Elsie and Her Namesakes

by Martha Finley

"I suppose he deserved it, as he had stolen the horses," remarked Elsie.

"Yes," replied her father, "he had no more right to steal from the Indians than from white people, and his sin found him out."

"Did they kill him, papa?" asked Ned.

"No; they kicked and cuffed him as much as they cared to, then made him lie down upon his back and stretch his arms to their full length, passed a stout stick across his breast and fastened his wrists to each extremity of it by thongs of buffalo-hide. Then they drove stakes into the ground near his feet and fastened them in the same way. After that they tied a halter round his neck and fastened it to a sapling growing near. Lastly they passed a strong rope under his body, wound it several times round his arms at the elbows, so lashing them to the stick which lay across his breast, and to which his wrists were fastened; all this in a manner that was peculiarly painful. He could not move at all, either feet, arms or head, and was kept in that position till the next morning. Then, as they wanted to go back to the spot from which they had come, they unfastened him, put him on the back of a wild, unbroken colt, one of those he had stolen, lashed him by the feet to it and tied his hands behind him. And so he was driven into the cruel captivity, a captivity which has been spoken of as being as singular and remarkable in other respects as any in the whole history of Indian warfare upon this continent.

"Kenton refused with strange infatuation to adopt proper measures for his safety while he might have done so. With strange obstinacy he remained on the Ohio shore until flight became useless. He was often at one hour tantalized with a prospect of safety and the next plunged into the deepest despair. Eight times he had to run the gauntlet, three times he was tied to a stake and thought himself about to suffer a terrible death. Any sentence passed upon him by one council, whether to give him mercy or death, would presently be reversed by another. Whenever Providence raised up a friend in his favor, some enemy immediately followed, unexpectedly interposed and turned his glimpse of sunshine into deeper darkness than ever. For three weeks he was in that manner see-sawing between life and death."

"And did they kill him at last, papa?" asked Ned.

"No," replied the captain. "An Indian agent of the name of Drewyer, who was anxious to gain intelligence for the British commander at Detroit in regard to the strength and condition of the settlements in Kentucky, got Kenton free from the Indians just as for the fourth time they were about to bind him to a stake and burn him. He (Drewyer) did not get anything of importance out of Kenton, who was three weeks later sent a prisoner to Detroit, from which place he made his escape in about eight months; then he went back to Kentucky. He was very brave, a valuable scout, a hardy woodsman, a good Indian fighter. He performed many daring feats as the friend and companion of Daniel Boone, once saving his life in a conflict with the Indians."

"Had not Logan something to do with Kenton's rescue by that Canadian trader Drewyer?" asked Harold, who had been listening with interest to the captain's story.