xt7dfn10ph0h https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7dfn10ph0h/data/mets.xml Eggleston, George Cary, 1839-1911. 1875  books b92-200-30752132 English G.P. Putnam's Sons, : New York : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Creek War, 1813-1814 Fiction. Big brother  : a story of Indian war / by George Cary Eggleston. text Big brother  : a story of Indian war / by George Cary Eggleston. 1875 2002 true xt7dfn10ph0h section xt7dfn10ph0h 











          NEW YORK






                  CHAPTER I.              Page.
SINQUEFIELD  -                               7

                 CHAPTER II.
                 CHAPTER III.
SAM'S LECTURE--            -      -   -     23

                 CHAPTER IV.

                 CHAPTER V.

                 CHAPTER VI.
SURPRISED -                                6i

                CHAPTER VII.
CONFUSED -                                 67

                CHAPTER VIII.
WEATHERFORD-                               71

                CHAPTER IX.
WEARY WAITING                              83


4                 CONTEN"TS.

                 CHAPTER X.               Page.
FIGHTING FIRE -            -93

                 CHAPTER XI.

                 CHAPTER XII.

                CHAPTER XIII.
JOE'S PLAN-                                124

                CHAPTER XIV.
THE CANOE FIGHT            -130

                CHAPTER XV.

                CHAPTER XVI.
WHERE IS JOE -                            159

                CHAPTER XVII.
A FAMINE-                                  I 63

                CHAPTER XVIII



TiE Do(, CHARGE     -



JUDIE ON THE RAFT - -   -   -





-  40

-  49


 This page in the original text is blank.



                CHAPTER I.


        N the quiet days of peace and security
        in which we live it is difficult to imagine
    ____ such a time of excitement as that at
which our story opens, in the summer of iSi 3.
Fromn the beginning of that year, the Creek
Indians in Alabama and Mississippi had shown
a decided disposition to become hostile.  In
addition to the usual incentives to war which
always exist where the white settlements border
closely upon Indian territory, there were several
special causes operating to bring about a struggle
at that time. We were already at war with the
British, and British agents were very active in stir-



ring up trouble on our frontiers, knowin- that
nothing would so surely weaken the Amer'cans
as a general outbreak of Indian hostilities. Te-
cumseh, the -reat chief, had visited the Creeks, too,
and had urged them to go on the war path, threat-
ening them, in the event of their refusal, with the
wrath of the Great Spirit. His appeals to their
superstition were materially strengthened by the
occurrence of an earthquake, which singularly
enough, he had predicted, threatening that when
he returned to his home he would stamp his foot
and shake their houses down. Their own prophets,
Francis and Singuista, had preached wvar, too,
telling the Indians that their partial adoption of
civilization, and their relations of friendship with
the whites, were sorely displeasing to the Great
Spirit, who would surely punish them if they did
not immediately abandon the civilization and butch-
er the pale-faces. Francis predicted, also, that in
the coming struggle no Indians would be killed,
while the whites would be completely extermi-
nated. All this was promised on condition that the
Indians should become complete savages again,
quitting all the habits of industry and thrift which





they had been learning for some years past, and
fighting mercilessly against all whites, sparing
   All these things combined to bring on the war,
and during the spring several raids were made by
small bodies of the Indians, in which the) were
pretty severely punished by the whites. Finally a
battle was fought at Burnt-corn, in July i813, and
this Xvas the signal for the breaking out of the most
terrible of all Indian wars,-the most terrible, be-
cause the savages engaged in it had learned from
the whites how to fight, and because many of their
chiefs were educated half-breeds, familiar with the
country and with all the points of weakness on the
part of the settlers. Stockade forts were built in
various places, and in these the settlers took refuge,
leaving their fields to grow as they might and their
houses to be plundered and burned whenever the
Indians should choose to visit them. The stock-
ades were so built as to enclos.e several acres each,
and strong block houses inside, furnished additional
protection.  Into these forts there came men,
women, and children, from all parts of the country,
each bringing as much food as possible, and each



