"Eat and drink," said Apukwa coldly, as soon as Walter became silent; "for we are going to tie thee. We must hunt the deer, we must grind the corn--we cannot watch thee every day, till the time of the sacrifice comes. Eat and drink, then; for here are the thongs."
Walter glared at him for a moment, and then snatched up a gourd filled with water, which the brother of the Snake had brought, and drained it with a long and eager draught. He then cast it from him, and stood still and stern before them, saying,--
"I will disappoint you. Henceforth I will eat no more. Tie me if you will. I can fast as well as you Indians."
The two men looked in each other's faces, apparently puzzled how to act; for, if he kept his resolution, their object would, indeed, be frustrated. The death of their kinsman, according to their superstition, required blood; and by starvation the prisoner would escape from their hands. Still, they dared not disobey the decision of the chiefs.
A slight sign seemed to pass between them; and, taking hold of the poor lad somewhat roughly, they bound both his hands and feet, twining the stout thongs of deer-skin round and round, and through and through, in what seemed inextricable knots. He stood quite still and passive; and, when they had done, cast himself down upon the ground again, turning his face from them. The two men gazed at him for a moment or two, and then, leaving the hut in silence, replaced the bar.
For some time after they were gone, Walter lay just as he had fallen. The dead apathy of despair had taken possession of him; life, thought, feeling, were a burden. The many days which had passed in that dull, dark, silent abode were rapidly producing on his mind that effect which solitary confinement is said too often to occasion. The transition is easy from anxiety, grief, fear, through melancholy and gloom, to despair and madness. Oh, man, never shut out hope from thy fellow-creature! or, if it must be so--if crime requires relentless punishment--then, whatever a false philanthropy would say, give thou death when thou takest away this world's hope, for then thou openest the gate of the grave to a brighter light than that which is extinguished. The All-seeing Eye beams with mercy as well as light.
He lay in that death-like stillness for several hours; and there came not a sound of any kind during all that time, to relieve the black monotony of the day. His ear, by suffering, had been rendered painfully acute; but the snow fell noiselessly; the wild animals were in their coverts or in their dens; the very wind had no breath.
Suddenly there was a sound. What was it? It seemed like a cracking branch far up above his head. Then a stone rolled down and rattled over the bark roof, making the snow slip before it. Another crashing branch, and then a silence, which seemed to him to last for hours.
"Some panther or catamount," he thought, "in the trees above." And he laid his half-raised head down again upon the ground.
No! There were fingers on the bar. He heard it move. Had the Indians come back to urge the food upon him? The touch upon the bar, however, seemed feeble, compared with theirs. It lifted the heavy log of wood slowly, and with difficulty. Walter's heart beat--visions came over his mind--hope flickered up; and he raised himself as well as he could into a sitting posture. From the ground he could not rise, for his hands were tied.