s he spoke, but his own hands
refused obedience to his will. They had been so long and so tightly
bound that they were utterly powerless.

"Rub 'em, rub 'em well," said Gibault, seizing the artist's hands and
enforcing his own recommendation vigorously.

"Ay, that's it," said Redhand, who, with his companions, had, the
instant he was loose, commenced to rub and chafe his own benumbed limbs
into vitality, as if his life and theirs depended on their exertions--as
indeed they did to no small extent, for, had they been called upon to
fight or fly at that moment, they could have done neither.

"Now, lads," said Bounce, who, having been a prisoner for but a short
time, was unhurt by his bonds, "while ye rub the life into yer limbs
I'll tell ye wot we must do. Them scamps (pointing to the prostrate
Indians) won't lie there long. Of course, bein' white men an'
Christians, we don't mean to kill them or to lift their scalps--"

"I've know'd white men," interrupted Redhand, "who called themselves
Christians, and didn't object to take scalps when they got the chance."

"So have I," returned Bounce, "an' more's the pity. It's sichlike
blackguards as these that keeps honest trappers and fur-traders for iver
in hot water here. Howsomdiver, we're not a-goin' to turn ourselves
into brute beasts 'cause they've turned theirselves into sich."

"I'm not so sure o' that," broke in Big Waller, casting a scowling
glance on the savages as he surveyed a wound in his left arm, which,
although not serious, was, from want of dressing, sufficiently painful;
"I calc'late it would serve them reptiles right if we was to whangskiver
the whole on 'em as they lie."

"I don't b'lieve," retorted Bounce, "that `_whangskiver_' is either
English, Injun, French, or Yankee; but if it means _killin'_, you'll do
nothing o' the sort. Here's what we'll do. We'll ketch as many horses
as wos took from Mr Bertram's fellers, an' as many guns too (the same
ones if we can lay hands on 'em), an' as much powder an' shot an' other
things as that keg o' brandy is worth, an' then we'll bid the redskins
good-bye without wakenin' of 'em up."

"Goot," ejaculated Gibault, pausing in his manipulation of the artist,
"now you can do!"

"Capital; thanks, I feel quite strong again."

"I say, Gibault," observed March ruefully, "they've almost sawed through
the skin o' my ankle. I've no left foot at all, as far as feelin'
goes."

"Hah! me boy, 'tis well you have foot