THE CAPTIVES.
When Rosalind Leland felt herself seized by the savage, she fainted in the arms of her swarthy captor, and so remained for a long space of time. When she recovered, she found that she was a secure prisoner in the hands of her enemies. She was grieved to see that Zeb was a companion in captivity. She felt that, could she alone suffer, she would willingly bear it. Although acquainted with many Indians, she was unable to recognize any of those around. This, of course, was a gratification. It showed that the kindness of her parents and herself had not been lost upon them. Although the recipients of her kindness might not strive to prevent violence being done her, yet they refused to participate in it themselves.
The whole Indian force numbered about thirty. As soon as they had done all in their power, and were convinced that there were no more captives to be secured, they took up the line of march. In the course of their journey, Rosalind found that she was near enough to hold a conversation with Zeb, and after a few minutes' silence, she ventured:
"How do you feel, Zeb?"
"Bless you, missus, if dese niggers doesn't get the all-firedest walloping when I gets de chance, dey may feel glad."
"Yes, but I'm afraid that you will not get the chance very soon."
"Oh, dey daresn't kill me; fur if dey did, I'd hang ebery one ob dem."
Despite Rosalind's painful situation, she could not but smile at the earnestness of tone in which Zeb delivered himself of this. She resumed:
"Are you bound, Zeb?"
"Not much; only a dozen ropes tied around one leg, and as many round de rest ob me body."
"Oh, Zeb, don't tell such stories."
"Fact, Missus Leland. I counted 'em when dey's puttin' 'em on, and dey cut like forty, too."
"Forty-two what?" asked a gruff voice by Zeb's side, in very good English.
"Gorra mighty, who's dat?"
No answer was given.
"Who de debbil was dat?" asked Zeb, speaking to Rosalind.
She made no answer and appeared to be lost in a reverie. Zeb repeated his question but failed to elicit any reply. Muttering something to himself, he permitted her silence to remain undisturbed.
There were two horses in the party, and upon one of these Rosalind had been placed. The other was bestrode by a savage, who appeared to be the leader of the band. Zeb's hands were pinioned behind his back, and he was compelled to walk behind the horse of Rosalind, with a guard that kept a close eye upon his movements.
