The prisoner coolly asked what should be the manner of his death.

"By fire," was the reply.

"It is well," returned the Iroquois.

Meanwhile, the sister of the slain Huron, in whose place the prisoner was
to have been adopted, brought him a dish of food, and, her eyes flowing
with tears, placed it before him with an air of the utmost tenderness;
while, at the same time, the warrior brought him a pipe, wiped the sweat
from his brow, and fanned him with a fan of feathers.

About noon he gave his farewell feast, after the custom of those who knew
themselves to be at the point of death. All were welcome to this strange
banquet; and when the company were gathered, the host addressed them in a
loud, firm voice: "My brothers, I am about to die. Do your worst to me.
I do not fear torture or death." Some of those present seemed to have
visitings of real compassion; and a woman asked the priests if it would
be wrong to kill him, and thus save him from the fire.

The Jesuits had from the first lost no opportunity of accosting him;
while he, grateful for a genuine kindness amid the cruel hypocrisy that
surrounded him, gave them an attentive ear, till at length, satisfied
with his answers, they baptized him. His eternal bliss secure, all else
was as nothing; and they awaited the issue with some degree of composure.

A crowd had gathered from all the surrounding towns, and after nightfall
the presiding chief harangued them, exhorting them to act their parts
well in the approaching sacrifice, since they would be looked upon by the
Sun and the God of War. [ Areskoui (see Introduction). He was often