"You made a promise. Do you or do you not intend to be bound by it?" asked Bright-eye.
"This is your return for my hospitality."
"You are unjust, sir; we are but the instruments of public opinion, about to accomplish a painful duty, guided by our conscience and our sense of right. Do you give this man up to us, yes or no?" he continued.
"Take him, if you insist; but as on your private authority you judge this man, I will defend him."
"We are delighted to hear it."
"When do you intend trying this man who is dangerously wounded and nearly insensible?"
"He is not so ill as he pretends to be," replied Bright-eye; "and we intend trying him at once."
"Come, then, for the matter is getting wearisome," said George.
All returned to the house. Oliver and Numank had not spoken, but their firm step, their knitted brows, their flashing eyes, sufficiently indicated that they fully agreed with Bright-eye in his intentions.
When they entered the room where the wounded man lay he was quite conscious; his face, of an earthy pallor, had two red spots on the cheeks; the pearly sweat fell heavily from his brow; his eyes were half closed, but he could clearly see through his lashes. His attitude was that of a tiger at bay, unaware from what side danger was likely to come.