One of the boats belonging to the Bunting was now carried to the rear, and on his back across the thwarts, still bound, Harry was placed. Dry wood was piled beneath him. Dry wood was piled all round the boat.
He shut his eyes and commended himself to Heaven. Even then he thought of his poor father and mother far away in their bonnie Highland home, and he prayed that they might never know the fate that had befallen him.
The Indians formed themselves into a fiendish circle, and danced, yelling, around him, brandishing sword and spear.
But the dark Arab commanded silence.
“Your hour has come,” he said, solemnly.
“This,” he added, “is justice, not revenge.”
Note 1. What is called sherbet on the Eastern shore of Africa is a fruit syrup of most delicious flavour and odour. It is mixed with water and drunk as a beverage. Certainly a great improvement on the eau sucre of our ancestors.