"George Waters, where are you going with me?"
"To Virginia."
"Can it be that you intend to spare my life?"
"I have no occasion to take it."
The crestfallen Virginian said no more. All night long they journeyed through the forests and across plains. At dawn of day they were among the mountains. They rested and George Waters kept watch over the wounded man while he slept.
By the middle of the afternoon, they were on the march again. Mr. Martin's wounds were inflamed and sore, and he was in a fever. Next day they reached the village of some friendly Indians, and remained there two weeks, until the wounded man was able to proceed. George Waters went with him until they were in sight of a village on the upper James River.
"I can go no further, Mr. Martin," said George Waters.
"I understand," he returned, dismounting from the saddle.
"Can you make your way to those houses?"
"Yes."