willing to lend a hand to the common defence and
the common support.
   On the 3oth of August, the Indians attacked
Fort Mims, one of the largest of the stockade stations,
and after a desperate battle destroyed it, killing all
but seventeen of the five hundred and fifty people
who were living in it. The news of this terrible
slaughter quickly spread over the country, and
everybody knew now that a general war had begun,
in which the Indians meant to destroy the whites
utterly, not sparing even the youngest children.
   Those who had remained on their farms now
flocked in great numbers to the forts, and every
effort was made to strengthen the defences at all
points. The men, including all the boys who were
large enough to point a gun and pull a trigger,
were organized into companies and assigned to
port-holes, in order that each might know where
to go to do his part of the fighting whenever the
Indians should come. Even those of the women
who knew how to shoot, insisted upon being pro-
vided with guns and assigned to posts of duty.
There was not only no use in flinching, but every
one of them knew that whenever the fort should




be attacked the only question to be decided was,
"Shall we beat the savages off, or shall every man
wvomarn and child of us be butchered " They could
not run away, for there was nowhere to run,
except into the hands of the merciless foe. The
life of every one of them was involved in the
defence of the forts, and each was, therefore,
anxious to do all he could to make the defense a
successful one. Their only hope was in desperate
courage, and, being Americans, their courage was
equal to the demand made upon it. It was not a
civilized war, in which surrenders, and exchanges
of prisoners, and treaties and flags of truce, or even
neutrality offered any escape. It was a savage
war, in which the Indians intended to kill all the
whites, old and young, wherever they could find
them.  The people in the forts knew this, and
they made their arrangements accordingly.
   Now if the boys and girls who read this story
will get their atlases and turn to the mnap of
Alabama, they wvill find some points, the relative
positions of which they must remember if they
wish to understand fully the happenings with
which we have to do. Just below   the junc-




tion of the Alabama and Tombigbee rivers, on the
east side of the stream, they wvill find the little
town of Tensaw, and Fort Mims stood very near
that place.  The peninsula formed by the two
rivers above their junction is now Clarke County,
and almost exactly in its centre stands the village
of Grove Hill. A mile or two to the north-east
stood Fort Sinquefield. Fort White was several
miles further west, and Fort Glass, afterwards
called Fort Madison, stood fifteen miles south, at
a point about three miles south of the present
village of Suggsville. On the eastern side of the
Alabama river is the town of Claiborne, and at a
point about three miles below Claiborne the prin-
cipal events of this story occurred. It will not
hurt you, boys and girls, to learn a little accurate
geography, by looking up these places before
going on with the story, and if I were your school-
master, instead of your story teller, I should stop
here to advise you always to look on the map for
every town, river, lake, mountain or other geo-
graphical thing mentioned in any book or paper
you read. I would advise you, too, if I were your
schoolmaster, to add up all the figures given in

I 2



books and newspapers, to see if the writers have
made any mistakes; and it is a good plan too, to go
at once to the dictionary when you meet a word
you do not quite comprehend, or to the encyclo-
piedia or history, or whatever else is handy, when-
ever you read about anything and would like to
know more about it. I say I should stop here to
give you some such advice as this, if I were your
schoolmaster. As I am not, however, I must go
on with my story instead.
   W\ithin a mile or two of Fort Sinquefield
lived a gentleman named Hardwicke. He was a
widower with three children. Sam, the oldest of
the three, was nearly seventeen; Tommy was eleven,
and a little girl of seven years, named Judith, but
called Judie, was the other. Mr. Hardwicke was a
quiet, studious man, who had come to Alabama
from Baltimore, not many years before, and since
the death of his wife he had spent most of his
tinme in his library, which was famous throughout
the settlement on account of the wonderful num-
ber of books it contained. There were hardly any
schools in Alabama in those days, and Mr. Hard-
wicke, being a man of education and considerable




wealth, gave up almost the whole of his time to
his children, teaching them in doors and out, and
directing them in their reading. It was under-
stood that Sam would be sent north to attend
College the next year, and meantime he had
become a voracious reader. He read all sorts of
books, and as he remembered and applied the
things he learned from them, it was a common
saying in the country round about, that " Sam
Hardwicke knows pretty nearly everything." Of
course that was not true, but he knew a good
deal more than most of the men in the country,
and better than all, he knew how very much there
was for him yet to learn. A boy has learned the
very best lesson of his life when he knows that he
really does not know much; it is a lesson some peo-
ple never learn at all. But books were not the
only things Sam Hardwicke was familiar with.
He could ride the worst horses in the country and
shoot a rifle almost as well as Tandy Walker him-
self, and Tandy, as every reader of history knows,
was the most famous rifleman, as well as the best
guide and most daring scout in the whole south-
west. Sam had hunted, too, over almost every




