had become so benumbed in consequence of the
cords by which they had been compressed that for some time he could not
move.

"I'll rub ye, Joe--I'll soon rub ye into a right state," said Dick,
going down on his knees.

"No, no, lad, look sharp and dig up Henri. He's just beside me here."

Dick immediately rose, and, pushing aside the heap of leaves, found
Henri securely bound in the same fashion. But he could scarce refrain
from laughing at the expression of that worthy's face. Hearing the
voices of Joe and Dick Varley in conversation, though unable to see
their persons, he was filled with such unbounded amazement that his
eyes, when uncovered, were found to be at their largest possible
stretch, and as for the eyebrows, they were gone, utterly lost among the
roots of his voluminous hair.

"Henri, friend, I knew I should find ye," said Dick, cutting the thongs
that bound him. "Get up if ye can, we haven't much time to lose, an'
mayhap we'll have to fight afore we're done wi' the Red-skins. Can ye
rise?"

Henri could do nothing but lie on his back and gasp, "Eh! possible! mon
frere! Oh, non, non, _not_ possible. Oui! my broder Deek!"

Here he attempted to rise, but, being unable, fell back again, and the
whole thing came so suddenly, and made so deep an impression on his
impulsive mind, that he incontinently burst into tears; then he burst
into a long laugh. Suddenly he paused, and, scrambling up to a sitting
posture, looked earnestly into Dick's face through his tearful eyes.

"Oh, non, non!" he exclaimed, stretching himself out at full length
again, and closing his eyes; "it are too goot to be true. I am dream.
I vill wait till I am wake."

Dick roused him out of this resolute sleep, however, somewhat roughly.
Meanwhile Joe had rubbed and kicked himself into a state of animation,
exclaiming that he felt as if he wos walkin' on a thousand needles and
pins, and in a few minutes they were ready to accompany their overjoyed
deliverer back to the Peigan camp. Crusoe testified his delight in
various elephantine gambols round the persons of his old friends, who
were not slow to acknowledge his services.

"They haven't treated us overly well," remarked Joe Blunt, as they
strode through the underwood.

"Non, de rascale, vraiment, de am villains. Oui! How de have talk,
too, 'bout--oh-o-oo-ooo-wah!--roastin' us alive, an' puttin' our scalp
in de vigvam for de poopoose to play wid!"

"Well, niver mind, Henr