Nic drew a deep breath through his teeth, as he lay there in the hot, oppressive darkness. They were not going, then. It was the way with a man of Pete’s class to pick a quarrel upon some other subject when he wanted to find an excuse and back out of an arrangement.
“Ay, you had a narrow escape on it,” said one of the men surlily. “Old Humpy was pretty nigh going to the gaffer to-day.”
“It’s all over,” thought Nic, as a feeling of bitterness ran through him. Only four-and-twenty hours earlier he had been ready to give up and accept his position. Then Pete had touched the right chord in his nature, and roused him up to a readiness to run any risk, and make a brave dash for liberty; while now the man seemed to have shrunk back into his shell, and to be completely giving up just when the call was about to be made upon his energies.
At another time Nic might have argued differently; but, strung up as he had been, his companion’s surly indifference was crushing, and it seemed that the wild, exciting adventures of the night were to give place to a cowardly, sordid sleep.
“If anything big is to be done, one must depend upon one’s-self,” thought Nic at last; and, angry with the whole world, bitter at his own helplessness, as he felt how mad it would be to attempt the venture alone, he turned over in his bunk, throwing out one hand in the movement, and it came in contact with Pete’s, to be gripped fast.
In an instant the blood was dancing through his veins, and a choking sensation as of impending suffocation troubled him; the arteries in his temples beat painfully, and he lay breathing hard.
For it was to be after all, and this conduct was his companion’s way of showing him that it was better to lie in silence, waiting till the time arrived for commencing their task.
Nic lay there listening to the low murmur of his fellow-prisoners’ voices and the chorus of strange sounds from the forest and river; and in the stillness of the night, every now and then, a faint splash came plainly to where he lay, sending a thrill through him, as he thought that, if all went well, before very long he might be swimming across the river, running the gauntlet of the horrible-looking reptiles, and his left hand stole down to his belt to grasp the handle of the sharpened knife, while he wondered whether the skin of the alligators would be horny or tough enough to turn the point.
How long, how long it seemed before all was perfectly still in the long, low shed, and not a sound could be heard outside but the faint humming noise made by the black sentry!
Then all at once there were steps.