# Seth Jones/Chapter 7
### CHAPTER VII. THE EXPERIENCE OF SETH.

"By gracious! stars and garters! &c.! &c.! This is a new way of introducing one's self!" exclaimed Seth, as he sprawled out among the savages around the council fire.
The consternation of the Indians at this sudden apparition among them may well be imagined. The crackling of the undergrowth above, had aroused them, yet the advent of Seth was so sudden and almost instantaneous, that ere they could form a suspicion of the true nature of things, he was among them. Their habitual quickness of thought came to them at once. Graham was seen as he wheeled and fled, and as has been shown, a number sprang at once in pursuit, while a dozen leaped upon Seth, and as many tomahawks were raised.
"Now jest hold on," commanded Seth; "there ain't any need of being in a hurry. Plenty time to take my hair. Fact, by gracious."
His serio-comical manner arrested and amused his captors. They all paused and looked at him, as if expecting another outburst, while he contented himself with gazing at them with a look of scornful contempt. Seeing this, one sprang forward, and clenching his hair in a twist, hissed—
"Oh! cuss Yankee! we burn him!"
"If you know what's best, ole chap, you'll take yer paw off my head in a hurry. Ef you don't you mought find it rather convenient to."
The savage, as if to humor him, removed his hand, and Seth's rifle too. Seth gazed inquiringly at him a moment, and then with an air of conscious superiority, said:
"I'll lend that to you awhile, provided you return it all right Mind, you be keerful now, 'cause that ar gun cost something down in New Hampshire."
​From what has just been written, it will doubtless be suspected that Seth's conduct was a part which he was playing. When thrown into peril by the impatience of his companion, he saw at once that an attempt at flight was useless. Nothing was left but to submit to his misfortune with the best grace possible; and yet there was a way in which this submission could be effected which would result better for himself than otherwise. Had he offered resistance, or submitted despairingly, as many a man would have done, he would doubtless have been tomahawked instantly. So, with a readiness of thought, which was astonishing, he assumed an air of reckless bravado. This, as we have shown, had the desired result thus far. How it succeeded after, will be seen in the remaining portion of this history.
Seth Jones was a man whose character could not be read in an hour, or day. It required a long companionship with him to discover the nicely shaded points, and the characteristics which seemed in many cases so opposite. United with a genial, sportive humor and apparent frankness, he was yet far-seeing and cautious, and could read the motives of a man almost at a glance. With a countenance which seemed made expressly to vail his soul, his very looks were deceptive; and, when he chose to play a certain role, he could do it to perfection. Had one seen him when the conversation above record ed took place, he would have unhesitatingly set him down as a natural-born idiot.
"How you like to burn, eh, Yankee?" asked a savage, stooping and grinning horribly in his face.
"I don't know; I never tried it," replied Seth with as much nonchalance as though it was a dinner to which he was referring.
"E-e-e-e! you will try it, Yankee."
"Don't know, yet; there are various opinions about that p'raps. When the thing is did I mought believe it."
"You, sizzle nice—nice meat—good for burn!" added another savage, grasping and feeling his arm.
"Just please to not pinch, my friend."
The savage closed his fingers like iron rods, and clenched the member till Seth thought it would be crushed. But, though the pain was excruciating, he manifested not the least ​feeling. The Indian tried again and again, till he gave up and remarked, expressive of his admiration of the man's pluck.
"Good Yankee! stand pinch well."
"Oh! you wan't pinching me, was you? Sorry I didn't know it. Try again, you mought p'raps do better."
The savage, however, retired, and another stepped forward and grasped the captive's hand.
"Soft, like squaw's hand—let me feel it," he remarked, shutting his own over it like a vice. Seth winced not in the least; but, as the Indian in turn was about to relinquish his attempt at making sport for his comrades, Seth said:
"Your paws don't appear very horny," and closed over it with a terrific grip. The savage stood it like a martyr, till Seth felt the bones of his hand actually displacing, and yielding like an apple. He determined, as he had in reality suffered himself, to be revenged, and he closed his fingers tighter and more rigid till the poor wretch sprang to his feet, and howled with pain!
