So the man put his feet close together, and Sunrise bound them with the thongs that had bound Dawn. “Now lie on your breast,” said Sunrise, “and cross your hands upon your back.” And he bound the hands.
Sunrise turned the man over, and after that the man kept his eyes on Sunrise, to see what he was minded to do.
For hours screams pierced the storm, and could be heard above thunder.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE LONG TRAIL
Sunrise, carrying his bow and arrows, toiled over the plain heavy with moo the recent rain. The sun shone strongly and the sky was blue. Behind him the snow capped mountains glistened in the bright light, before him a barrier of lofty forest, fresh and green, marked the termination of the plain. He was bent low to the ground, and extreme exhaustion marked his going. His hands and forearms were dark and clotted with that which was drying on them.
“If she will only live till I come,” he said, “if she will only live till I come.”
The sun blazed; the feet of the man were springless; his eyes, deep sunken, burned like red coals.
“If she will only live till I come,” he said, “if she will only live till I come.”