"Stand back," said Willimack. "Let the voice of a chief speak terror to the ears of his enemy before he dies. I am Willimack, chief of the Wyandot, and I am ashamed to be at the death of a child. I see water in your eyes, and I know you are weeping in your heart. You fear the pain which will come when the flames curl and the smoke rolls about you. Let the chief of the Wyandots speak. You know that you refused me the shelter of your dwelling when I came to it. The yellow-haired hunter struck me down and bound me, but I saw that the Bright Eyes looked sadly upon the disgrace of a chief. Good; the Bright Eyes shall make the fire bright in the lodge of Willimack."
Bright Eyes was the Indian name given to Madge by those who, from time to time, visited the cabin of the Floyds.
"Oh, red hound!" shrieked Floyd. "Oh, if I had dreamed half the villainy you had in your black heart, I would have killed you as you sat by my fire."
"The heart of a chief is not open to the eyes of a dull pale-face," replied Willimack, scornfully. "The Bright Eyes is very beautiful. Her voice is like the song of the birds when the summer sun is high. Floyd would have made a nest for her that she should sing for him alone; but Willimack laughs, for he knows that she can only sing in his lodge."
Floyd struggled manfully to break his bonds, glaring furiously at the savage who knelt at his feet, and, striking a flint and steel, began to kindle the flame. It burned slowly, for the leaves were damp. Again and again it smoldered and went out, but the Indian persevered until a little jet of flame leaped up. This he fed, leaf after leaf, until he had a little fire burning, apart from the pile, about the person of the young soldier. He took savage delight in prolonging the scene, and the Indians, understanding his motive, yelled in concert and danced wildly about the tree.
Willimack now took up a lighted brand, and with it touched the person of the prisoner in various places, laughing in demoniac glee when he shrunk from the contact. Others took the hint and followed the same amusement for some time, the young man bearing it bravely. They at length lit the pile, and the flames began to creep up about his person, and a thick smoke arose. He was dimly able to see through the smoke and flame, that the Indians were dancing and shouting all around, when a new cry arose, and he saw the Indians break and run in every direction, evidently in the greatest dread. Then the figure of the being known as the Skeleton Scout bounded into the open space. Seeing him closely, the young man could conceive of nothing more horrible than the ghastly head, blazing eyes, and tremendous hight of this strange being. "Oonah! Oonah!" was the cry of the Indians as they fled, and the next moment the brands were scattered and the young man was free!
"Stand here until you hear the loon-cry, and then make for the river, where your friends are waiting. Remember the Skeleton Scout!"
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