, the prisoner, followed
by two Indian warriors. In this manner they marched down the creek, and
then down the Susquehanna, to a place near where the Schenevus mingles
with and loses its name in the waters of the Susquehanna. Here they
encamped for the night, and after starting their camp-fire in a thicket
of hemlocks, they all four eat their supper from the venison cooked by
Mayall in the morning. Then, binding their prisoner's hands behind him,
and tying his feet firmly together, they laid down to sleep, with an
Indian on each side and the remaining one to keep guard. As soon as the
blaze of the fire died away, Mayall tried to disengage his hands, which
began to pain him cruelly, but all in vain. If he could once free
himself, he could reach his home before the sun could rise again, and
once more see his wife and children; but six miles of forest parted them
at this time, on a straight line. Oh, the misery of being dragged from
home! And who could foretell his fate? Was he to wear the bearskin
moccasin, and be tied to the fatal stake and burned for Indians' sport,
and his poor family left to starve and perish amid the frosts of a long,
dreary winter? He dreamed of the red war-post, the terrific dance of the
red man round his burning victim, and all the refined torture of the
savage. Morning broke his dreams; the sun again kissed the mountain-top.
Mayall was unbound--his mind became calm, his resolution was formed. It
was the last night that he was to endure the horrors of being bound.
Little did the Indians know the danger of driving to desperation so
terrible a foe, who was perfectly acquainted with the forest many
leagues around them. The Indian warriors soon resumed their march in the
same order of the previous day, but with greater haste. They moved
forward rapidly, as if they feared an enemy in the rear. Mayall scanned
every movement with the eye of the vulture, for a chance to deal the
deadly blow upon his captors. The day seemed to wear away without an
opportunity for the deadly combat, until they halted at a ford above
where the village of Unadilla now stands. Here they held a parley, as
the stream was swollen and rapid. Mayall looked on in sullen silence, as
he began to feel the demon rise. He said he soon felt the courage of a
lion, and the strength of a Samson before he had trifled with Delilah.

They hesitated for a short time over the danger. The foremost warrior
finally ventured into the stream with his r