“If he got away maybe he will bring somebody to rescue me,” thought the youth, but hour after hour went by, and nobody came near the camp.
Fortunately for Henry, the weather was exceedingly mild, so that he suffered little from the cold. He tried several times to question the Indians, but they understood little English and were not inclined to answer the questions he put. One slapped him in the face and another put a handful of soft snow down his back. Then they went away, to talk among themselves, leaving him alone.
He tried with might and main to either slip or break the bonds which bound him, but with no success. He looked around for some other means of getting away, but nothing presented itself.
Soon after consulting among themselves, some of the Indians went away, leaving only one red man on guard. This fellow, a warrior with a visage horribly pitted from smallpox, and a squint in one eye, wrapped himself in his blanket and sat down on a log, his bow and arrows across his knees.
A half-hour slipped by and the Indian dropped into a doze. Henry watched him with interest, and a little later saw that the warrior was fast asleep.
“Now, if only I could break these bonds and get away!” sighed the youth to himself.
Once again he went at the rawhide, but all he could do was to cut his wrists. At last he gave up in despair.
The other Indians came back soon after this, bringing some additional warriors with them. One could speak English, and he questioned Henry closely about himself and about those at the trading post.
“Let me go and I will reward you well,” said Henry, after he saw that the red men had no intention of giving him his liberty.
Instead of agreeing to this, the Indian asked the youth about Jean Bevoir and Moon Eye. Then Henry was left once again to himself, while two Indians went off on a run,—to interview the French trader, as it afterwards proved.