The other Indians, eight in number, stood or sat about in silence. Not until the chief had finished his second portion and had signified, by turning the empty dish upside down on the ground, that he had had enough, did they venture to approach the kettle, each with his own bark or wooden bowl. Ohrante said something to the squat man who had been one of Hugh’s captors, pointing to the boy as he spoke. At once the man, carrying his own dish of stew, went over to the captive, seated himself cross-legged beside him, took up a piece of meat on the point of his knife and held it to Hugh’s lips. In this way he fed the lad about half the contents of the dish, reserving the rest for himself for fear the kettle might be empty. Neither the wooden dish nor the knife blade was very clean, but Hugh was too hungry to be particular. He could have eaten more, but he was thankful to get anything. Whatever the fate in store for him, he was apparently not to be starved to death. He risked asking for a drink, making signs to explain his meaning, and the Indian brought him some water from the lake in a bark cup.

Ohrante did not speak to Hugh again that night, or show any further interest in him. He was left lying bound and was not even given a blanket. Early in the evening, Ohrante retired alone to the smaller of the two wigwams, and a little later the others, all except the young fellow with the malicious grin, crowded into the larger dwelling. The young Indian, rolled in a dirty blanket, lay down on the opposite side of the fire from the prisoner.

Hugh’s arms and legs had grown so numb that he no longer felt the galling of the cords, but he was very sore and uncomfortable from lying on the hard ground. He had no wish to sleep, he was too eager to find some means of escape. If he could bring his bonds in contact with a coal from the fire, he might burn them enough so that he could pull them apart. He hitched nearer the flickering blaze and turned on his side towards it. The light was full on the face of the Indian beyond. Hugh could see that the man’s eyes were open and fixed upon him. His lips were grinning in the evil fashion the boy knew all too well.

Hugh settled himself as comfortably as he could and closed his eyes. After what seemed a long time, the deep breathing of the guard seemed to prove that he slept. The captive opened his eyes and, cautiously and with painful effort, rolled nearer to the fire. There was a low grunt from the Indian. He rose, came over to Hugh, seized him by the shoulder and roughly dragged him back from the fire. Then he passed a skin rope about the boy’s body under the arms and tied it to a strong young birch. The rope was long and did not prevent Hugh from lying down and turning from side to side, but it effectually anchored him too far from the fire to put his plan into operation. His guard had probably divined his intention. So ended the captive’s attempt to escape. There was nothing left for him but to sleep, if he could, and gather strength and courage for whatever the morrow might bring. It was long before he slept, however, and the discomfort of his position waked him frequently. At last the chill of early dawn refused to let him sleep longer.

He had not long to wait before the camp was stirring. The man with the scarlet head band set about preparing a breakfast of boiled fish. Hugh’s guard of the night took his gun and went away somewhere. Breakfast was eaten at sunrise, and this time Hugh’s hands were unbound that he might feed himself, but he was left tied to the tree. It was some time before the numbness wore off so that he could use his hands freely. His first attempts to manage his food amused the Indians, and the boy felt the blood rise to his cheeks at their grins and unintelligible gibes.

Breakfast was over when the young fellow with the grin returned. He talked with Ohrante, and afterwards the chief came over to Hugh and began to ask questions. Again the boy was almost moved to mirth at the contrast between the giant’s appearance and his voice. As Ohrante went on with his questioning, however, Hugh almost forgot the ludicrous voice. His replies kept his wits busy. The Iroquois wanted to know whether Hugh trapped for himself or traded with others for furs, whether he sold to the Old Company or to the New, where he intended to winter and other particulars. Hugh had believed that he had his story well planned, but several of the questions were unforeseen, and he was obliged to think quickly and invent as he replied. Telling a false tale was not such a simple matter this morning, and he was not at all sure that he made his convincing. After Ohrante turned away, Hugh was left wondering if his answers had allayed the giant’s suspicions or aroused them.

XXV
THE CHIEF OF MINONG

Hugh had expected to learn his fate that morning and had braced himself for the ordeal, but Ohrante paid no further attention to him. With six of his band the Iroquois left the camp. From where he sat propped against the birch trunk, Hugh could see the two canoes start up the bay. His wrists had been bound again and he was tied to the tree. The squat man and the ugly fellow with the scarlet head band, who had remained to guard the captive, evidently considered him so secure that he did not need close watching. Shortly after the canoe had disappeared, both men went off somewhere out of sight and hearing.

Now was his chance, thought Hugh, if he could only find some way to loose his bonds. He pulled and wriggled and twisted, but to no avail. His captors had done their work too well. His struggles only drew the knots tighter. He sank back inert and disheartened.

“Take heart.”