“Can’t we untie each other’s hands?” suggested Jefferson Arnold.
“I’m afraid it can’t be done,” was Nick’s reply. “The knots are too firm, and they are all behind us. No, all we can do is to wait. There is one thing not to be forgotten, and it may be of considerable help to us.”
“What’s that?” asked Chick.
“We all have our pistols and some cartridges in our pockets. They did not seem to think of them when they took our rifles.”
“If I had my spear, I should not want anything else,” lamented Jai Singh.
“So we can have one good fight before the end comes,” continued Nick. “If I don’t drive a few holes into Calaman, it will be because all my cartridges miss fire.”
Patsy Garvan chuckled in the darkness. It was seldom that his chief made such threats. It told Patsy that there would be action after a while.
It was about half an hour afterward when the door opened, showing half a dozen men in the vestments of the priesthood.
Some carried lanterns, while others bore dishes of fruit and meat and wine in great flagons.
These they set upon the one rough table that was in the prison. Then two of them loosened a hand each of the prisoners, so that they could help themselves to food and drink, while behind each stood a tall priest, with drawn sword, ready to strike at the first sign of resistance.