“On the morrow we shall see of what stuff pale-faced chiefs are made.”

This was all, but to the quick understanding of the captive boy it meant everything.  He knew at once that his turn had come, and that with the light of another day he would be led forth, and by his sufferings afford a brief amusement to a horde of yelling savages.

Could he endure it?  Would his strength bear him bravely to the bitter end?  Or would he too break down and cry out as he had heard the others?  The agony of such thoughts was too great for the poor friendless lad, and, throwing himself face downward upon the ground, he burst into bitter tears.

How long he lay thus he knew not.  At last, after passing what seemed like hours of anguish, he rose slowly to his knees and poured forth his whole soul in prayer to One who had also been tortured, and knew the agony that preceded such sufferings.  His prayer was for deliverance; or if that might not be, then for His presence to support and strengthen him in the hour of trial.

Having thus resigned all care of his own affairs, and placed them with the only One who could bring him peace and strength, the boy felt greatly comforted, and as though he should bear bravely whatever tortures might be devised for him.

His cheerfulness astonished the guard who brought in his supper of sof-ka (soup) and koonti-katki (starch-root), and he thought within himself, “He cannot know what awaits him on the morrow; but he will wear a different face when he sees the stake.”

Rene had hardly finished eating with a good appetite his rather scanty meal, when the guard again entered and loosened his bonds, and he was led forth from the hut for the first time since his arrival in the village.  Guarded by a tall warrior on either side, he was forced to head a sort of triumphal procession, and, accompanied by the sound of the rattles and the kas-a-lal-ki, to march through and around the village, to be gazed at and taunted by its entire population.

The lad walked with a firm tread, in spite of his painfully swollen ankles, that had been cruelly bound for so long a time that they now hardly supported him.  His head was proudly lifted, and his youthful countenance bore so brave and fearless a look that all who saw him marvelled at it.  It also caused them great joy, for they said one to another, “He is so brave that the tortures must be many and long before he will cry out, and we shall have rare sport with him on the morrow.”

As this noisy procession passed on that side of the village nearest the end of the trail that led away from the island through the swamp, it attracted the attention of the warrior who was there on guard.  So great was his curiosity to see what was going on that he allowed it to carry him a few yards from his post to a point where he could obtain a better view.

While he thus stood, neglecting his duty for a moment and with his back turned to the trail, three dark figures, hardly distinguishable from the twilight shadows, glided noiselessly and swiftly from it.  An instant later they had vanished in the little thicket from which E-chee had flung his billet of wood into the water on the night of his escape from the Seminoles.