onds came
back, peeping about him inquiringly, examining our ropes, and looking
about our feet for some minutes before going back, carefully scanning
the ground and bushes as he went, and after a good deal of hesitation
reseating himself.

By this time I was utterly wearied out, and hung forward from the rope
with my head upon my chest, gazing down hopelessly at the thick moss and
other growth at our feet.

"Mass' George 'leep?" whispered Pomp again.

"No, no," I said, sadly; "I could not sleep at a time like this."

"'Cause Mass' George no go to sleep."

I looked at him despondently, and saw that he was amusing himself by
picking the moss and leaves with his toes, getting a tuft together,
snatching it off, and dropping it again, almost as cleverly as a monkey
would have done the same thing.

Then I ceased to notice it, for I saw a couple of the Indians get up
from the fireside, and come to examine us again. They felt all the
knots, and appeared satisfied, going back to the fire as before, while
others threw on fresh sticks. Then the smoking and talking went on, and
the flames cast their shadows about, and on the trees now in a
peculiarly weird way.

We were almost in darkness, but they were in what seemed to be a circle
or great halo of red light, which shone upon their copper-coloured
skins, and from the axes and the hilts of the knives they had stuck in
the bands of their deer-skin leggings.

"Soon be quite dark now, Mass' George," whispered Pomp; "den you see."

"See? See what? Their fire?"

"Wait bit--you see."

My heart gave a great throb, and I wanted to speak, but the words in my
agitation would not come. It was evident that the boy had some plan
afoot, and as I waited for him to speak again, feeling ashamed that this
poor black savage lad should be keener of intellect than I, he suddenly
began to laugh.

"Pomp," I whispered, "what is it?"

"You mose ready, Mass' George?"

"Ready? What for?"

"You see dreckerly. You know what dat Injum look about for?"

"No."

"Lose um knife."

"Well?"

"Pomp got um."

"You have? Where?"

"Down dah," he said, making a sign with one foot toward the loose moss
and leaves he had picked.

"Why, Pomp," I whispered, joyfully, "how did you manage that?"

"Ciss! Coming."

Two of the Indians had risen again from the fire, and once more
approached, feeling the knots, and to my despair, binding us more
securely with a couple of fresh ropes of hid