“Oh! Sneak, I mean I’m ruined, lost for ever! Oh! St. Peter, pity my helpless condition!”
“Don’t think about pity now,” said Sneak; “nothing of that sort is going to do us any good. We must git loose from these trees and run for it, or we’ll be roasted like wild turkeys in less than an hour. I’ve got one hand loose!”.
“So have I almost!” cried Joe, struggling violently.
“One of ’em’s coming!—shove your hand back, and pertend like you’re fast, till he goes away agin!” said Sneak, in a hurried undertone.
The savage emerged from the bushes the next moment, and after depositing an armful of billets of wood at the feet of Joe, and walking round behind the prisoners to see if they were still secure, returned for more fuel.
“Now work for your life!” said Sneak, extricating his wrist from the cord, and striving to get his feet loose.
“Hang it, Sneak, I can’t get my hand out, though the string’s quite loose! Make haste, Sneak, and come and help me,” said Joe, in a tone that indicated his earnestness.
“Let every man look out for himself,” replied Sneak, tugging away at the cord that bound his feet to the tree.
“Oh, Sneak, don’t leave me here, to be burnt by myself!” said Joe.
“You wouldn’t promise to give any thing to ransom me, a while ago—I’ll cut stick as quick as I kin.”