No; his legs were securely tied, but the straw over his head had been taken away.
He lay perfectly still for a few minutes, thinking, and with his eyes trying in all directions to pierce the thick black darkness by which he was surrounded, but without avail.
“I wonder where I am,” he thought, as, after forcing his mind to obey his will, he went over in review all the adventures that had befallen him from the time he left the ship till he was jolting along in that donkey-cart, half-suffocated in the boat-cloak and straw.
Then there came a dead stoppage. He could get no farther. He knew he must have gone to sleep, and the probabilities were that the cart had been backed into some shed, the donkey taken out, and he had been left to finish his sleep.
“I wish I knew what time it was,” thought Hilary. “How dark it is, to be sure. I wonder where the donkey is; and—hullo! where are the sides of the cart?”
He felt about, but could touch only straw; and on stretching his hands out farther, it was with no better result.
He listened.
Not a sound.
Strained his eyes.
All was blacker than the blackest night.