m that soon produces the most intense
anguish. The celebrated punishment of the "knout" partakes a good deal
of this same character of suffering. Bough of the Oak now approached
the corporal, to let him know how high an honor was in reserve for him.

"Brother," said this ambitious orator, "you are a brave warrior. You
have done well. Not only have you killed one of our chiefs, but you
have wounded several of our young men. No one but a brave could have
done this. You have forced us to bind you, lest you might kill some
more. It is not often that captives do this. Your courage has caused
us to consult _how_ we might best torture you, in a way most to
manifest your manhood. After talking together, the chiefs have decided
that a man of your firmness ought to be hung between two young trees.
We have found the trees, and have cut off their branches. You can see
them. If they were a little larger their force would be greater, and
they would give you more pain--would be more worthy of you; but these
are the largest saplings we could find. Had there been any larger, we
would have let you have them. We wish to do you honor, for you are a
bold warrior, and worthy to be well tormented.

"Brother, look at these saplings! They are tall and straight. When
they are bent by many hands, they will come together. Take away the
hands, and they will become straight again. Your arms must then keep
them together. We wish we had some pappooses here, that they might
shoot arrows into your flesh. That would help much to torment you.
You cannot have this honor, for we have no pappooses. We are afraid to
let our young men shoot arrows into your flesh. They are strong, and
might kill you. We wish you to die between the saplings, as is your
right, being so great a brave.

"Brother, we think much better of you since you killed The Weasel, and
hurt our young men. If all your warriors at Chicago had been as bold
as you, Black-Bird would not have taken that fort. You would have
saved many scalps. This encourages us. It makes us think the Great
Spirit means to help us, and that we shall kill all the pale-faces.
When we get further into your settlements, we do not expect to meet
many such braves as you. They tell us we shall then find men who will
run, and screech like women. It will not be a pleasure to torment such
men. We had rather torment a bold warrior, like you, who makes us
admire him for his manliness. We love our