“Hold on, Great Brother Chief,” said Little Beaver.  “It is the custom of the tribes to release or even to adopt such prisoners as have shown notable fortitude.”

“Showed fortitude enough for six if it’s the same thing as yellin’,” said the Woodpecker, dropping into his own vernacular.

“Let us cut his bonds so that he may escape to his own people.”

“Thar’d be more style to it if we left him thar overnight an’ found next mornin’ he had escaped somehow by himself,” said the older Chief.  The victim noted the improvement in his situation and now promised amid sobs to get them all the Birch bark they wanted—­to do anything, if they would let him go.  He would even steal for them the choicest products of his father’s orchard.

Little Beaver drew his knife and cut bond after bond.

Woodpecker got his bow and arrow, remarking “Ugh, heap fun shoot him runnin’.”

The last bark strip was cut.  Guy needed no urging.  He ran for the boundary fence in silence till he got over; then finding himself safe and unpursued, he rilled the air with threats and execrations.  No part of his statement would do to print here.

After such a harrowing experience most boys would have avoided that swamp, but Guy knew Sam at school as a good-natured fellow.  He began to think he had been unduly scared.  He was impelled by several motives, a burning curiosity being, perhaps the most important.  The result was that one day when the boys came to camp they saw Guy sneaking off.  It was fun to capture him and drag him back.  He was very sullen, and not so noisy as the other time, evidently less scared.  The Chiefs talked of fire and torture and of ducking him in the pond without getting much response.  Then they began to cross-examine the prisoner.  He gave no answer.  Why did he come to the camp?  What was he doing—­stealing? etc.  He only looked sullen.

“Let’s blindfold him and drive a Gyascutus down his back,” said Yan in a hollow voice.

“Good idee,” agreed Sam, not knowing any more than the prisoner what a Gyascutus was.  Then he added, “just as well be merciful.  It’ll put him out o’ pain.”

It is the unknown that terrifies.  The prisoner’s soul was touched again.  His mouth was trembling at the corners.  He was breaking down when Yan followed it up:  “Then why don’t you tell us what you are doing here?”

He blubbered out, “I want to play Injun, too.”

The boys broke down in another way.  They had not had time to paint their faces, so that their expressions were very clear on this occasion.

Then Little Beaver arose and addressed the Council.

“Great Chiefs of the Sanger Nation:  The last time we tortured and burned to death this prisoner, he created quite an impression.  Never before has one of our prisoners shown so many different kinds of gifts.  I vote to receive him into the Tribe.”

The Woodpecker now arose and spoke: