doing their part. Beyond was a small clearing, and
coming to the edge of this, he again paused and watched unseen all that
was taking place.

It was a most gruesome spot, this Valley of the Ordeal, and Curly was
by no means the first who had been conducted hither. But no one had
ever come in a more cringing manner than did this latest victim. Some
had shown the craven spirit, and had begged for mercy, while others had
fought and cursed their captors. But Curly was different. Whatever
spark of manhood he possessed deserted him the moment he left the big
house on the hill. He sank upon the ground, and his guards had to drag
him along by main force.

He wept and moaned all the way through the village until the valley was
reached. Then what he beheld struck him dumb with terror, and for a
while he sat crouched upon the ground, staring wild-eyed upon the
Indians as they began their preparations for the Ordeal.

There were about two dozen natives present, and they knew their work
thoroughly, due, no doubt, to considerable experience in the past.
Near the edge of the thicket, on the opposite side of the clearing from
where Weston was standing, was the blackened stump of a big fir tree.
To this Curly was dragged, and several of the men were forced to hold
him up while he was being securely bound with his back to the trunk.
About his feet dry wood was then placed, and half way up his body.
When this had been accomplished, the Indians formed themselves in a
circle about the unhappy man, and began to chant a slow weird dirge in
the native tongue.

Between them and the tree of punishment a small fire was burning, and
the light from this clearly exposed the face of the bound man. His
eyes were dilated with terror, his weak lower jaw had dropped, and his
mouth was wide open. So overcome was he, that he had no strength left
to stand, so his entire weight rested upon his bonds. Never was there
a more pitiable object of abject terror and cowardice. But the Indians
did not seem in the least affected by their captive's misery. With
stern, impassive faces they went on with their chanting, which steadily
increased in weirdness as they continued.

At length they ceased, and at once Sconda seized a burning brand from
the fire and approached the prisoner. Then wild shrieks rent the air
as Curly frantically struggled to free himself. He might as well have
addressed his words to the trees which surrounded him, as to those gri