"Where are you taking me?" questioned Henry. But the Indian would not answer and only told him to keep quiet.
It was growing morning when the small band came to a halt, at the bank of a wide stream where there was a series of rapids among the rocks. Henry was cut loose and ordered to dismount. Then he was led to a nearby tree and tied up once more.
"Will you give me a drink?" he asked of one of the Indians, but for answer the redman slapped him sharply over the mouth and told him to hold his tongue.
Suffering much from thirst and from the wound on his left hand, which had now begun to swell, Henry watched the Indians as they prepared an early morning meal, for the light of dawn was now showing in the east. A fire of very dry wood, which would give little smoke, was lighted and over this two of the redmen prepared some deer meat they had been carrying. The smell of the cooking venison was tantalizing to Henry, but he knew better than to ask for a portion of the repast. Once or twice the Indians came up to him but only to jibe at him and poke him with their guns or their bows, while one made a move with his hunting knife as if to cut out the young hunter's heart.
While the Indians were busy eating Henry tugged at his bonds with all the strength he could muster. But he was too weak, and the warriors had bound the rawhides too firmly, for the youth to budge them. He only made his wound break out afresh, and then had to stop, well-nigh exhausted with his effort.
"Getting away is out of the question," he thought, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. "They will keep a sharp watch on me until they get back to their village and then they will take great delight in torturing me in every way they can think of. Oh, what savages they are, every one of them!"
Thus musing, Henry watched the Indians eat their meal. When they had finished one warrior came to him with some of the scraps and with a cup full of dirty water.
"White hunter boy can eat," said the Indian, and untied one of his hands. It was far from an appetizing meal and was decidedly scant. But it was better than nothing, and not wishing to starve to death Henry ate all that was offered him and drank the water to the last drop. Then his loose hand was once again fastened behind him.
The Indians were now holding a consultation, sitting close to the dying embers of the fire and smoking their long-stemmed pipes. But little of what was said reached Henry's ears, yet he caught the words "big feast" and "burn at stake" spoken in the Indian tongue. At this he had to shudder in spite of every effort to control his feelings.
"I must get away!" he thought. "I must! I'm not going to allow them to burn me at the stake! It's horrible. I've heard all about old Sol Harper and Dick Waterbury, and how they suffered. I'd rather be shot. They'll—Oh!"