"Mercy! mercy!" exclaimed Ruth, hoarse with horror, and dropping to her
knees, as much from inability to stand as with intent to petition.
"Monster, strike me, but spare the child!"
The eyes of the Indian rolled over the person of the speaker, but it was
with an expression that seemed rather to enumerate the number of his
victims, than to announce any change of purpose. With a fiend-like
coolness, that bespoke much knowledge of the ruthless practice, he again
swung the quivering but speechless child in the air, and prepared to
direct the weapon with a fell certainty of aim. The tomahawk had made its
last circuit, and an instant would have decided the fate of the victim,
when the captive boy stood in front of the frightful actor in this
revolting scene. By a quick, forward movement of his arm, the blow was
arrested. The deep guttural ejaculation, which betrays the surprise of an
Indian, broke from the chest of the savage, while his hand fell to his
side, and the form of the suspended girl was suffered again to touch the
floor. The look and gesture with which the boy had interfered, expressed
authority rather than resentment or horror.
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