That day passed away in the most weary and monotonous manner. Sleepless as had been the young chief’s night, he still felt no desire to close his eyes, but lay watching and thinking. Still no hopeful idea entered his head. The men were watched, he found, by their leader, who seemed to sleep so lightly that he was upon his feet the moment any of his followers moved.
Ali tried him again twice in the course of that day, but found him incorruptible; do what he would, the highest promises having no more effect than the lowest.
“No,” he said once, grimly; “if I let you escape, all you gave me would not save my life.”
“Who would dare to hurt you?” exclaimed Ali.
The man smiled sourly, and made no reply, but walked away.
That day glided by, and still no chance of escape. Food was brought, and Ali ate mechanically, feeling that he might need his strength when he did make the effort to get away; but still there seemed no chance. Walls, floor, roof, all were slight, and yet too strong for him to make any impression upon them, unless he could have had a few minutes to himself; then he would not have despaired of getting through. Sometimes he resolved to make a bold dash, run by his guards, and, leaping down by the entrance, trust to his swiftness to escape; but a few minutes’ consideration taught him that such a plan must result in failure. His only hope was to elude the men.
Why did not his father try and save him? he asked himself; and then he sank back despairing again, wondering what he should do.
Then he tried his guard again upon another tack—would he, if he would not let him escape, bear a message to the residency island?
The man replied by a stern negative; and, as night came on, Ali determined to escape at all hazards.
The next morning the party would be starting for the hunt—a hunt from which, he felt sure, they would never return. Then it was certain that a treacherous attack would be made upon the ship and the island, and yet here he lay supine, knowing all this, and yet unable to act.