CHAPTER XXII

IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT

APPARENTLY it was not the design of Lascelles to starve his prisoners, for later on he had them untied, and gave them a chance to devour some of the crudely cooked buffalo meat. They were also permitted to drink their fill of the cold water in the brook.

After all this had been done, with the trader watching them constantly, and holding his gun in readiness to frustrate any attempt at escape, the boys were once more tied with long thongs to the trees.

They noticed, however, that the brave who fastened them was inclined to be much more gentle with them than on the first occasion. Dick believed the seed of kindness he had sown was commencing to take root.

"It will be a night that we shall never forget, Dick," Roger remarked. "If it blows up windy and cold, as it was when we were in the cave, we will suffer terribly here."

"Let us hope then that we may not be here all night long," Dick ventured; and somehow his manner, as well as his words, caused the blood of his companion to leap in his veins.

"Do you really mean it?" Roger asked. "Is there a chance that we can break loose, tied up as we are? Are you depending on Mayhew to come to our rescue? Surely, you could not have had any signal from him?"

"Nothing," replied the other. "But have you noticed where they put our guns and powder horns?"

"I must say I hadn't thought much about that part of it," confessed Roger; "but, since you mention it, I think they are over against that tree. The Indians are afraid of firearms, you know. Perhaps the chief Lascelles spoke to us about, and whom he called Black Otter, hopes to force Williams into teaching him how to use 'the sticks that spit out fire and stinging things.'"

"There is another thing that, perhaps, I ought to tell you," continued Dick, in a low tone. He saw the Frenchman looking over at them just then, as though wondering what they were finding to talk about, and debating whether it might not be safer to separate the pair.

"If it's anything that will make me feel more cheerful, I hope you will lose no time in doing so," Roger hastened to say.

"Please keep from showing so much in your face then," Dick told him; "or that man may be able to read the whole story from where he sits. Act as though we were without the first ray of hope. He is a suspicious sort of man. We must try to make him believe we mean to make the best of it."

"Now tell me, Dick; I am looking as if I'd lost my last friend. What has happened? I am sure you have made some discovery."

"Oh! not so very great," replied Dick; "only that I believe I can get my hands free with very little effort."

"How does that happen?" wondered Roger; "mine are as tight as they can well be. Did that Indian favor you when he fastened us up the last time; or was it through an accident?"

"Neither one nor the other, it happens," said the second prisoner, coolly. "I remembered to swell up my wrists in a way I can do, when he was putting the thongs around them. By reducing them to the utmost, my hands are almost free, and it will take but little effort for me to free them entirely."

"And then you can set me loose, too, though I am afraid it will take you a long time to get those knots undone. It must be an Indian way of tying thongs, for I never saw its like before."

"There is a better way than that," Dick assured him. "Don't turn your head just now to look, because Lascelles is watching us like a hawk; but some time later on, when his back is this way, cast your eyes to the right, and, sticking in the tree not more than five feet away, you will see my hunting knife!"

"Oh! how came it there?" demanded Roger, watching the French trader, and ready to take advantage of the fact if Lascelles should happen to look away, even for a moment.

"I saw a brave give it a jab into the tree when he was cutting some thongs from a strip of buckskin before we were tied up; and ever since I have watched to see if any one removed it. So far, it has remained there."

The Indians had by this time settled down to take things as comfortably as conditions allowed. The fire was sending out considerable heat, and around the cheery blaze the red men squatted, each with his gaudy-colored blanket about his shoulders. Some of them were scantily clad for the wintry season, though doubtless it did not occur to them in that light, as they had become habituated to exposure.

The two boys looked at the picture presented. They would, if they were fortunate enough to live through the experience, often recall it in future days, and, it was to be hoped, under happier skies.

High the sparks soared from the fire, with the red tongues of flame jumping up as though in riotous sport. The bending tops of the neighboring pines seemed to be whispering together as though communicating the secrets of the wilderness. It was all so strange and wonderful, even after the remarkable sights they had looked on of late, that Roger asked himself whether it could be real, or only a dream.

Several of the Blackfeet had produced red clay pipes and were smoking some weed that, for all the boys could tell, may have been tobacco, cured after their own tribal fashion.

"I only wish I could put something in that stuff to make them sleep like logs until dawn," said Roger.

"They are beginning to show signs of getting drowsy," Dick assured him. "Already several have curled up in their blankets, and seem to be fast asleep. Here comes the Frenchman to take a last look at us before he follows them into dreamland."

"Oh! be careful that he may not learn of the trick you played with your bonds!" Roger whispered, in sudden alarm lest the crafty trader make a discovery that would destroy the hope they were hugging to their hearts.

"Leave that to me, for I feel sure I can deceive him, even if he tries my bonds to see how secure they are," Dick assured him.

Apparently Lascelles was very sleepy, for he yawned several times as he felt of the thongs, to see how they had been tied by the brave to whom the task had been delegated.

"Eet is too bad zat you haf to stand all ze night," he told the boys; "but eet cannot be helped. Eet is ze fortune of war. Ven boys try to play ze part of men zey must take ze good wif ze bad. In ze morning, unless ze storm delay us, we vill hope to reach ze uzzer camp, and then you see heem."

He walked away after delivering himself of these few remarks. The boys knew very well who was meant by "heem," for it could only refer to Jasper Williams.

"That sounds as if he has Jasper, sure enough," remarked Roger, when they once more were by themselves.

"Yes, and if we get away from here it must be our duty to free him. We did it once before, you remember; and what was next door to a miracle then can happen again."[5]

When another half-hour had crept around, conditions in the Indian camp had undergone a decided change. There had been no sentry set that the boys observed, and Dick had counted the Indians many times to make sure that all were around the fire. They lay sprawled in such postures as their fancy dictated. Some had their backs against the trunks of trees, while others extended themselves at full length on the ground.

One and all seemed to be sound asleep. Acting upon the advice of Dick, both of the boys had assumed an attitude calculated to deceive any one who might be sending an occasional glance in their direction, and make it appear as though they, too, had yielded to the demands of the slumber god.

"Is it time yet, Dick?" whispered Roger for the third time, when it seemed as if his blood had almost stopped circulating on account of the tight bonds, and he doubted his ability to use his legs, even if set free.

"Wait a little longer," he was told, in the same cautious tone, which, if heard at all, would be considered but the murmur of the cool night breeze in the nodding pine-tops.

The half-hour lengthened to a full one; and even this was now growing, until it must soon measure a second hour. Roger could not stand it much longer. He felt as though something within him would burst unless he could make a move of some sort.

"Listen," whispered Dick, just then, as if in answer to the silent plea, "I saw something move across on the other side of the camp. A hand seemed to gently wave to me, and it was not the hand of an Indian, either. I firmly believe Mayhew, Heaven bless him, has come back, taking his life in his hand, meaning to rescue us from the Indians."

FOOTNOTE:

[5] See "The Pioneer Boys of the Missouri."