His speech irritated the crowd:—they abused him as a witch, and drawing nearer to him, sat fire to the pile. The fire, at first, burnt slowly, but soon after increasing, it rolled upwards, in a sheet of dense red flame. You might now hear his skin crack and parch, and yet he uttered no murmur or complaint; but, opening a small hymn book, began to sing and pray, with a loud voice. The Indians who surrounded him, danced about with savage glee,—made jocose speeches when his muscles twitched, from the action of the fire, and taunted and reviled him. Yet he quailed not, but sung and prayed, as though he were freed from all bodily suffering. The fire still increased, and a judgment from heaven seemed suddenly to have passed over his persecutors, so silent at once became that noisy rabble. Not a sound was now heard, but the cracking of the fire, or the dropping of blood, as trickling from some fresh wound, it fell upon a burning coal, causing a frying or hissing sound. All gazed in wonder, and each one sorrowed for the part he had borne, when he beheld the firmness of the dying man. His chest still heaved, but he triumphed over nature, for no sound indicated the anguish he suffered. A few moments more elapsed and a skeleton lay doubled up at the foot of the stake, the bones of the right hand, clutching with a strong gripe, a small black smoking substance,—it was the hymn book; and the spirit of Billy Patterson had returned to its God.
For some few moments there was silence, and contrition seemed to have entered their hearts. But the Prophet discovering it, called them together and harangued them. He finished speaking, contrition disappeared, and all were joyous; not only joyous, but happy, and inclined to mirth and festivity. Feasting and dancing were at once resorted to, and they indulged in all the unrestrained freedom of wild revelry:—surrounding alternately the body of Teteboxti, and the skeleton of Billy Patterson, they performed various dances, and sung hymns of joy, and ever and anon they laughed until their sides shook, at the different positions in which they placed the body and the skeleton, at one moment twining its arms around the body, at another causing it to sit erect at a short distance, and look as if it was gazing on the body of Teteboxti from sightless sockets.
The night was now wearing away, the middle watch was at hand, and the Prophet prepared to close the scene. His followers were ripe for any act, so he called them together, and harked them on in pursuit of Leather-lips. The camp was soon cleared, their baggage slung, and with the Prophet all were off in pursuit, leaving their present camp unoccupied save by the unburied body of Teteboxti, which remained sitting in an upright position, and the skeleton of Billy Patterson, which was left hanging upon the fork of a tree.
It was early the next morning when the crowd was seen coursing their way through a small field, to a cabin where resided Leather-lips, whose Indian appellation was Shateyaronrah. He was surrounded by his family, and several friends were also casually present, among whom were two white men. Leather-lips was at this time aged sixty-three, and had always supported the most exemplary life. He had often mingled in battle, and had won for himself the reputation of a brave man. But unfortunately for himself his signature was attached to the famous treaty of Greenville, and he had ever manifested a partiality for the Americans as opposed to the English. Notwithstanding this, he was conspicuous among the red men far and wide, and wielded great influence.
When Elkswatawa assumed to himself the character of a Prophet, and announced that he was commissioned by the Most High to preach the word to the red men, to change their condition, increase their possessions, and make them sole masters of the land, Leather-lips denounced him as an impostor, and urged the Indians not to place full credence in his promises. He had been silently watching the character of the Prophet while he was struggling for power, and spared no endeavour to thwart his views. He was acquainted with the executions which had already taken place on account of pretended witchcraft, and when he heard the shouts of the band which was hurrying on, and saw their numbers, he knew but too well, the pack which was unkennelled against him. But hark! they are rushing on, and first among the foremost, comes his brother. They arrive, they seize, and prepare to bind him.
“No,” cries he, “let me be free, I know your purpose, and am ready to obey.”
“Haste then;” cried Elkswatawa, “witch, we thirst for blood.”
“Witch!” repeated Leather-lips, and he looked him in the face, and entered his wigwam. Then returning to the door he addressed the crowd, and begged them to spare his life. His entreaty was answered with scorn, and they cried for blood. All hope was now gone, and he re-entered his wigwam, to prepare for his fate, while his executioners commenced digging his grave at the sill of his door. Having dressed himself in his best war clothes, and partaken of a hasty meal of venison, he came out from his cabin calm and dignified, and knelt upon the brink of his grave. His executioners then stepped forward, one of whom was his own brother, and kneeling before him, prayed to the Great Spirit in his behalf. The Indians were all silent, and the prayers being over, they withdrew to a short distance, and seated themselves on the ground. Leather-lips then bent over his grave, rested his face upon his hands and his hands upon his knees. The executioners stepped forward, performed their duty, and the body of Leather-lips rolled into its grave. The Indians then huddled around it, and Elkswatawa calling the attention of the two whites, pointed to the body. “See,” said he, as the chest still heaved, “see how hard he dies; he is a witch, he is a witch.” All were satisfied, and they shovelled the fresh earth over the dying Leather-lips, and left to his last sleep, one who, an hour before, was cultivating his little field.