“Run like deer!” said the Indian, as he jerked off the last strip of hide from the captive’s arm, “then he get more few knock.”

Casting one despairing look about him, and seeing not a possible chance of escape, even if he were not bound to the spot by the presence of Rudolph and Kitty, poor Tom entered upon the dread ordeal.  His weariness was forgotten as, in very desperation, he flew between the lines so rapidly that for a short distance the blows fell but lightly upon him.  Soon a crushing stroke from the back of a tomahawk fell heavily upon his shoulder, but he did not falter; the yells and blows of the savages lent wings to his feet—­until, at last, when the end was nearly reached, a huge chief struck him a blow, with his club, that felled him to the ground.  Springing up instantly, Tom dashed forward again, and staggered on to the end of the line where he sank to the ground, unable to rise.  Up to the last moment he could hear the shrieks of Rudolph rising above the din.  The poor child had been forced to witness Tom’s suffering from the first.

As soon as Tom opened his eyes he saw the pale, tearful faces of Rudolph and Kitty.  “Don’t cry, youngsters,” he gasped; “be good, and we may get home again yet.”

“Oh, come now,” urged Kitty; “come tell mammy—­mammy’ll whip’em for hurtin’ ’oo; naughty Injins!”

Rudolph, forgetting his misery for an instant, laughed outright at Kitty’s words.  The next instant he shook his head solemnly—­at her—­“No, Kitty, mother couldn’t whip ’em.  But oh, I wish we were home!  I wish we were home!” he cried, giving vent to his terrors again, as he saw a group of red men moving hastily towards them.

After dashing water over Tom’s wounds and laying him upon a bed of deer-skins, the savages seated themselves in a ring, and held a council to decide the fate of the prisoners.  The warriors sat in silence while a great war-club was passed around the circle.  Those who were in favor of burning them alive struck the ground heavily with the weapon before handing it to the next warrior; while those who objected to putting them to death in that manner merely passed it on in silence.

Tom saw all this from where he lay, and he knew its meaning well.  With a sinking heart he heard the heavy thump of the club as each warrior gave his cruel vote, until at last one chief, holding the club in the air, pointed with a meaning gesture—­first at Tom, then at Rudolph and Kitty.  The chiefs responded with a grunt of assent to his inquiry concerning the latter, but shook their heads when their attention was directed to Tom.  Then the noble fellow knew that not his fate, but that of the children was being decided; while they, unconscious little creatures, looked on half amused at what seemed to them some singular game.

“Hi!” whispered Rudolph to Kitty, “didn’t that fellow hit hard, though?—­he’ll beat I guess.”

A moment more and the council was ended.  One of the Indians approached the children and daubed their faces with black; it was a fatal sign, for it proved that the vote had been against them—­Rudolph and Kitty were to be put to death!