The Indians were Miamis. That promised a journey clear to northern Indiana, perhaps. Whew! But Little Fat Bear and Buck Elk encouraged the fellows to "keep a stiff upper lip," and take whatever came; then the Indians would respect them more. If they put up a "holler" and "bellered," they'd be licked.
This worked out finely. Pluck always does. They and their captors got along splendidly, and they were not tied at night nor made to carry loads. Nevertheless, it was a tremendous journey, straight northward through the wilderness, with never a glimpse of any town, until, after a week or more, they arrived at the Miami village.
"How far've we come, you think?" asked William Wells, when the village was to be seen and by the preparations they knew that it was the place.
"Upwards of two hundred miles, I'll bet," replied Fat Bear. He was not so fat, now.
That was a shrewd guess. The village was upon the Little Calumet River, near present Valparaiso in northwestern Indiana--a full two hundred and twenty-five miles from Louisville opposite the southern boundary. They had been taken through the whole state.
"The gauntlet! Cracky! We've got to run the gauntlet!"
"Don't you show the white feather, any of you. Keep together and run like sixty."
"And don't you tumble over again, either," they warned, of Fat Bear. "If you're down once, you'll get licked proper."
"Make for the council house. That's the way to do."
At the "prisoners'" whoop the village people had boiled out of their woven-reed houses. One of the Indians had hurried in advance, to tell the news, and the gauntlet lines were forming. It was to be a gauntlet by boys for other boys! There were only Indian boys in the lines--they were armed with sticks and switches and stones and small tomahawks and handfuls of salt and dirt (for the eyes), the same as warriors and squaws.
The five captives were halted. They had been greeted with yells and screeches; but they set their lips and clenched their hands, and stood ready. What their brothers and fathers and grand-fathers had done, they could do. It was quite an honor, to be made to run the gauntlet, like men.
The littler Linn was shoved forward, to lead the race. He was the smallest, and would hold the other boys back--and he had been the spunkiest, all the way up, because he had a quick temper and was prompt to fight. The Indians had liked to tease him.