a
tree in such a manner that he could not possibly free himself.

The mode of securing him was suggested by Stanfield, the backwoodsman:
it was simple and safe. A tree was chosen, whose trunk was large enough
to fill the embrace of the Indian, so that the ends of his fingers just
met when his arms were drawn to their full stretch around it. Upon his
wrists, thongs of raw hide were firmly looped, and then knotted
together. His ankles were also bound by similar cords--the ends of
which were staked, so as to hinder him from worming around the tree, and
perchance wearing off his thongs, or chafing them, so that they might
break.

The ligature was perfect; the most expert jail-breaker could not have
freed himself from such a fastening.

It was our intention to leave him thus, and _perhaps_ set him free upon
our return, if we should return by that way--a doubtful hypothesis.

I thought not at the time of the cruelty we were committing. We had
spared the Indian's life--a mercy at the moment--and I was too much
concerned about the future of others, to waste reflection on his.

We had taken the precaution to leave him at some distance from the place
of his capture; others of his party might come after, and discover him,
soon enough to interfere with our plans. His prison had been chosen far
off in the depth of the woods; even his shouts could not have been heard
by any one passing along the trail.

He was not to be left entirely alone: a horse was to be his companion--
not his own--for one of the rangers had fancied an exchange.
Stanfield--not well mounted--had proposed a "swop," as he jocosely
termed it, to which the savage had no alternative but consent; and the
Kentuckian, having "hitched" his worn-out nag to a tree, led off the
skew-bald mustang in triumph, declaring that he was now "squar wi' the
Indyens." Stanfield would have liked it better had the "swop" been made
with the renegade who had robbed him.

We were about to leave the place and move on, when a bright idea
suddenly came into my head: it occurred to me that I too might effect a
profitable exchange with our new-made captive--a swop, not of horses,
but of men--in short, an exchange of persons--of identities! In truth,
a bright idea it was, and one that promised well.

I have said that I had already conceived a plan for the rescue of my
betrothed: I had done so during the night; and all along the route, in
my mind I had been maturing it. The incid