ards smoked their pipes and made themselves disagreeable by
telling him about to-morrow. It seemed as though they never would go
to bed and let him alone. After a time two of them did stretch out;
they began to snore. The other sat up; smoked and smoked and talked
and talked; described to him all the ceremonies of "eating fire,"
wondered with him how long he would hold out, encouraged him to stand
the torture bravely and not forget that he once had been an Indian.

This was decidedly an aggravating old man, but John Slover answered not
a word. Nevertheless, he was suffering tortures already. He traced
the first paling of the air--token of dawn; and still the old man did
not sleep. There was no chance of escape. Did the fellow intend to
talk all night?

Ah! He had dropped his pipe; his voice drawled off; he turned upon his
side, and snored!

The air was gray; in an hour it would be daylight. John wrestled
fiercely with his tied wrists until the sweat beaded his forehead. He
writhed, as he lay; he dared make no noise, but how he did strain!

Hurrah! He had slipped one arm--his left--past the other. The blood
tingled in the numbed, swollen veins; his heart beat furiously. Then
he sank back, his heart pounding worse than ever. The old man had sat
up. Confound him! Was he going to talk again--and daylight so near?
No. He only stirred the fire, cast a sharp glance at the prisoner, and
stretched out, to snore once more.

John instantly busied himself. He clawed at the noose around his neck;
he tugged at the rope, he took a little slack, and half sitting up,
gnawed at it. But it was green buffalo-hide, as thick as his thumb,
and he might as well have gnawed wire cable. His teeth did not even
break the surface. He tugged until his fingers bled.

He sank back again, exhausted. Must he die at the stake? How light
the air was getting! "One more try," he said, to himself. He inserted
his raw fingers between the stubborn noose and his throbbing neck, and
hauled.

A miracle! It was a slip noose, with a knot in it to hold it. The
slip knot passed the other knot--his very blood and sweat had helped;
the noose widened, he ducked out of it, and was free. Now he might die
fighting, at least.

He wasted no time. The village would be astir early, eager for the
sport. Old squaws likely were about already; dogs prowling. Day was
at hand. He carefully stepped over the three figures, he glided
through th