his face in all manner of furious contortions. The savage,
however, left him without provoking him further.

Leland was allowed to remain in his position until the savages stretched
themselves out to rest. They remained up later than usual, smoking and
recounting their deeds and boasting of the exploits they intended to
accomplish. Kent narrated some marvelous stories, which greatly excited
their wonder and admiration of him.

The time thus occupied seemed interminable to Leland, who was in a fever
of excitement and anxiety; but at last Kent stretched himself beside
him, while the other watch did the same upon the opposite side.

Still it would probably be hours before anything could be done, and
Leland was compelled to suffer the most intense and anxious impatience
for a long time. His thoughts prevented him from feeling the least
desire to sleep, and he could only worry and writhe in his helpless
position.

Kent, in arranging a place for himself beside him, bent his head to his
ear and breathed:

"Pretend to sleep."

Although this was said in less than a whisper, Leland heard the words
distinctly and prepared to follow the warning. To prevent the slightest
suspicion, he continued to groan and move for some minutes; but he
gradually ceased, and after a while settled down into a state of rest.
Soon his heavy, regular breathing would have led any one into the belief
that a heavy sleep was upon him. Not the slightest voluntary motion was
made, and Kent remarked to his brother sentinel that their captive must
be unconscious of the doom that awaited him.

A cord was fastened to Leland's wrist and then to Kent's arm, so that
the slightest movement upon the part of the former would disturb and
awake the latter should he fall asleep. The other watch, noticing this,
failed to adopt the same precaution.

For a few more minutes the savage held a conversation with Kent; but in
the course of a half-hour the answers of the latter began to grow brief
and indistinct, and finally ceased altogether; then he began to breathe
more slowly and heavily, and the savage at last believed that both guard
and prisoner were sound asleep.

When lying upon the earth at night, with no one with whom a conversation
can be held, and with nothing but the will to combat the approach of
sleep, the person is almost sure to succumb sooner or later. At any
rate, such was the case with the savage in question, and scarce an hour
had elapsed since he