And so once more he turned toward the wretched captive, who still kept up his shrieks.
"Ha, ha!" he muttered, "thy time has come. Say thy last prayer."
With which words he stepped quickly forward, struck the match upon his heel, and after holding it for a moment knelt down before the pile of leaves and wood.
"Wow! Wow!" roared Indian. "Stop! Stop! Help! Wo-oo-oo!"
Another of those steam calliope wails.
"He shrieks for mercy!" muttered Bull. "He shrieks in vain. There!"
The last exclamation came as he touched the match to the leaves, stood up and worked off to join his companions.
"Form a ring," he said, "and dance about him as he dies."
The terror of Indian can scarcely be imagined; he was almost on the verge of fainting as the hot choking smoke curled up and around his face. His yells grew louder and increased to a perfect shriek of agony.
"Don't you think we'd better stop it now?" inquired one of the yearlings, more timid than the rest.