The child was too young and ran away from the gruesome task.
Gathering darkness fell over the horrible spectacle. The exhausted
captives, some in a delirium from pain, others unconscious, were led to
separate lodges, or dragged over the ground, and left tied for the
night. The next morning all were returned to the scaffolds, but the
first day had glutted the Iroquois appetite for tortures. The friendly
family was permitted to approach Radisson. The mother brought him food
and told him that the Council Lodge had decided not to kill him for
that day--they wanted the young white warrior for their own ranks; but
even as the cheering hope was uttered, came a brave with a pipe of live
coals, in which he thrust and held Radisson's thumb. No sooner had the
tormentor left than the woman bound up the burn and oiled Radisson's
wounds. He suffered no abuse that day till night, when the soles of
both feet were burned. The majority of the captives were flung into a
great bonfire. On the third day of torture he almost lost his life.
First came a child to gnaw at his fingers. Then a man appeared armed
for the ghastly work of mutilation. Both these the Iroquois father of
Radisson sent away. Once, when none of the friendly family happened to
be near, Radisson was seized and bound for burning, but by chance the
lighted faggot scorched his executioner. A friendly hand slashed the
thongs that bound him, and he was drawn back to the scaffold.
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