inch of country within twenty miles around, trudg-
ing alone sometimes for a week or a fortnight
before returning, and in this way he had learned
to know the distances, the directions, and the
nature of the country lying between different
places,-a knowledge worth gaining by anybody,
and especially valuable to a boy who lived in a
frontier settlement. He was strong of limb and
active as he was strong, and his " book knowledge,"
as the neighbors called it, served him many a good
turn in the woods, when he was beset by difficul-
   Sam's father was one of the very last of the
settlers to go into a fort. He remained at home
as long as he could, and went to Fort Sinque-
field at last, only when warned by an Indian who
for some reason liked him, that he and his chil-
dren's lives were in imminent danger. That was
on the first of September, and when the Hardwicke
family, black and white, were safely within the
little fortress, there remained outside only two
families, namely, those of Abner James and Ran-
som Kimball, who determined to remain one more
night at Kimball's house, two miles from Sinque-

I 5


I 6           THE BIG BROTHER.
field. That very night the Indians, under Francis
the prophet, burned the house, killing twelve of
the inmates. Five others escaped, and one of
them, Isham Kimball, who was then a boy of six-
teen, afterwards became Clerk of Clarke County,
where he was still living in I 857.



                CHAPTER II.


         HEN the news of the massacre at Kim-
         ball's reached Fort Glass, a detachment
         of ten men was sent out to recover the
bodies, which they brought to Fort Sinquefielci
for burial.  The graves were dug in a little
valley three or four hundred yards from the
fort, and all the people went out to attend the
funeral.  The services had just come to an
end when the cry of "Indians! Indians! " was
raised, and a body of warriors, under the prophet
Francis, dashed down from behind a hill, upon the
defenceless people, whose guns were inside the
fort. The first impulse of every one was to catch
up the little children and hasten inside the gates.
but it was manifestly too late. The Indians were
already nearer the fort than they, and were run-




ning with all their migrht, brandishing their knives
and tomahawks, and yelling like demons.
   There seemed no way of escape. Sam Hard-
wicke took little Judie up in his arms, and, quick
as thought calculated the chances of reaching the
fort. Clearly the only way in which he could pos-
sibly get there, was by leaving his little sister to
her fate and running for his life. But Sam Hard-
wicke was not the sort of boy to do anything so
cowardly as that. Abandoning the thought of
getting to the fort, he called to Tom to follow him,
and with Judie in his arms, he ran into a neigh-
boring thicket, where the three, with Joe, a black
boy of twelve or thirteen years who had followed
them, concealed themselves in the bushes. Wheth-
er they had been seen by the Indians or not, they
had no way of knowing, but their only hope of
safety now lay in absolute stillness. They crouched
down together and kept silence.
     What's we gwine to do here, I wonder,"
whispered the black boy. " Whar mus' we go, Mas
Sam "
   Sam did not answer.    He was too much
absorbed in studying the situation to talk or even



to listen. The Indians were coming down upon the
white people from every side, and the only wonder
was that Sam's little party had managed to find a
gap in their line big enough to escape through.
     Be patient, Joe," said little Judie, in the calmest
voice possible. "Brother Sam will take care of us.
Give him time. He always does know what to (o."
   " Be still, Joe," said Sam. " If you talk that In-
dian '11 see us," pointing to one not thirty steps
distant, though Joe had not yet seen him.
   A terrified " ugh ! " was all the reply Joe could
   Meantime the situation of the fort people was
terrible.  Cut off from the gates and unarmed,
there seemed to be nothing for them to do except
to meet death as bravely and calmly as they could.
A young mnan named Isaac Harden happened to be
near the gates, however, on horseback, and accom-
panied by a pack of about sixty hounds. And
this young man, whose name has barely crept into
a corner of history, was both a hero and a military
genius, and he did right then and there, a deed
as brilliant and as heroic as any other in
history. Seeing the perilous position of the fort




people, he raised himself in his stirrups and wav-
ing his hat, charged the savages wi// l/hs pack of
dogss, whooping and yelling after the manner of a
huntsman, and leading the fierce bloodhounds
right into the ranks of the infuriated Indians.
The dogs being trained to chase and seize any
living thing upon which their master might set
them, attacked the Indians furiously, I larden en-
couraging them and riding down group after group
of the bewildered savages. Charging right and
left with his dogs, he succeeded in putting the
Indians for a time upon the defensive, thus givingr
the white people time to escape into the fort.
When all were in except Sam's party and a' Mrs.
Phillips who was killed, Harden began looking
about him for a chance to secure his own safety.
His impetuosity had carried him clear through
the Indian ranks, and the savages, having beaten
the dogs off, turned their attention to the young
cavalier who had balked them in the very moment
of their victory. They were between him and the
gates, hundreds against one. His dogs were
killed or scattered, and he saw at a glance that
there was little hope for him. The wvoods behind




