There is scarcely a method of inflicting pain, that comes within, the compass of their means, that the North American Indians have not essayed on their enemies.  When the infernal ingenuity that is exercised on these occasions fails of its effect, the captives themselves have been heard to suggest other means of torturing that they have known practised successfully by their own people.  There is often a strange strife between the tormentors and the tormented; the one to manifest skill in inflicting pain, and the other to manifest fortitude in enduring it.  As has just been said, quite as much renown is often acquired by the warrior, in setting all the devices of his conquerors at defiance, while subject to their hellish attempts, as in deeds of arms.  It might be more true to say that such was the practice among the Indians, than to say, at the present time, that such is; for it is certain that civilization in its approaches, while it has in many particulars even degraded the red man, has had a silent effect in changing and mitigating many of his fiercer customs—­this, perhaps, among the rest.  It is probable that the more distant tribes still resort to all these ancient usages; but it is both hoped and believed that those nearer to the whites do not.

The “torture by saplings” is one of those modes of inflicting pain that would naturally suggest themselves to savages.  Young trees that do not stand far apart are trimmed of their branches, and brought nearer to each other by bending their bodies; the victim is then attached to both trunks, sometimes by his extended arms, at others by his legs, or by whatever part of the frame cruelty can suggest, when the saplings are released, and permitted to resume their upright positions.  Of course, the sufferer is lifted from the earth, and hangs suspended by his limbs, with a strain on them that soon produces the most intense anguish.  The celebrated punishment of the “knout” partakes a good deal of this same character of suffering.  Bough of the Oak now approached the corporal, to let him know how high an honor was in reserve for him.

“Brother,” said this ambitious orator, “you are a brave warrior.  You have done well.  Not only have you killed one of our chiefs, but you have wounded several of our young men.  No one but a brave could have done this.  You have forced us to bind you, lest you might kill some more.  It is not often that captives do this.  Your courage has caused us to consult how we might best torture you, in a way most to manifest your manhood.  After talking together, the chiefs have decided that a man of your firmness ought to be hung between two young trees.  We have found the trees, and have cut off their branches.  You can see them.  If they were a little larger their force would be greater, and they would give you more pain—­would be more worthy of you; but these are the largest saplings we could find.  Had there been any larger, we would have let you have them.  We wish to do you honor, for you are a bold warrior, and worthy to be well tormented.