Or, if he could taunt them into killing him at once he would be spared all the terrible agony which they were in the habit of inflicting on their victims.
One handsome young brave twirled a glittering tomahawk which he threw from a distance of ten, fifteen, and twenty feet and every time the sharp blade of the hatchet sank deep into the stake within an inch of Isaac's head.

With a proud and disdainful look Isaac gazed straight before him and paid no heed to his tormentor.
"Does the Indian boy think he can frighten a white warrior ?" said Isaac scornfully at length.

"Let him go and earn his eagle plumes.
The pale face laughs at him." The young brave understood the Huron language, for he gave a frightful yell and cast his tomahawk again, this time shaving a lock of hair from Isaac's head.
This was what Isaac had prayed for.

He hoped that one of these glittering hatchets would be propelled less skillfully than its predecessors and would kill him instantly.

But the enraged brave had no other opportunity to cast his weapon, for the Indians jeered at him and pushed him from the line.
Other braves tried their proficiency in the art of throwing knives and tomahawks, but their efforts called forth only words of derision from Isaac.