they did, but they seldom came into my tent and when they did come in,
it was only for a moment. I slept in a sitting position and whenever I
would wake up, in a startled state from some fevered dream, I
invariably saw, at the tent door, a human eye riveted upon me.

Imagine yourself seated in a quiet room at night, and every time you
look at the door, which is slightly ajar, you catch the eye of a man
fixed upon you, and try then to form an idea of my feelings. I heard
that the human eye had power to subdue the most savage beast that
roams the woods; if so, there must be a great power in the organ of
vision; but I know of no object so awe-inspiring to look upon, as the
naked eye concentrated upon your features. Had we but the same
conception of that "all seeing eye," which we are told, continually
watches us, we would doubtlessly be wise and good; for if it inspired
us with a proportionate fear, we would possess what Solomon tells us
in the first step to wisdom--"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of
wisdom."

But I never could describe all the miseries I suffered during those
few weeks. I was two months in captivity; and eight days afterwards we
heard of Major-General Strange's arrival, I managed to escape. The
morning of our escape seemed to have been especially marked out by
providence for us. It was the first and only time the Indians were not
upon the close watch. Up to that day, we used to march from sunrise to
sunset, and all night long the Indians would dance. I cannot conceive
how human beings could march all day, as they did, and then dance the
wild, frantic dances that they kept up all night. Coming on grey dawn
they would tire out and take some repose. Every morning they would
tear down our tent to see if we were in it. But whether attracted by
the arrival of the soldiers--by the news of General Strange's