Presently the bridge was cleared of
all but a double line of what appeared to be women, armed
with war-clubs and tomahawks. Along the line were now
seen to pass, in slow succession, the prisoners that had
previously been observed. At each step they took (and it
was evident they had been compelled to run the gauntlet),
a blow was inflicted by some one or other of the line,
until the wretched victims were successively despatched.
A loud yell from the warriors, who, although hidden from
view by the intervening orchards, were evidently merely
spectators in the bloody drama, announced each death.
These yells were repeated, at intervals, to about the
number of thirty, when, suddenly, the bridge was again
deserted as before.
After the lapse of a minute, the tall figure of a warrior
was seen to advance, holding a female in his arms. No
one could mistake, even at that distance, the gigantic
proportions of Wacousta,--as he stood in the extreme
centre of the bridge, in imposing relief against the
flood that glittered like a sea of glass beyond. From
his chest there now burst a single yell; but, although
audible, it was fainter than any remembered ever to have
been heard from him by the garrison.
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