"Thar yo' un can see what yo' un are coming to," one said, grinning at Lawrence. "How do yo' un like it?"
Lawrence made no answer, and with a curse and a growl the guerrillas turned away.
Lawrence was now placed on the horse that had been ridden by the corporal, his hands tied behind him and his feet securely bound beneath the horse on which he rode. One of the guerrillas tied the halter of the horse to the saddle of the one he rode, and they started for the secret rendezvous of the gang. It was long after nightfall before they reached it.
Captain Lamar and most of the gang were found to be away, so supperless and bound, Lawrence was placed under a tree to await the morning.
The cords with which he was bound cut into his flesh and he was parched with thirst. He asked for water, but a curse was the only answer.
There throughout the rest of the night Lawrence lay, the stars looking pityingly down upon him. He could not sleep, his sufferings were too great, and there was the uncertainty of the morrow. What would the end be?
All his life passed before his mental vision in a panoramic vision. He lived it all over again.
Morning came, but Captain Lamar and the rest of the gang had not yet returned. He was given some breakfast, but taunted with the fact that it would be his last meal on earth. Better than the food was the water which cooled his parched mouth and tongue. No nectar that ever flowed tasted half so sweet.
About nine o'clock Captain Lamar came. He was in a towering rage, for his expedition had failed and he had lost two men.
When told two of his men had killed a Yankee and captured a Yankee captain, he asked what had been done with the captain.