victim on
whom to wreak their vengeance. With the savage cruelty of their race,
his tormentors had doomed him, not to sudden death, which would have
been welcome to the miserable wretch, but to a slow and lingering
torture.

It would be too painful to dwell long upon the nature of the tortures
thus inflicted upon their victims. With all their coarseness and
rudeness of manner and life, the Indians had arrived at a refinement and
skill in cruelty which the persecutors of the reformers in Europe might
envy, but to which they had never attained. Among these, tearing the
nails from the hands and feet, knocking out the teeth with a club,
lacerating the flesh with rough, dull muscle and oyster-shells,
inserting sharp splinters into the wounded flesh, and then firing them
until the unhappy being is gradually roasted to death--these were among
the tortures more frequently inflicted. From the threats and
preparations of his captors, old Giles had reason to apprehend that the
worst of these tortures he would soon be called upon to endure.

There is, thank God, a period, when the burdens of this life become so
grievous, that the prayer of the fabled faggot-binder may rise sincerely
on the lips, and when death would indeed be a welcome friend--when it is
even soothing to reflect that,

"We bear our heavy burdens but a journey,
Till death unloads us."

Such was the period at which the wretched negro had now arrived. He
listened, therefore, with patient composure to the fierce, threatening
language of the warriors, which his former association with Manteo
enabled him, when aided by their wild gesticulation, to comprehend. But
it was far from the intention of the Indians to release him yet from his
terrible existence. One of the braves approaching the poor helpless
wretch with a small cord of catgut, such as was used by them for
bow-strings, prepared to bind it tightly around his thumb, while the
others gathering around in a circle waved their war-clubs high in air to
inflict the painful bastinado. When old Giles saw the Indian approach,
and fully comprehended his design, his heart sank within him at this new
instrument of torture, and in despairing accents he groaned--

"Kill me, kill me, but for de Lord's sake, massa, don't put dat horrid
thing on de poor old nigga."

Regardless of his cries, the powerful Indian adjusted the cord, and with
might and main drew it so tightly around the thumb that it entered the
flesh e