The Prophet afterward having formed a ring, called them to order, and in the centre stood those who were already doomed to death. Then came on the mockery of a trial;—it lasted for a moment;—it was over, and the victims were ordered to the stake. Among some of the red men there now seemed a little wavering of purpose, and but for the excitement under which they were labouring, they must have relented, when they saw dragged to the stake two of their own citizens, worn with years, and covered with honours. Teteboxti had ever supported the most exemplary life; he was even famed for his wisdom and his many virtues, and the breath of suspicion had never as yet been blown against him. In the language of one who described the scenes of that day, “his head had been bleached by more than eighty winters,” and he now stood at the stake, trembling with age, and leaning on his staff for support, while they prepared to fasten the strings around him. Compassion now for a moment appeared to gleam forth, for the Prophet advancing to Teteboxti, told him if he would deliver up his medicine bag, and confess himself a witch, his life should be spared. The strength of the old man's mind had departed, and age had imbued him with the weakness of a child. He consented, and designated a spot where he said his medicine bag was concealed. He was released, and the crowd led him to the place he had mentioned;—yet his little bag, which in the eyes of the Indians, was all powerful, for it was filled, as they supposed, with roots and crooked pins, and such other substances as were necessary for a witch to work his incantations with, was no where to be found. The old man was frightened, and gasped for breath, and named another place. They led him there, and searched, yet nothing could they find. He still named another place, and begged them to lead him thither, but it was apparent that procrastination was his only object, and they dragged him away to the stake, with tears flowing in a stream down his face as they urged him along. He was bound, and the fire kindled,—a light current of air which swept along, fanned the fire into a flame, and at the same time parting the white hair of Teteboxti, caused it to float off in the wind. At this moment, a young warrior, who was near, moved by compassion, sank his tomahawk into his head:—he fell, quivering upon the ground, and as the yet warm reeking weapon was returned to its sheath, a shudder passed over the features of Elkswatawa.