"Oh! did I hurt you?" he asked with apparent solicitude, as the savage's hand slid from his own with much the appearance of a wet glove. The discomfited Indian made no reply, but retired amid the jeers of his comrades. Seth, without moving a muscle, seated himself deliberately upon the ground, and coolly asked a savage to lend him a pipe. It is known, that when an Indian sees such hardihood and power, as their captor had just evinced, he does not endeavor to conceal his admiration. Thus it was not strange, that Seth's impudent request was complied with. One handed him a well-filled, pipe, with a grin in which could be distinctly seen, admiration, exultation, and anticipated revenge. From the looks of the others, it was plain they anticipated an immense deal of sport. Our present hero continued smoking, lazily watching the volumes of vapor, as they slowly rolled before and around him. His captors sat around him a moment, conversing in their own tongue (every word of which we may remark, was perfectly understood by Seth), when one arose and stepped forward before him.
"White man strong—him pinch well—but me make him cry!"
So saying, he stooped, and removing the captive's cap, ​seized a long tuft of yellow hair which had its root at the temple. A stab in the eye would not have caused an acuter twinge of pain; but, as he jerked it forth by the roots, Seth gave not the slightest indication, save a stronger whiff at the pipe. The savages around did not suppress a murmur of admiration. Seeing no effect from this torture, the tormenter again stooped and caught another tuft that grew low upon the neck. Each single hair felt like the point of a needle thrust into the skin, and as it came forth, the Indians seated around, noticed a lived paleness, like the track of a cloud, quickly flash over their captive's countenance. He looked up in his tormentor's eyes with an indescribable look. For a moment, he fixed a gaze upon him, that savage as he was, caused a strange shiver of dread to run through him.
To say that Seth cared nothing for these inflicted agonies would be absurd. Had the savage dreamed what a whirlwind of hate and revenge he had awakened by them, he would have never attempted what he did. It was only by an almost unaccountable power that Seth controlled the horrible pains of both body and mind, he suffered. He felt as though it was impossible to prevent himself from writhing on the ground in torment, and springing at his persecutor and tearing him from limb to limb. But he had been schooled to Indian indignities, and bore them unflinchingly.
His temple had the appearance of white parchment with innumerable bloody points in it, as the blood commenced oozing from the wound, and his neck seemed as though the skin had been scraped off! His momentary paleness had been caused by the sickening pain and the intensest passion. His look at the savage was to remember him. After the events which have just transpired, they remained seated a moment in silence. At last, one who appeared to be the leader, addressed in an undertone, the Indian whom we have just seen retire from the post of tormentor. Seth, however, caught the words, and had he not, it is not probable he would have successfully under gone the last trying ordeal.
The same savage again stepped forward in the circle before the helpless captive, and removing the cap which had been replaced, clinched the long yellow locks in his left hand, and threw the head backward. Then, whipping out his scalping ​knife, he flashed it a second in the air, and circled its cold edge around his head with the rapidity of lightning. The skin was not pierced, and it was only an artifice. Seth never took his eyes from the Indian during this awful minute.
The tormentor again retired. The savages were satisfied, but Seth was not. He handed his pipe back, replaced his cap, and rising to his feet, surveyed for a few seconds the group around, He then addressed the leader.
"Can the white man now try the red man's courage?"
The voice sounded like another person's. Yet the chief noticed it not, and nodded an assent to the request, while the looks of the others showed the eagerness and interest they felt In these dreadful proceedings.
The savage who had inflicted all this agony, had seated himself directly beside the chief. Seth stepped to him, and grasping his arm, pressed it moderately. The Indian gave a scornful grunt. Seth then stooped and gently took the tomahawk from his belt. He raised it slowly on high, bent down till his form was like the crouching panther ready to spring. The glittering blade was seen to flash as it circled through the air, and the next instant it crashed clean through the head of the unsuspecting savage!