Ere long, the savages with their captives, entered the dense grove where Mary had been taken, before they set out with her over the prairie. But it was evidently not their intention to conduct their present prisoners to their villages, and demand a ransom for them. Nor were they prepared to convey them away in the same dignified and comfortable manner, over the snow-clad plains. They anticipated a gratification of a different nature. They had been disappointed in all their attempts to obtain booty from the whites. The maid they had taken had been recaptured, and their chief was in the possession of the enemy. These, to say nothing of the loss of a score of their brethren by the fire-weapons of the white men, stimulated them with unerring precision to compass the destruction of their prisoners. Blood only could satiate their vengeful feelings. And the greater and longer the sufferings of their victims the more exquisite would be the luxury of revenge. And this caused them to smile with positive delight when they witnessed the painful terrors of poor Joe. When they reached their place of encampment, which was in the midst of a cluster of small slim trees that encircled an old spreading oak of huge dimensions, the savages made their prisoners stand with their backs against two saplings that grew some fifteen paces apart. They were compelled to face each other, that they might witness every thing that transpired. Their arms were bound round the trees behind them, and a cord was likewise passed round their legs to confine them more securely. The savages then seemed to consult about the manner of despatching them. The oldest and most experienced, by his hasty gestures and impatient replies, appeared to insist on their instantaneous death. And from his frequent glances northward, through the trees, he doubtless feared some interruption, or dreaded the arrival of an enemy that might inflict an ample retaliation. During a long pause, while the Indians seemed to hesitate, and the old crafty savage drew his steel tomahawk from his belt, Sneak sighed deeply, and said, in rather mournful tones— “The jig’s up with us, Joe. If I was only loose seven seconds, you wouldn’t ketch me dying like a coon here agin a tree.” Joe made no other response than a blubbering sound, while the tears ran down and dropped briskly from his chin. [Illustration: Joe and Sneak in difficulty.] The savages gave vent to a burst of laughter when they beheld the agony of fear that possessed their captive. The three that were in favour of the slow torture now turned a deaf ear to the old warrior, and advanced to Joe. They held the palms of their hands under his chin, and caught the tears as they fell. They then stroked his head gently, and appeared to sympathize with the sufferer.