Outdoor Life and Indian Stories / Making open air life attractive to young Americans by telling them all about woodcraft, signs and signaling, the stars, fishing, camping, camp cooking, how to tie knots and how to make fire without matches, and many other fascinating open air pursuits. Also, stories of noted hunters and scouts, great indians and warriors, including Daniel Boone, Kit Carson, General Custer, Pontiac, Tecumseh, King Philip, Black Hawk, Brandt, Sitting Bull, and a host of others whose names are famous; all of them true and interesting

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

Behind these rows of exultant redskins were grouped the other members of the tribe, to the extent of several hundred. Barbarous as were the warriors, the squaws were worse, if that was possible, and the dancing children were as eager as their elders to see the white man pounded to death.

One of the Delawares took Murphy by the arm and led him to the head of the line. He limped so heavily that he barely touched the ground with the tip of one foot. He was seen to shut his lips and shake his head, as if to force back his suffering and to brace himself for the trial before him. But he did not utter a word; it was useless.

At the head of the line on his right, was stationed a warrior whom he recognized as one of his captors and his chief persecutor. He was large and inclined to corpulency, but his painted face was ugly to the last degree. He had struck the captive on the way to the village, and had subjected him to many indignities. Now he took a place which gave him the first chance to reach the helpless prisoner, and there can be no doubt that he meant to leave no work to be done by the others in the lines.

Murphy looked down the long path, and, like many situations of danger, spat on his palms and rubbed them together, as if the action gave more nerve and strength to him. All were waiting, shifting about and toying with their clubs, impatient for the amusement to open. Buckongahelas stood several rods to the rear of one of the lines, well beyond it, watching proceedings. He did not add to the turmoil, but with his arms folded over his massive chest, studied the prisoner, regarding whom he held a singular suspicion which he kept to himself.

Suddenly Murphy gathered his energies for the test. He leaned forward with his left foot advanced, and most of his weight resting on it, after the manner of the professional runner. This largely relieved the other ankle of the weight of his body. With his arms crooked at the elbows and held close to his sides, he suddenly lowered his head and shot forward as if propelled from a cannon.

The instant he did so, the suspicion of Buckongahelas became certainty. All trace of lameness vanished! Both legs were as sound as ever, and had been from the first.

But Hercules himself could not have run the length of those lines, between the rows of tormentors, and Murphy had never a thought of trying anything of the kind. With a quick turn to the right, and, when going at the height of his great speed, the top of his head struck his chief tormentor in the stomach, with an impact like that of a catapult. The life was almost knocked from his body, as he went over on his back, his moccasins kicking the air. Like a cat, Murphy leaped over the form, and with a burst of his wonderful fleetness, dashed for the nearest point in the woods.

This took him towards the spot where Buckongahelas was standing. The chief could have headed him off without trouble, but, instead of doing so, he stepped aside to make way for him. The confusion caused by the captive's break for freedom gave him the very chance needed. Among the spectators were many who had guns in their hands and several fired wildly at the fugitive, but the majority of the men who formed the double line, sped after him, with a view of recapture, and the carrying out of their amusement so suddenly interrupted by his escape.

In a few seconds, Murphy was among the trees and going with the speed of the wind. It was impossible to gain a fair shot at him, when it was seen that he was rapidly increasing the distance between him and his pursuers. Sooner than would be supposed, he was beyond danger, and the next day rejoined his friends.

Some years later, when peace had come to the frontier, Murphy and Buckongahelas met at one of the forts, and, in the course of their talk, the incident just told was recalled. Both laughed over the remembrance, and the chief told the scout that he suspected from the first that his lameness was a pretence, and he thought it strange that none of the warriors shared his belief.