“I advise yer not ter pry into that,” David said, at length, in a decided manner; “ye’ll find out soon enough about it. Ye may think ye’re safe, now ye’ve got us two; I hope ye do; but ye kin remember what I told ye, an’ when yer last hour’s come, I hope ye’ll find yer conscience free, and go without any sorrow for what ye’ve done.”
The renegade turned and walked away, for he could not bear to hear such language, it touched him in a vulnerable spot. He came back, however, and added, in a tone of intense determination:
“Ye kin have the rest o’ the night to say yer prayers in; for when the sun gits up to-morrow mornin’, ye’ll come out, Davy Barring, and ye never’ll see that sun set again.”
Going to the door he called two of the Indian guards within, bidding them to keep a strict watch over the prisoners till morning.
* * * * * * * *
Morning came at length. The prisoners had conversed most of the night, having slept but very little after the departure of Ashbey. A commotion without the door was audible, and each looked with expectation.
“Are they coming?” asked Alfred, apprehensively.
“So it seems,” replied the scout. “I suppose they think I have lived long enough, and if it must come, I know not that it matters how soon.”
“Oh, my friend!” Alfred began, but his emotion choked him, and he could proceed no further.
“Be a man!” the scout returned. “If they are ready for me, I am prepared. Keep up courage; I may sarcumvent the serpents after all.”