At the Stake
Dick and Ben were horrified, as well as amazed when they were confronted
by the encircling gang of Indians.
That they could not escape was evident, for the redskins had them at
such a disadvantage it would be folly to try to do so. They would be
either cut down by tomahawks or pierced by arrows before they could draw
their pistols.
The Indian who had spoken first now said something to his companion
braves in a guttural voice, and a couple advanced and bound the arms of
Dick and Ben together behind their backs.
Then they were encompassed about by the redskins and conducted away
through the forest. They traveled westward for a period of two or three
hours, and then they reached the camp of the Indians.
Dick and Tom were placed in a wigwam near the center of the village, and
guards were placed about the wigwam.
“Well, this isn’t very pleasant, Dick,” said Ben, when they were alone.
“No, it isn’t, Ben,” was the reply.
“I wonder what they’ll do with us?”
“I don’t know. Hold us prisoners, I suppose.”
“Do you think they are likely to burn us at the stake?” asked Ben, an
anxious note in his voice.
“I hardly think so,” was the reply. “I haven’t heard that the Cherokee
Indians torture prisoners.”
“Indians are not to be trusted,” said Ben.
“Well, we’ll have to wait till morning and see what they intend doing,”
said Dick. Then presently he went on: “I wonder where Tom is?”
“Possibly the Indians have got him a prisoner also, Dick.”
“Possibly, but I hope not. We must try to find out.”
They talked a while longer, and then lay down on the skins of wild
animals that constituted their beds, and presently went to sleep, and in
spite of their dangerous situation, they slept soundly till morning.
Food was brought them, after a while, and a couple of braves stood guard
over them while they ate. Then their hands were bound again, and they
were left to themselves an hour or more.
Then a couple of braves entered, and the two youths were conducted to a
point where a circle of Indians sat on the ground, while in the center
sat a big, ugly-looking Indian at least fifty years of age. This was the
chief, and the youths were taken in front of him.
“Ugh,” he grunted. “Young white men cause a lot uv braves to die over in
Peaceful Valley. Young white men’s lives must pay for braves. You die
to-night, at the stake.”
The youths glanced at each other, and then looked at the old chief
searchingly. They were trying to see whether he meant what he said, or
not. And from the grim look on his face, they guessed that he did mean
absolutely what he said. The part the youths had played in the affairs
at Peaceful Valley had angered the Indians, and they intended taking
revenge, now that they had the two captives helpless and in their power.
“Take um away,” said the chief, with a wave of his hand, and Dick and
Ben were conducted back to the wigwam. As soon as they were alone, they
looked at each other for a few moments in silence, a look of dismay on
their faces.
“The outlook is not very pleasing for us, Dick,” said Ben, presently.
“You are right, Ben. I wonder if we could escape?”
Ben shook his head. “Not much chance of that,” he said. “Our arms are
bound, and the wigwam is guarded. We couldn’t get away.”
“I guess you are right. But I don’t relish being burned at the stake,
Ben.”
“Neither do I.”
“Perhaps we can make a break and escape as we are being taken to the
place where they intend to conduct the ceremonies,” said Dick,
thoughtfully.
“I am for making the attempt, Dick.”
“Well, we will do our best.”
The time passed slowly, that day, but also it passed faster than the two
youths liked, for every hour that rolled away brought them nearer to the
torture-stake.
After supper, that evening, they sat and waited in almost complete
silence. They did not exchange many words, for they did not feel like
talking. They reiterated their determination to try to make their
escape, however, if any opportunity presented itself.
Presently it grew dark, and the youths heard considerable stirring
about. They judged that the Indians were getting ready for the ceremony
of burning them at the stake.
Slowly the time passed, and then presently into the wigwam came four
Indian braves. They seized hold of the arms of Dick and Ben, and hustled
them out of the wigwam, and conducted them toward a point just outside
the edge of the village, where a fire was burning. As they drew nearer,
the youths saw that several piles of wood had been gathered, and they
knew that this was to be piled about them, and set fire to. In spite of
the fact that they were brave youths, they shuddered.
They were led to a couple of tall, slender trees, about a foot in
diameter, and their backs were placed against the trees. The moment had
come when if at all the youths must make an attempt to get away, and
suddenly they gave a strong wrench and attempted to jerk away from their
captors’ grasp and make their escape, but they were quickly seized by a
number of strong hands and held against the trees, while they were
securely bound there with thongs.
Then the Indians began piling the wood around them, against their legs,
while all the members of the band gathered around, to watch the
proceedings.
Then brands from the fire were brought and stuck in among the dry wood
that had been piled around them, and soon the wood was on fire and
burning at a brisk rate.
Dick and Ben looked at each other, with despair in their eyes. They
could see no possible chance of escape.
Louder crackled the burning wood, and as the flames neared the limbs of
the prisoners, the redskins began chanting a guttural song of triumph.