It was in the midst of a fearful dream of tomahawks, scalping-knives, Indians and murders, that he was awakened by a grasp upon his arm. Believing resistance to be useless, he lay motionless, waiting for the command of his captors.
"If you've no objection, I should like to inquire whether you are not about through with your nap?" inquired the well-known voice of Hezekiah Smith.
CHAPTER VIII.
STILL ON THE ISLAND.
The dull, grey light that now began to overspread the sky, gave token of the coming day, and the three whites withdrew further into the grove for consultation.
"This is a bad business," remarked Waring, after he had exchanged experiences with his friends. "The infernal devils have outwitted us at last. God knows what will become of Virginia. Her poor father is already dead!"
"Yes, we have seen him," said Hezekiah, with a shudder at the remembrance of the awful scene. "He isn't a dozen rods away from us."
"Let us give him a decent burial," added Waring. "We can find some means to scoop out a grave for him."