way to do."

At the "prisoners'" whoop the village people had boiled out of their
woven-reed houses. One of the Indians had hurried in advance, to tell
the news, and the gauntlet lines were forming. It was to be a gauntlet
by boys for other boys! There were only Indian boys in the lines--they
were armed with sticks and switches and stones and small tomahawks and
handfuls of salt and dirt (for the eyes), the same as warriors and
squaws.

The five captives were halted. They had been greeted with yells and
screeches; but they set their lips and clenched their hands, and stood
ready. What their brothers and fathers and grand-fathers had done,
they could do. It was quite an honor, to be made to run the gauntlet,
like men.

The littler Linn was shoved forward, to lead the race. He was the
smallest, and would hold the other boys back--and he had been the
spunkiest, all the way up, because he had a quick temper and was prompt
to fight. The Indians had liked to tease him.

"Go!" shouted the chief Indian. "Run!"

They ducked their heads, and ran. How they did run, and dodge, and
scoot, in between the two lines which showered them with blows and
kicks and stones and dirt! Boys against boys; that was it--and some of
the Indian boys were hulking big fellows.

The five white boys did well; they were shifty and butted right on,
till young Linn "got his mad up." Two-thirds of the way down a big
Indian boy hit him a stunning crack full on the jaw. So what did he do
but stop and whirl and with a straight left-hander knock the boy
sprawling.

This was contrary to gauntlet rules. Anybody running the gauntlet was
fair prey to everybody else, but he couldn't strike back. Now the
warriors who were watching the fun doubled over, laughing at the way
the small boy had bowled the large boy over. The Indian boy's mother
and the other women shrieked angrily.

"Kill him! Kill the little Long Knife demon!"

Young Linn--he burst through the line and ran for life, to the council
house. The lines broke, and yelling, chased after. It was to be blood
for blood--and more than a mere bloody nose, too.

He got there first. He was a sight. His shock of hair had fallen over
his forehead, his eyes glared--he had put his back to the council-house
post, planted his foot, his hands were up, and he dared the whole crowd
of them. He was so mad he could scarcely see. He looked dangerous for
even a ten-year-old.

The largest of th