As nearly as the unhappy men could understand, there was a long, angry interview between Sir John, Thayendanega, and some of the British officers before the matter was settled, and then they were delivered up to the Indians, even the Tories shutting their ears to the prayers for mercy. It was not necessary I should hear what he had to say about the treatment the deserters received in the Indian encampment prior to being led out to the stake. I knew full well what suffering must have been theirs before the hour arrived when all was to be ended. I had had some slight experience as a prisoner in the power of the savages, and even then could not listen to another's story of similar treatment without severe mental pain. The three who were reserved for the second evening's entertainment suffered nearly all the agonies of death when their comrades were tortured, for the Indians forced them to be present as spectators, and it is little wonder they were half-dead with fear when their turn came to afford amusement for those who found their greatest delight in listening to screams of agony from helpless victims. The first shot from the fort killed two of the deserters outright and overturned the post to which Cox was being bound. He could not tell very much about the execution done by the balls, for at first he believed it was some new form of torture which the savages had invented; but when the painted crew fled across the river in abject fear, leaving him comparatively at liberty, he began to understand that the comrades whom he had wickedly wronged were doing what they could to aid him. He declared that there were no less than twenty dead savages lying nearabout the place when he started for the fort, while as many more, badly wounded, were putting forth every effort at escaping beyond range of our gun. All this was repeated to me by Sergeant Corney, who had heard it from Reuben Cox himself, and when he was come to an end of the recital I asked: "Now that he is here, an' likely to live, what will be done with him?" "That's what I can't say, lad, an' I'm of the belief that it puzzles the commandant not a little. Desertion in the face of an enemy is punishable by death the world over, an' rightly, for a soldier can commit no greater crime; but what about shootin' a man who has already suffered a dozen deaths?" I soon came to know that the question I had asked of the sergeant was being discussed by all the garrison, many of the men declaring that Reuben Cox deserved to be treated as any other deserter, while a large number claimed that the sufferings he had endured should be considered as having atoned for the crime. The arguments became so warm that it was evident Colonel Gansevoort would be forced to come to some decision regarding the matter, and so he did on this same day when we were called out on the parade-ground, being formed in a hollow square.