Moffat stood by when this was done, and the action seemed to have given him a thought, for he kicked off his own moccasins, and walking forward to where the shoes lay, he managed to work his feet into them.
Of course his actions were observed by the Indians, but they supposed that nothing was intended by it further than to secure a protection for his feet.
When Crawford, in his torture, was compelled to walk barefooted over the living coals, Girty turned upon his horse and spoke to Moffat:
“Ah, that’s what you put on them shoes of his’n for, is it? Never mind—when we come to toast you, they won’t do you no good.”
One or two more of the prisoners were burned upon the spot, when it was determined to march the others to the Shawnee towns, where hundreds of others might feast themselves with the sight. For this purpose the prisoners were separated, and under the guardianship of either one or two Indians, marched off singly into the wood.
Dr. Knight, the companion of Crawford, as said before, was given in charge of one warrior, from whom he managed to escape in the wood during the march. The others, who had any appearance of stubbornness, or who seemed likely to give trouble, were given over to well-armed savages to watch their motions.
Such was the case with Moffat.
The Shawnee towns were a long distance away, and, as the prisoners were compelled to keep separate by their masters, the march required considerable time.
Moffat was the very last one who started. He rejoiced at this, as it left the coast clear behind him, and Girty had accompanied those in front.
The ranger could see, from the looks the two savages gave him, that they were anxious to ascertain his feelings. If his eye sparkled, or he retained his usual vivacity, their suspicions would be aroused; and he accordingly feigned the deepest despondency and despair.