Plan after plan flashed across my mind, only to be dismissed as impracticable, till, with the faintest ray of hope, I lighted on a scheme that might serve my purpose.
At length Ned Slater returned, humming a rollicking air, and with a hideous grin on his face. Stooping down, he raised the pannikin of water to his lips and took a draught with the utmost ostentation.
This done, he motioned as if to give me what remained in the vessel, but when 'twas within a few inches of my mouth he slowly and deliberately withdrew it. Twice did he offer the water, then with a steady hand he poured it on the floor, so that the liquid splashed over my bound hands.
"A curse on my clumsiness!" said he. "I must needs fill the pannikin again."
I heard the hollow sound of his footsteps retreating down the passage, but presently he returned, with the pannikin filled to the brim. Setting it down where it formerly stood, he said:
"Help yourself, you young rascal; there's plenty to spare."
Had the water been a thousand leagues off, I could not have helped myself any the less, and the villain knew it.
"Now, concerning the plan," he began, pointing to the chart which he held in his hand. "Art still of the same mind?"
"I'll tell you," I replied hoarsely; then, feigning with little effort, I began to cough and gulp as if unable to continue.
"Water!" I gasped, after a while.