 This page in the original text is blank.



him were full of Indians, and so retreat was impos-
sible. Turning his horse's head towards the gates,
he plunged spurs into his side, and with a pistol
in each hand, dashed through the savage ranks,
firing as he went. Blowing a blast upon his horn
to recall those of his dogs which were still alive,
he escaped on foot into the fort, just in time to let
the gate shut in the face of the foremost Indian.
His horse, history tells us, was killed under him,
and he had five bullet 1w les through his clothes,
but his skin was unbroken.
   Francis and his followers were balked but not
beaten. Retiring for a few minutes behind the
hill, they rallied and camie again to the assault,
more furiously than ever. Their savage instincts
were thoroughly aroused by the unexpected defeat
they had sustained in the very moment of their
victory, and they were determined now to take the
fort at any cost. Their plan of attack showed
the skill of their leader, who was really a man of
considerable ability in sprite of his fanatical belief
in his own prophetic gifts. He avoided both the
errors usually committed by Indian leaders in
storming fortified places. He refused, on the one




hand, to let his men waste their powder and
their time in desultory firing, and, on the other, he
decided not to risk everything on the hazard of
a single assault. His plan was to take the fort by
storm, but the storming was to b- done system-
aticarly. Dividing his force into two parts, he sent
one to the attack, and held the other back in the
hope that the first would gain a position so near the
stockade as to make the assault of the second, led
by himself, doubly sure of success. The plan was
a good one, without doubt, and no man was better
qualified than Francis to carry it out.
   WRhen the storming party came, the people in
the fort were ready for it. Counting out the
women and children, their numbers were not large,
but they were a brave and determined set of men
and boys, who knew very well in what kind of a
struggle they were engaged. They reserved their
fire until the Indians were within thirty yards of
the fort, and then delivered it as rapidly as they
could, taking care to waste none of it by random or
careless shooting. The fort consisted, as all the
border fortifications did, of a simple stockade, in-
side of which was a block-house for the protection




of the women and children, and designed also as a
sort of " last ditch," in which a desperate resistance
could be made, even after the fort had been carried.
The stockade was made of the trunks of pine-trees
set on end in the ground, close together, but pierced
at intervals with port-holes, through which the
men of the garrison could fire. Such a stockade
afforded an excellent protection against the bullets
and the arrows of the Indians, and gave its defend-
ers a great advantage over the assailing force,
which must, of course, be exposed to a galling fire
from the men behind the barriers. As the stock.'
ade was about fifteen feet high, climbing over it
was almost wholly out of the question, and the
only way to take the fort was to rush upon it with
fence rails, stop up the port-holes immediately in
front, and keep so close to the stockade as to
escape the fire from points to the right and left,
while engaged in cutting down the timber barrier.
If the Indians could do this, their superior num-
bers would enable them to rush in through the open-
ing thus made, and then the block-house would
be the only refuge left to the white people. The
block-house was a building made of very large




timbers, hewed square, laid close upon each other
and notched to an exact fit at the ends. It had but
one entrance, and that was near the top. This could
be reached only by a ladder, and should the Indians
gain access to the fort, the whites would retire, fight-
ing, to this building, and when all were in, the ladder
would be drawn in after them. From the port-holes
of the block-house a fierce fire could be delivered,
and as the square timbers were not easily set on fire,
a body of Indians must be very determined indeed,
if they succeeded in taking or destroying a block-
house. At Fort Mims, however, they had done
so, burning the house over the heads of the in-
   The reader will understand, from this descrip-
tion of the fort, how possible it was for the people
within it to withstand a very determined attack,
and to inflict heavy loss upon the savages, without
suffering much in their turn.  Francis's men
charged furiously upon the silent stockade, but
were sent reeling back as soon as they had come
near enough for the riflemen within to fire with
absolute accuracy of aim. Then the second body,
under Francis himself, charged, but with no better



