torture.

We knew nothing of Desiree's fate. Harry had not seen her since he had
been crushed to the floor by that last assault. And instead of fearing
for her life, we were convinced that a still more horrible doom was to
be hers, and hoped only that she would find the means to avoid it by
the only possible course.

I have said that we again found ourselves in darkness, but it was much
less profound than it had been before. We could distinctly see the
four walls of the cavern in which we lay; it was about twelve feet by
twenty, and the ceiling was very low. The ground was damp and cold,
and we had neither ponchos nor jackets to protect us.

A description of our state of mind as we lay exhausted, wounded, and
bound so tightly that any movement was impossible, would seem to betray
a weakness. Perhaps it was so; but we prayed for the end--Harry with
curses and oaths, myself in silence. There is a time when misery
becomes so acute that a man wants only deliverance and gives no thought
to the means.

That was reaction, and gradually it lessened. And when, after we had
lain unconscious for many hours (we can hardly be said to have slept)
they came to bathe our wounds and bruises and bring us food and drink,
the water was actually grateful to our hot, suffering flesh, and we ate
almost with relish. But before they left they again bound our wrists
firmly behind us, and tightened the cords on our ankles.

If they meditated punishment they certainly seemed to be in no hurry
about it. The hours passed endlessly by. We were cared for as
tenderly as though we had been wounded comrades instead of vanquished
foes, and though we were allowed to remain on the damp, hard rock of
the cavern, we gradually recovered from the effects of that gruesome
struggle in the doorway, and our suffering bodies began to feel
comparative comfort.

"What the deuce are they waiting for?" Harry growled, after one of
their visits with food and water. "Why don't they end it?"

"Most likely because a well man can appreciate torture better than a
sick one," I answered, not having seen fit to speak of it before. "You
may be sure we'll get all that's coming to us."

"But what will they do?"

"Heaven knows. They are capable of anything. We'll get the worst."

There was a silence; then Harry said slowly, hesitating:

"Paul--do you think--Desiree--"

"I don't think--I dare not think about her," I interrupted. "And it is
our fault; we