At Shorakapok

Pard was stone dead. I didn’t have time to ponder it.

That red-paint injun grabbed his bloody hair and sliced off the top of his scalp with a long steel blade. I heard of this practice, but this was the first time I seen it with my own eyes.

He turned and clubbed me good across the face, knocking me back into the water. He seized my ankle and started hauling me toward the bank. Once there, he put his knee in my back and lashed up my wrists with a hank of sinew.

All around me I heard shrieks and screams.

These was devils.

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