With the philosophy of a stoic he threw himself upon the ground, and also fell asleep.
He awoke once in the night to find that his guard had been changed. There was no better prospect of freedom than before.
“Dura them! they’re bound to fix me, I kin see that plain enough. Besides, with these ’tarnal all-fired thongs cuttin’ into my elbows, what could I do?”
Apparently nothing, for with a muttered curse at his own stupidity, he again composed himself to slumber.
With the dawn of morning Cris Carrol and his captors continued their journey.
They made no other halt before reaching the town.
Carrol in vain tried to draw from them the reason of their unexpected presence at so great a distance from the residence of the tribe.
They gave him no satisfaction.
He discovered, however, that whatever errand they had been sent on, they had failed in accomplishing it, and his own capture began to be considered by him as a peace offering with which they intended to mollify Wacora’s wrath at their want of success in the mission with which they had been charged.
“Wal,” reflected he, “I suppose I’m in some poor devil’s place; perhaps I mout take more pleasure in doing him this good turn if I only knowed who he is. No doubt he’s got some folks as ’ud grieve over him, but there ain’t a many as will fret over Cris Carrol, not as I know on—yes, all right! go ahead. Let’s go whar glory waits us, ye catawampous scamps, you. Ah! four to one; if it had been two to one, or, at a pinch, three to one, I’d have tried it on, if it had cost me all I’ve got, and that’s my life—yah! it’s almost enough to make one turn storekeeper to think on’t.”