od. Then he was quickly asleep.

Now I strove to pull myself together, and with an effort rallied my
shaken nerves. What was to be done? Not many hours of the night could
there be left. Could I free myself? My feet were not bound. Could I
not rise and, stepping lightly through the sleeping forms, gain the
outside and run for it? But this idea occurred only to be dismissed.
Unaided and without the use of my hands I could hardly climb down from
the place without meeting with a bad fall in the attempt. If I could
but loosen the bonds!

As to this I had been tied up securely, yet not tightly or painfully,
consequently felt little or no cramping sensation. Now after a few
minutes of careful working I managed to get my right hand free of the
lower coil of the thong. But no further could I get it because of a
loop, and this held the wrist firmly. I strained and tugged till every
muscle and joint seemed cracking, and my brain bursting, but--no
yielding. Then I paused to rest, and think out some other plan.

The fire was now a heap of smouldering red ashes, so that the place was
almost in darkness, which, though favouring my efforts, was all against
me should these meet with success. Then I would want a little light, or
was in danger of stumbling over one of the sleepers. Could I once free
myself and avoid this, my chances were fair, for Kaffirs are heavy
sleepers, and I might gain quite a good start.

But that English-speaking villain seemed possessed with a very demon of
unrest, for just then he got up and went over to the fire, trying to
blow it into a flame while he spread his black crooked claws over it for
warmth. At last he returned to my proximity, and after a good look at
me, he lay down again.

All this had taken some while, and it was a good deal longer before I
could make even the smallest move; and meanwhile time--precious time--
was creeping on. But during it I had been thinking, and thinking hard.
In the right hand pocket of my shooting-coat was a knife--a very
ordinary pocket-knife--which the rascals must have overlooked in their
eagerness to possess themselves of my cartridges. I knew it was there
still, for I could feel it. And my right hand, partially freed, could
all but reach it.

I tugged and tugged. All to no purpose. The _reim_ would not stretch a
quarter of an inch further. Then it occurred to me that if I could not
get my hand to my pocket, I might still get my pocket to my ha