by ascertaining who could send his tomahawk nearest the body
of their captive without touching him. The first weapon that had been
sent had missed his head, as we have said, by a few inches; but the next
was still closer, and Leland felt the wind of it, as it buried itself in
the solid oak by his cheek. He again closed his eyes, and fervently
prayed that one of their hatchets might sink into his skull instead of
the tree; yet there was not much danger of such an occurrence; for the
savages exercised perfect skill, and rarely failed of sending their
weapons to the very point intended.

[Illustration: The savages were amusing themselves by ascertaining who
could send his tomahawk nearest the body of their captive without
touching him.]

Leland opened his eyes as a tomahawk came fearfully close to his
forehead. He wished to see who had hurled it. He soon saw that it was
the strange Indian, who was approaching to withdraw it. It was buried
deeper than the others; and as the savage placed his hand upon it, it
required considerable of an effort to extricate it. While doing so,
Leland heard the following words whispered by the stranger:

"Don't be scart, George; it's Kent Whiteman that has got his eye upon
you."

These words came near proving fatal to both. They so startled Leland
that he could not prevent himself from betraying somewhat his emotion
and excitement. This was observed by a savage near at hand, who
approached to satisfy himself of the cause. Leland, suspecting his
motive, repeated the action and accompanied it by a shudder, as though
the scene which was being enacted had overcome him. This satisfied the
wily Indian, who retreated and joined the others.

Hope was again awakened in Leland's breast--painful hope, that increased
his doubts and fears--hope that drowned the torture that beset him--hope
that sent the life-blood coursing rapidly and hotly through his veins,
and increased the charms which life had held out to him.

Leland was shortly released from his unenviable situation, and Zeb put
in his place. The negro made no threats or declaration, but submitted to
the trying ordeal without a word. The scenes through which he had passed
had evidently had some effect upon him. He seemed to possess a faint
realization of the danger in which he and his companion were placed. And
yet it could not be said that he was really frightened, for he evinced
no fear of any of his enemies, and his silence had the appeara