not more astonishing than the fortitude of the victim. He ran the
gauntlet thirteen times; he was exposed to insult, privation, and
injury of every kind: sometimes he was tied, sometimes beaten. At
others, he was pinched, dragged on the ground, or deprived for long
periods of sleep. Then, amid jeers and yells, he was marched from
village to village, so that all might be entertained with his
sufferings. Yet, amid each torture, he never failed to improve an
opportunity favorable for escaping, and in one instance would have
effected it, but for some Indians whom he accidentally met returning
to the village. Finally it was resolved to burn him at Lower Sandusky.
The procession, bearing the victim to the stake, passed by the cabin
of Simon Girty, whose name is a counterpart to that of Brandt, in the
annals of Pennsylvania. This man had just returned from an
unsuccessful expedition to the frontier of that state, burning, of
course, with disappointment, and a thirst for revenge. Hearing that a
white prisoner was being carried to the torture, he rushed out, threw
Butler down, and began to beat him.

The reader will not be apt to imagine that this was in any way
favorable to Butler's escape; yet it was so. He instantly recognised
in the fierce assailant a companion of early days, and as such made
himself known. The heart of the savage relented. He raised up his old
friend, promised to use his influence for him, summoned a council, and
persuaded the Indians to resign Butler to him. Taking the unfortunate
man home, he fed and nursed him until he began to recover. But five
days had scarcely expired, when the Indians relented, seizing their
victim, and marched him to be burned at Lower Sandusky. By a
surprising coincidence, he here met the Indian agent from Detroit, who
interceded and saved him. He was taken to that town, paroled by the
governor, and subsequently escaped through the woods to Kentucky.