These terrible sufferings, instead of satisfying the Indians, only stimulated them to invent more ingenious tortures. Their cruelty was not more astonishing than the fortitude of the victim. He ran the gauntlet thirteen times; he was exposed to insult, privation, and injury of every kind: sometimes he was tied, sometimes beaten. At others, he was pinched, dragged on the ground, or deprived for long periods of sleep. Then, amid jeers and yells, he was marched from village to village, so that all might be entertained with his sufferings. Yet, amid each torture, he never failed to improve an opportunity favorable for escaping, and in one instance would have effected it, but for some Indians whom he accidentally met returning to the village. Finally it was resolved to burn him at Lower Sandusky. The procession, bearing the victim to the stake, passed by the cabin of Simon Girty, whose name is a counterpart to that of Brandt, in the annals of Pennsylvania. This man had just returned from an unsuccessful expedition to the frontier of that state, burning, of course, with disappointment, and a thirst for revenge. Hearing that a white prisoner was being carried to the torture, he rushed out, threw Butler down, and began to beat him.
The reader will not be apt to imagine that this was in any way favorable to Butler's escape; yet it was so. He instantly recognised in the fierce assailant a companion of early days, and as such made himself known. The heart of the savage relented. He raised up his old friend, promised to use his influence for him, summoned a council, and persuaded the Indians to resign Butler to him. Taking the unfortunate man home, he fed and nursed him until he began to recover. But five days had scarcely expired, when the Indians relented, seizing their victim, and marched him to be burned at Lower Sandusky. By a surprising coincidence, he here met the Indian agent from Detroit, who interceded and saved him. He was taken to that town, paroled by the governor, and subsequently escaped through the woods to Kentucky.
Robert and Samuel M'Afee.
Early in May, 1781, M'Afee's station, in the neighborhood of Harrodsburg, Kentucky, was alarmed by the approach of Indians. On the morning of the 9th, Samuel M'Afee, accompanied by another man, left the fort in order to visit a small plantation in the neighborhood, and at the distance of three hundred yards from the gate, they were fired upon by a party of Indians in ambush. The man who, accompanied him instantly fell. An Indian rushed up, dropped his rifle, scalped the man, and holding up the bleeding trophy, gave a yell of delight.
M'Afee attempted to regain the fort. While running for that purpose, he found himself suddenly intercepted by an Indian, who, springing out of the canebrake, placed himself directly in his path. Each glared upon the other for an instant, in silence, and both raising their guns at the moment, pulled the triggers together. The Indian's rifle snapped, while M'Afee's ball passed directly through his brain. Having no time to reload his gun, he sprung over the body of his antagonist, and continued his flight to the fort. When within one hundred yards of the gate, he was met by his two brothers, Robert and James, who at the report of the guns, had hurried out to the assistance of their brother. Samuel hastily informed them of their danger, and exhorted them to return. James readily complied, but Robert, declared that he must have a view of the dead Indian. He ran on for that purpose, and having enjoyed the spectacle, was returning, when he saw five or six Indians between him and the fort, evidently bent on taking him alive. All his activity and presence of mind was put in request. He ran from tree to tree, endeavoring to turn their flank, and reach one of the gates, and after a variety of turns and doublings, he found himself pressed by only one Indian. M'Afee turned upon his pursuer, and compelled him to take shelter behind a tree. Both stood still for a moment—M'Afee having his gun cocked, and the sight fixed where he supposed the Indian would thrust out his head in order to have a view of his antagonist. After waiting a few seconds, the Indian exposed a part of his head to take sight, when M'Afee fired, and the Indian fell. While turning, to continue the flight, he was fired on by a party of six, which compelled him again to tree. But scarcely had he done so, when he received the fire of three more enemies which made the bark and dust fly about him. Finding his post dangerous, he ran for the fort, which he reached in safety, to the inexpressible joy of his brothers, who had despaired of his return.
A few days' Sport in Chinese Tartary.
Much may have been said, but little has been written, of the yet but very partially explored part of the world between China and the Himayla chain. Moorcroft and Gerard, some thirty years ago, visited some parts bordering on the extreme north-west of the British possessions in India. Fraser, a few years later, penetrated probably those parts of it adjoining the central hill sanatoriums of Simla and Almorah, and he, like his predecessors, was stopped by the jealous government and its inhabitants. Previous to entering Chinese Tartary from British India, the traveller has to cross certain of the passes in the great snowy range, some of them varying in height from sixteen to eighteen thousand feet above the level of the sea.
The Barinda, one of the most frequented and best known of these passes, is variously estimated at from seventeen to eighteen thousand feet. The months of June, July, and August are generally considered the best months for crossing.
The scenery in and around these passes is of the most sublime description. As I should assuredly fail, however, in describing it, I must content myself with a narration of some personal adventures which befel me in an attempt to carry into effect a long cherished determination to make the acquaintance of the seeta bhaloo (white bear) and the burul, (white sheep,) found only in these regions. By the route I took, seventeen marches brought me to the snow. Here our "roughing" commenced, the Peharrees, or hill men, of our side of the snow, having a most religious horror of the great snowy range. The air there they declare is charged with "bis" (poison,) and this is the only way they can in their original way account for the painful and distressing effects which the rarefied air in those elevations produces on the human frame. The first intimation we have that we are far above the altitude of comfort, is a dull, heavy pain on the shoulders, as if you were carrying a load above your capacity; then a very painful sensation on the forehead, as if it had been bandaged unpleasantly tight, accompanied by a burning sensation of the eyes and nose, followed by an involuntary bleeding of the latter.
This last symptom of the effects of high rarefaction, is, to an Englishman, at least it was to us, always a great relief. It operates differently upon the natives; they become only more alarmed and helpless, and, unless hurried through the passes very expeditiously, invariably perish. On my first trip, I left two unfortunate hill men in the Sogla Pass. Two more would have perished, had not I taken one wheelbarrow fashion, by the legs, and dragged him after me, although very much distressed myself, until we had descended sufficiently to rest with safety. My head man, Jye Sing, by my direction, took the other man, and both were saved.