CHAPTER XII
THE CAPTIVE'S RISE
Will did not know just how long they had been traveling, having lost count of the days, but he knew they had come an immense distance, perhaps a thousand miles, maybe more, because the hardy Indian ponies always went at a good pace, and he felt that the distance between him and every white settlement must be vast.
The sun at first hurt the eyes that had been bandaged so long in daylight, but as the optic nerves grew less sensitive and they could take in all the splendor of the world, he had never before seen it so beautiful. He was like one really and truly blind for years who had suddenly recovered his sight. Everything was magnified, made more vivid, more intense, and his joy, captive though he was, was so keen that he could not keep from showing it.
"You find it pleasant to live," said Heraka.
"Yes," replied the lad frankly, "I don't mind admitting to you that I like living. And I like seeing, too, in the bright sunshine, when I've been so long without it. You warned me, Heraka, that I would not know my fate, nor whence nor when it might come, but instinct tells me that it's not coming yet, and as one who can see again I mean to enjoy the bright days."
"Wayaka is but a youth. If he were older he would fear more."