Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 11 · column 7 of 8 · from the scan, no model involved

Then it was over. She caught her breath as the boat sailed through darkness. All too soon she saw the light. Then the curve. She braced herself. “This is the Indian Massacre of Red Creek,” said the voice.
It was ghastly.
She heard screams and smelled blood. She almost fainted as an Indian threw a small boy into a fire. "He’s only a little older than my brother,” she thought.
A woman was lashed to a post. One Indian set fire to her skirts. She screamed, trying to pull free.
It was too terrible. She closed her eyes. The boat sped up until it came to a small cubicle. She was yanked from the boat. Her hands were tied to a post.
“You were told to keep your eyes open,” the voice said severely. "Further punishment is necessary.”
The back of her nightgown was ripped open.
“What you are seeing is part of your training,” the voice continued. “You must learn discipline.”
A whip was brought across her back. A short cry escaped her. Again and again she felt the sting of the whip. Then she was untied and shoved into the boat.
“You will now go to your position,” the voice said.
Within a few seconds the boat turned. A ship came into view. A battle was being fought on it. Silently, in fear of more punishment. Janet took her post on the ship; forgetting forever any other life.
87.6%