“All right, blackie,” said one of the prisoners; “don’t shoot. Good-night, boys. I’m going to sleep.”
Just at that moment Nic started, for there was a snuffling noise close to him, the leaves rustled, and he felt the hot breath of one of the dogs on his face.
But it was a friendly visit, for the great brute turned round two or three times to trample down the dense bed of leaves, and settled itself into a comfortable curve, with its big head upon the poor fellow’s chest, making Nic wonder whether it was the dog which had been friendly before.
He risked it: raising his hand, he laid it gently between the animal’s soft ears, and there was a low muttering sound that was a big sigh of satisfaction, not a growl; and Nic felt as if the companionship of the dog was pleasant in his terrible loneliness and despair. It was warm and soothing, too, and seemed like the beginning of something hopeful—he knew not what. Then he began to think of home, and a sensation of prayerful thankfulness came over him as he felt that his head was growing clearer. The next minute all trouble, pain, and weariness were forgotten in a deep and dreamless sleep.
Chapter Twenty Two.
Reaching the Plantation.
A deep growl and a loud burst of barking roused Nic Revel from his deep sleep, free from fever, calm and refreshed, to lie listening to the dogs, wondering what it all meant.
The sun was up, and horizontal rays were streaming in between ill-fitting boards and holes from which knots had fallen consequent upon the shrinking of the wood. There was a feeling of cool freshness in the air, too, that was exhilarating; but for a few moments Nic could not make out where he was.