       THE S70RMING OF SINQUEFIELD.       25

success. A pause followed, and another charge
was made just before nightfall.
   This time some of the savages succeeded in
reaching the stockade and stopping up some of
the port-holes. They cut down a part of the pick-
ets too, and had their friends charged again at
once, the fort would undoubtedly have been carried.
As it was, Francis saw fit to draw off his men, for
the time at least, and retire beyond the hill. What
was now to be done The attack had been re-
pulsed, but it might be renewed at any moment.
The Indians had suffered considerably, while the
casualties within the fort were limited to the loss
of one man and one boy. But the obstinate deter-
mination of Francis was well known, and it was
certain that he had not finally abandoned his pur-
pose of taking the little fort. He had already
demonstrated his ability to carry the place, and it
was, at the least, likely that he would come again
within twenty-four hours, probably with a larger
force, and should he do so, the little garrison was
not in condition to repel his attack. To remain
in the fort, therefore, was certain destruction;
but the country was full of savages, and to at-



tempt a march to Fort Glass, fifteen miles away,
which was the nearest available place, the other
forts being difficult to reach, was felt to be
almost equally hazardous. A council was held,
and it was finally determined that the perilous
march to Fort Glass must be undertaken at all
hazards.  Accordingly, not long after nightfall
the whole garrison, men, women and children,
stealthily left the fort and silently crept away to
the south.
   Sam had seen the dog charge and the escape
of the whites into the fort.
   "XWhat a fool I was!" he exclaimed, "not to
stay where I was ! We might have got in with
the rest of them."
  " Why can't we go to de fort now, or leastways,
as soon as de Injuns goes away" asked Joe.
   "They aint going away," said Sam. " They're
going to storm the fort,-look, they're coming right
here for a starting-point,; and '11 be on top of us in
a minute. Come !-don't make any noise, but fol-
low me. Crawl on your hands and knees, and don't
raise your heads. Look out for sticks. If you
break one, the Indians '11 hear it."




   "Mas' Sam -- dey's Injuns ahead'n us an'
a-comin right torge us too. Look dar!"
   Sam looked, and saw a body of Indians just in
front of him coming to reinforce the others. He
and his friends were cut off between two bodies of
   "Lie down and be still," he whispered. "It's
all we can do-and I'm to blame for it all!"



                CHAPTER III.

                SAM S LECTURE.

        HE people of the fort made no search
        for Sam and his companions; not be-
        cause they cared nothing for them, but
simply because they believed them certainly
dead. Mr. Hardwicke, himself, had seen Sam
start with little Judie towards the fort, before
the dog charge was made, and as neither the
boys nor Judie had ever reached the gates, he
had no doubt whatever that his three children
were slain, as was Mrs. Phillips, the only
other person who had failed to get inside the
stockade. Mr. Hardwicke wished to go out in
search of their bodies, but was overruled by his
companions, who, knowing that the savages were
still in the immediate vicinity, thought it simply a
reckless and unnecessary risk, to go hunting for



               SAM'S LECTURE.                29
the bodies of their friends hundreds of yards away,
and immediately in front of the place at which the
Indians were last seen. The idea was abandoned,
therefore, and the fort party marched away in the
darkness of a cloudy night, towards Fort Glass.
Leaving them to find their way if they can, let us
return to Sam and his little band. Seeinc the
Indians coming towards them, they lay down in the
high weeds. The savages hurrying forward to
reinforce their friends, passed within a few feet of
the young people, but did not see them. The
storming of the fort then began, and after watch-
ing the evolutions of the Indians for some time,
Sam said:
   " We mustn't stay here. Those red skins are
working around this way, and '11 find us. Crawl
on your hands and knees, all of you, and follow
   " Whar's ye gwine to, Mas' Sam" asked Joe.
   " S/, shz," said Judie. " Don't talk Joe, but do
as Brother Sam tells you. Don't you know he
always knows what's best Besides, maybe he
hasn't quite found out where he's going yet, him-


30            TILE BEIG BROTHER.
   But Joe was not as confident of Sam's genius
for doing the right thing as Judie was, and so,
after crawling for some distance, he again broke
    "Miss Judie."
    "What do you want, Joe "
    ",Does you know whar Mas' Sam's a-takin' us
to, an' what he's gwine to do when he gits dar"
   " No, of course I don't."
   " How you know den, dat he's doin' de bes'
thing "
   But the conversation was terminated by a word
from Sam, who said, in a whisper,
   "Joe, I'll tell you where we're going if you ke
   "XWhar, Mas' Sam"
   "Into the hands of the Indians. Keep your
mouth shut, if you don't want your hair lifted off
your head."
   As the black boy certainly did not want his
hair cut Indian fashion, he became silent at
   When they had travelled in this way until they
could no longer hear the yells of the Indians and


