at he began to wake
from his lethargy, and question himself whether he might not yet escape,
and, flying to the nearest settlements for assistance, strike a blow for
the recovery of his kinswoman. Weak from exhaustion and wounds, entirely
unarmed, and closely watched, as he perceived he was, by the young
warriors, notwithstanding their affected friendship, it was plain that
nothing could be hoped for, except from caution on his part, and the most
besotted folly on that of his captors. This folly was already made
perceptible in at least one of the party; and as he watched the
oft-repeated visitations of the senior to the little keg, he began to
anticipate the period when the young men should also betake themselves to
the stupefying draught, and give him the opportunity he longed for with
frantic, though concealed, impatience. This hope fell when the cask was
dashed to pieces; but hope, once excited, did not easily forsake him. He
had heard, and read, of escapes, made by captives like himself, from
Indians, when encamped by night in the woods,--nay, of escapes made when
the number of captors and the feebleness of the captive (for even women
and boys had thus obtained their deliverance), rendered the condition of
the latter still more wretched than his own. Why might not _he_, a man
and soldier, guarded by only three foemen, succeed, as others had
succeeded, in freeing himself?

This question, asked over and over again, and each time answered with
greater hope and animation than before, employed his mind until his wary
captors had tied him to the stakes, as has been mentioned, leaving him as
incapable of motion as if every limb had been solidified into stone. Had
the barbarians been able to look into his soul at the moment when he
first strove to test the strength of the ligatures, and found them
resisting his efforts like bands of brass, they would have beheld deeper
and wilder tortures than any they could hope to inflict, ever, at the
stake. The effort was repeated once, twice, thrice--a thousand
times,--but always in vain: the cords were too securely tied, the stakes
too carefully placed, to yield to his puny struggles. He was a prisoner
in reality,--without resource, without help, without hope.

And thus he passed the whole of the bitter night, watching the slow
progress of moments counted only by the throbbings of his fevered
temples, the deep breathings of the Indians, and the motion of the
stars creeping over the v