“Yes, certainly!” answered Jim, now beginning to regret that he had not tendered their submission before it might be too late.
“Then why do they not come and relieve us?” asked Terence in a whisper, hoarse from despair.
Jim vouchsafed no answer, and the Krooman seemed in too much mental and bodily anguish to heed what had been said.
Shortly after, Jim could hear the flocks being driven out of the town, and looking through a small opening in the wall of the penn, he could see some of the Arabs going out towards the barley-fields.
Could it be that he had been mistaken; that the Arabs were going to apply the screw of starvation for another day? Alarmed by this conjecture, he strove to hail them, and bring them back, but the effort only resulted in a hoarse whisper.
“May God forgive me!” thought he. “My brother, as well as all the others, will die before night! I have murdered them, and perhaps myself!”
Driven frantic with the thought, frenzy furnished him with the will and strength to speak out.
His voice could now be heard; for the walls of the stone building rang with the shouts of a madman.
He assailed the door with such force that the structure gave way, and Jim rushed out, prepared to make any promises or terms with their masters, to save the lives he had endangered by his obstinacy.
His submission was not required, for on looking out, two men and three or four boys were seen coming towards the penn, bearing bowls of water, and dishes filled with barley-gruel.