               SAMI'S LECTURE.               3 '
the popping of guns at the fort, Sam called a halt.
It was now nearly midnight.
  "Hcre is a good place to spend the rest of the
nigh-t," he said, "and we must be as still as we can.
We can stay here till to-morrow night, and then
we mnust try to get to Fort Glass. It's about
twelve or thirteen miles from here."
     Le's go on now, Mas' Sam; I'se afeared to
stay here," said the black boy.
   "\We can't," said Sam. " I got scratched in
the foot with a stray bullet, just as we went into the
thicket there at the fort, and I can't walk. I am
a little faint and must lie down."
   At this little Judie, who fairly idolized Sam,
and felt perfectly safe from Indians and every-
thing else when he was with her, was disposed to
set up a wvail of sorrow and fright. If poor Sam
were wounded, he might die, she thought, and the
thought was too mucli for her.
   Sam soothed her, however, and the poor, tired
little girl was soon fast asleep in his arms.
    Bring some moss, boys," he said to his com-
panions, and make a bed for Judie here by this log."
   When he had laid her down, he drew off his



shoe and wrapped the wounded foot in some of
the long gray moss which hangs in great festoons
from the trees of that region. Joe, with the true
negro genius for sleeping, was already snoring at
the foot of a tree. Sam quietly called Tom to his
     Tom," said he, "my foot is bleeding pretty
badly, and I can't see till morning to do anything
for it. I have wrapped it up in moss, stuffing the
softest parts into the wound, and that may stop it
after a while. But I may not be able to travel to-
morrow night, and if I can't you must leave me
here and try to find your way to Fort Glass, with
Judie. You must remember that her life will
depend on you, and try to do your duty without
flinching. Don't try to travel in the daytime. Go
on to the south as fast as you can of nights, keep-
ing in the woods and thickets, and as soon as you
see a streak of gray in the sky find a good hiding-
place and stop. You can get some corn and some
sweet potatoes out of any field, but you must eat
them raw, as it wont do to make a fire. Now go
to sleep. I may be able to travel myself, but if I
shouldn't, remember you are a brave man's son,




and must do your duty as a Hardwicke should."
And with that he shook the little fellow's hand.
   After a time Tom, overcome by weariness, fell
asleep, but Sam remained awake all night, trying
to staunch the flow of blood from his foot. He
knew that if he could go on with the others their
chance of safety would be vastly greater than with-
out him, and so hie was disposed to leave no effort
untried to be in a fit condition to travel the next
night. When morning came Sam     called Tom
and Joe, and directed them to examine his wound,
into which he could not see very well.
   "Is the blood of a bright red, as it comes out,
or a dark red " he asked.
    Bright," they both said.
    " Then it comes from an artery," he replied.
" Are you sure it is bright red "
   The boys were not quite sure.
   " Does it come in a steady stream or in spurts"
he asked.
   "It spurts, and stops and spurts again," said Tom.
   " It is an artery, then," said Sam. " Look and
see if you can find the place it comes from."
   The boys made a careful examination and at
          2          3




last found the artery, a small one, which was cut
only about half way across.
     All right," said Sam.  " If that's the case, I
think I know how to stop the blood. Put your
finger in, and break I/ze artery clear in Iwo."
   "0 Sam, then you'll bleed to death," said Tom.
   "No I won't. Do as I tell you."
   "Let me cut it, then. It wont hurt you so
   "No, no, no," cried Sam, staying his hand.
"Don't cut it. Tear it, I tell you, and be quick."
   Tom tore it, and the blood stopped almost
immediately. Sam then bound the foot up with
strips of cloth torn from his clothing, and as he
did so said:
   " Now I'll tell you both all about this so that
you'll know what to do another time. If you know
only wzhat to do, you may forget; but if you know
-why, you'll remember. The blood comes out from
the heart to all parts of the body in arteries, and
when it leaves the heart it is bright red, because it
is clean and pure. Your heart is a sort of force-
pump, and every time it beats it forces the blood
all over you. The arteries fork and branch out in



                SAM'S LECTLURE.                35

every direction, until they terminate in millions of
little veins smaller than the finest hairs, and these
running together make bigger veins, through
which the blood is carried to the lungs.