up to with a dancing on rigid legs
and a stamping with their feet, they wheeled, and uttering hideous
yells, started to march in the other direction. When this had been
repeated three times a brave stepped from the line, advanced, and
struck his knife or tomahawk into the post. Then with a loud voice
he proclaimed his past exploits and great deeds in war. The other
Indians greeted this with loud yells of applause and a flourishing
of weapons. Then the