After a time he said curtly to me:
"Keep a lookout on either side, lad, for some of the snakes may grow careless, an' you will get a shot."
Then he fell to pacing to and fro again, and after what seemed a very long time of most painful silence, said to me as if announcing the most commonplace fact:
"I count on lendin' a hand to those poor fellows yonder."
"Lending a hand!" I repeated in amazement. "Haven't you declared it was impossible to leave this house without being shot down?"
"Yes, an' I reckon that comes pretty near being the truth."
"Then how may you give them any assistance?"
"I am not countin' on tryin' to do anything just now. There's like to be plenty of time, for unless something happens to interrupt the curs, they will not torture the prisoners until evening. When the sun goes down I shall creep out."
"And then is the time when the Indians will keep a closer watch," I ventured to say.
"Ay, lad, you are right, and yet we must contrive to outwit them. Instead of openin' the door, I'll make my way through the small window at the rear, which can be the better guarded by you and your mother while the shutter is unfastened."