Chapter X: The Tortures of the Medicine

With the white Medicine completely in his power and at his mercy, the red one determined to make him reveal every secret charm and mystery--every trick of juggling that he could possibly turn to account to extend his influence over the tribe.

To do this he must be certain that no one should be any the wiser--that there was no spy upon his movements, and so he gave public notice that the Manitou would be very angry with any one who even visited the vicinity where he was confined.

In this respect at least he was obeyed, for there was no longer any interest taken in his fate, and the more especially as they believed the scout was dead, and the white girl had stolen away, and most likely perished in the wilderness.

With matters thus arranged it was easy for him to carry out his purposes without danger of molestation, and he secretly took his departure for the cavern, removed a sufficiency of the wall to enable him to creep through, replaced it again to baffle any curious eyes, and lighting a taper (formed of wax and bear's grease) took his place by the fettered and helpless prisoner, and began tormenting him, though at first by words.

"How does the pale-faced dog like the prison-house of the red-man?" he questioned, in a sneering voice.

"It is a good place to die as any other," replied the physician, somewhat cheered even by his presence, and resolved to show bravery if he did not feel it, and find out, if possible, what had become of his lost love.

"Would he live?"

"Who would not?"

"What would he give for life and freedom?"

"Any thing."

"Then let him tell how he got clear from the many thongs that were knotted around him."

"Remove the stones and I will show you."

"Is the Medicine a fool?"

"It is the only way I can explain, so that you will understand."

"The tongue of the pale-face is used to traveling a crooked trail, but the snows of many winters have fallen upon the head of the Medicine of the Sioux, and brought wisdom," and then, as a further temptation to the revelation, he continued: "Would he not learn of the squaw whose skin is like the blossom of the prairie rose?"

"I would be willing to die, if I could but know that she had escaped from the power of that black-hearted ruffian."

"If I will tell, will you reveal the secrets by which you make yourself great among your people?"

"Yes, any thing that is in my power."

"She fled in the night, and the pale-face can not find her."

"Heaven be thanked!"

"But neither can the red-man, though they have tracked her as the starving wolf does the wounded and blood-dropping deer."

"Then she must be lost in the wilderness."

"Where the wild beasts roam," answered the red-man, with almost fiendish delight.

It was a terrible consummation of the bright dream of love, and yet, any thing was better than to think of her being the reluctant and agonized wife of the remorseless renegade. Even death was a release from never to be told suffering, and through the profound darkness, there is a very faint hope of escape.

"Now," resumed the old trickster, "let the pale-face tell how he untied himself."

"I can not without showing you."

"And how he made the voice that the red-man took for those of a spirit?"

"It is a gift of nature, improved by practice," and he gave an illustration of the peculiar powers of a ventriloquist.

"And how he made my arm like iron?"

"That, also, is a gift--the exercise of a concentrated will," and he related the manner of mesmerism.

But do what he might he could not illuminate the stolid mind of the Indian--could not produce any tangible illustrations, and consequently could not satisfy him, and his face turned still blacker, and became even more hideous with anger, as he thundered, "The pale-face lies! He will make him tell what he wishes to know. Before he has done with him, he will whine like a whipped dog--cry like a sick pappoose, beg like a coward for his life, and be glad to tell every thing that is concealed within his black heart."

Never was a poor wretch more at the mercy of his torturer. Besides the bonds with which he had been fettered, and which cut deeply into the flesh, his limbs were loaded down with heavy stones, so that while they did not actually crush they yet restricted every movement. Then, too, he was already beginning to suffer from the combined effects of hunger and thirst.

"The pale-face handled and swallowed red-hot coals," said the Medicine, savagely. "Let him keep the fire from burning him now if he can!"

Slowly, and by the exercise of more strength than his withered frame would have been thought to possess, the Indian removed the stones from about his feet and kindled a fire there that would scorch, blister, burn deeply and yet be in no danger of taking life. He was experienced in this kind of torture, and knew well how far it could be carried.

An icy sweat burst over the miserable prisoner--great drops stood upon his brow. His agony was frightful. He could have screamed for pain, and forced his tongue between his teeth to prevent his doing so, though he could not keep the smoking flesh from wincing.

"Will the pale-face confess?" asked the diabolical old torturer, as he held a cup of cold water to the parching lips, and then, as they were strained open to swallow, swiftly removed it again.

"I have told you all I can," gasped the suffering man, adding beneath his breath: "Oh! God, have mercy upon me!"

"It is a lie!"

The tortures were renewed--the fire drawn still a little closer, and to make the horror more intense, the swollen, blistered feet were scarified with the point of a sharp knife and the blood and water spurted forth and hissed upon the glowing coals.

"Will the pale-face tell?"

"I can not--can not, more than I have already done."

He felt as if he would instantly expire. Yet his professional knowledge told him such would not be the case--that human nature could endure such suffering, severe though it was, for hours. And as the old fiend bent over him, with looks of hatred and ferocity lighting up his dark features, he registered the most solemn oath that ever was formed within a human soul, that if he should survive and gain his freedom he would rival him in revenge.

But when to the tortures of fire was added the equally terrible one of water falling drop by drop upon his head, he felt that his agony was fast becoming too great for endurance--every fiber of his frame shuddered, and he knew that he was rapidly becoming insane.

Then he would have bartered every particle of knowledge he possessed for a respite from pain, no matter how brief, and did all that was in his power to tell his tormentor what he was so anxious to know. But it was without avail. The fire still raged, and blistered, and burned--the skin was beginning to crumble away, shriveling up like parchment and gaping cracks appearing in the flesh!

Even the Medicine saw that it would not do to carry it further, and kicking aside the brands he drew some ointment from his pouch, dressed the horribly-burned feet, and with the very refinement of cruelty, said:

"To-morrow all the fire will be removed, and the sores begin to heal, for this salve is famous among the red-men. Then I will come and burn again!"

The poor white man fancied, and a prayer of thankfulness went upward from his heart at the thought, that his torture for the time was ended. But it was not so. It was to be continued in a different manner--one equally difficult to bear, though bringing with it little danger.

Tearing the garments from about his body and as far as he could well do from his limbs, the demon in human shape produced a bag of nettles and began rubbing the exposed flesh, leaving such a fierce, fiery, stinging sensation that even more than fire tended to drive the victim mad.

"Ho! ho!" shouted the Medicine, making the cavern echo with his derisive and joyous laughter. "How do you like this? Where are the spirits now that you boasted you could summon at your pleasure? Why do they not come and save you?"

"'Taunt as you may!" replied the prisoner, choking down the great gasps of pain, "but your day will come, and then, God help you!"

"The Manitou of the pale-face is a dog."

There were other and equally bitter tortures floating through the mind of the Medicine, but he was forced to reserve them until another occasion. His pleasure in the suffering of the helpless prisoner was too great to be glutted at once, and so he gave him both food and drink to refresh and sustain him. Besides he believed he would yet accomplish his purpose of extorting the secrets he desired, and would prolong human suffering to any extent to do so.

Again the prisoner was left alone and in the darkness, suffering, almost dying, and even when worn out and he slumbered, his sufferings could only have been equaled by those of the bottomless pit.