"God grant we may be in time to save them."
It was not till after a length of time, and with infinite trouble, that they succeeded in raising the trap, and then a horrid spectacle presented itself.
In a cellar exhaling a fetid odour, a score of individuals were literally piled up one upon another.
The hunters could not repress a movement of terror, and drew back in spite of themselves; but they immediately—returned to the edge of the cellar, to endeavour, if there were yet time, to save some of those unhappy victims.
Of all these men, one alone showed signs of life; all the rest were dead.
They dragged him out, laid him gently on a heap of dry leaves, and gave him every assistance in their power.
The dogs licked the hands and face of the wounded man.
At the end of a few minutes the man made a slight movement, opened his eyes several times, and then breathed a profound sigh.
Belhumeur introduced between his clenched teeth the mouth of a leathern bottle filled with rum, and obliged him to swallow a few drops of the liquor.
"He is very bad," said the hunter.