d Arrow's medicine is weak because it has not been fed. Only blood will
make it strong. Let this man die before we break our camp." And he stirred
me with his foot.

"The prisoners belong to the Shawnees. My medicine may whisper to kill one
of them, but the warriors in sound of my voice must decide. Those who
would see one of the three die show the ax."

Almost as soon as he had spoken the air was filled with spinning axes,
ascending to the boughs and then falling to be deftly caught, each ax by
its owner.

"It is good," said the chief. "My medicine shall pick the prisoners to
die."

The explosion of the wooden cannon and the chief's ruling that we were no
longer Ward's prisoners appealed to me as a reprieve. At least the girl
was snatched from Ward's clutches. But the unanimous vote that one of us
must die threw me back on the rack.

It was inconceivable that Patricia Dale should thus die. And yet I had had
an earnest of the devil's ferocity. East of the mountains I could not have
imagined a hand ever being raised against her. And I had seen her buffeted
and struck down this day. Therefore, I did comprehend the inconceivable.

I called out to the chief:

"Catahecassa, listen to a white medicine, for the red medicine is far away
or else is asleep. If the white woman is harmed you will shed tears of
blood before you reach your Scioto towns. The settlers are swarming in to
head you off. You have no time to spend in torturing any prisoner.

"But had you many sleeps of time it would be bad for you to harm the white
girl. If you harm her you will have nothing to trade for an open path to
the river. If you are wise in war, as your enemies say you are, you will
guard her carefully at least until you make your villages above the
Ohio."

The chief's eyes shifted uneasily, but his voice was ominous as he tersely
advised:

"The white man had better ask his strong medicine to keep him from the
fire. One of the prisoners shall roast this night. I have said it."

He had not liked my words as they set his superstitions to working, but it
would never do for him to bow before the threats of a white medicine. So
he remained inexorable in his determination to cover his dead with a white
victim.

His raid into Virginia had been disastrous even though he could count the
four Grisdols, the seven men, women and children in Abb's Valley in his
death score. And he had taken three prisoners. Doubtless there were other
victims at t