The moment for starting arrived, the great drum at the door of the council-house was struck; and Kenton sprang forward in the race.  He, however, avoided the row of his enemies, and, turning to the east, drew the whole party in pursuit of him.  He doubled several times with great activity, and at length observing an opening he darted through it, and pressed forward to the council-house with a rapidity which left his pursuers far behind.  One or two of the Indians succeeded in throwing themselves between him and the goal, and from these alone he received a few blows, but was much less injured than he could at first have supposed possible.

After the race was over, a council to decide his fate was held, while he was handed over, naked and bound, to the care of a guard in the open air.  The deliberation commenced.  Every warrior sat in silence, while a large warclub was passed round the circle.  Those who were opposed to burning the prisoner on the spot, were to pass the club in silence to the next warrior.  Those in favor of burning were to strike the earth violently with the club before passing it.

A teller was appointed to count the votes.  This dignitary reported that the opposition had prevailed; and that it was determined to take the prisoner to an Indian town on Mad river, called Waughcotomoco.  His fate was announced to him by a renegado white man, who acted as interpreter.  Kenton asked “what the Indians intended to do with him upon reaching Waughcotomoco.”

“Burn you!” replied the renegado, with a ferocious oath.

After this pleasant assurance, the laconic and scowling interpreter walked away.

The prisoner’s clothes were restored to him, and he was permitted to remain unbound.  Thanks to the intimation of the interpreter, he was aware of the fate in reserve for him, and resolved that he would never be carried alive to Waughcotomoco.  Their route lay through an unprimed forest, abounding in thickets and undergrowth.  During the whole of the march, Kenton remained abstracted and silent; often meditating an effort for the recovery of his liberty, and as often shrinking from the peril of the attempt.

At length he was aroused from his reverie by the Indians firing off their guns, and raising the shrill scalp-halloo.  The signal was soon answered, and the deep roll of a drum was heard far in front, announcing to the unhappy prisoner, that they were approaching an Indian town, where the gauntlet, certainly, and perhaps the stake awaited him.

The idea of a repetition of the dreadful scenes he had just encountered, overcame his indecision, and, with a sudden and startling cry, he sprung into the bushes, and fled with the speed of a wild deer.  The pursuit was instant and keen.  Some of his pursuers were on horseback, some on foot.  But he was flying for his life.  The stake and the hot iron, and the burning splinters were before his eyes, and he soon distanced the swiftest hunter in pursuit.