They bound him to a wild
horse and chased the horse through the forest until their captive's face
was torn and bleeding from the lashing of the branches; they staked him
down at night so that he could not move hand or foot, and when they
reached their town, the whole population turned out to make him run the
gauntlet. The Indians formed in a double line, about six feet apart,
each armed with a heavy club, and Kenton was forced to run between them.
He had not gone far when he saw ahead of him an Indian with drawn knife,
prepared to plunge it into him as he passed. By a mighty effort, he
broke through the line, but was soon recaptured, lashed with whips,
pelted with stones, branded with red-hot irons, and condemned to be
burnt at the stake.
But before killing him, the Indians concluded to lend him to other towns
to have some sport with, so he was taken from town to town, compelled to
run the gauntlet at each one, and subjected to a variegated list of
tortures. Three or four times, he was tied to a stake for the final
execution, but each time the Indians decided to wait a while longer.
Finally, an Englishman got the Indians to consent to send Kenton for a
visit to Detroit, and he spent the winter there. Then, with two other
captives, and with the help of a kind-hearted Irish woman, he managed to
escape, and made his way back to Kentucky--over four hundred miles
through the Indian country, narrowly escaping death a hundred times--in
thirty-three days.
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