“I am sorry for the poor fellow,” thought Tom. “I wonder what’s the matter with him.”
Probably his face expressed his sympathy, and the Indian boy read it as he once more looked toward the young captive, so near his own age. The pain seemed to pass and he became more tranquil, but still his dark eyes were open, and it did not seem likely that he would soon fall asleep.
“I must give up all thoughts of escaping,” thought Tom, “while the boy is awake.”
He fell asleep again after awhile, and did not awake till he was shaken roughly by one of the Indians.
Morning had come, though on that wintry day the tardy sun had not yet risen.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
TOM’S DEADLY PERIL.
THE THREE captives, on awakening, regarded their captors with looks of anxiety. They tried to read their fate in those dusky faces, but in vain.
There was a little conversation between the chief and an elderly Indian, who proved to be an interpreter, having a fair knowledge of the English language for an Indian, and then the latter approached our three friends.
He singled out Dr. Spooner as the supposed head of the party, and to him addressed himself.