"How long had you been in the woods?" Nat asked.
"Six weeks, monsieur, before the negroes found us. We had carried off some provisions with us, but these were all consumed, and we were obliged to go down to the plantation to search for food. We suppose that we were seen and followed, and the next night we were surrounded by the band you saw."
"Well, we are all very glad to have got you out of their hands, and you rendered good service when the blacks came down on us."
"We had our revenge to take," the man said, "and not one of us but would have fought until he was killed."
"You have had something to eat, I hope?"
"Yes, thank you, sir."
"You had better turn in now. I don't suppose you have had much sleep of late."
"Poor beggars," Turnbull said as the men walked away, "I wonder myself that they did not strangle each other, or hang themselves, or something. I am sure I should have done so rather than wait day after day till my turn came to be burnt alive, or to be cut to pieces gradually, or put to death by any other means of slow torture."
"Yes, Turnbull, if one were quite sure that there was no possible hope of rescue or escape; but I suppose a man never does quite give up hope. This was an example, you see, of the unlikely happening."
"What are you going to do next, Glover?"