The fire was wreathing and twining around the trunk of the tree, the inside of which was every moment growing hotter.
"Ay, ay," moaned Turk, despondingly, "we are all a-goin' to be baked alive, as if we were two clams instead of humanized bein's!"
Hotter became the seamen's narrow quarters every moment. Tongues of flames were now seen creeping through crevices in the trunk.
The sap oozed with a hiss like a serpent's, while the smoke entering the hollow, almost suffocated the occupants.
Heated, almost blinded, their flesh scorched, the sufferings of the twain were becoming fearful.
In the lurid glare each could see the eyeballs of the other rolling wildly in his head, and hear his panting breath drawn with difficulty.
"This is intolerable!" gasped Harry; "would that the rascals would spear us, and thus at once put an end to our torment."
There seemed, however, no probability of their doing this.
Meanwhile there were none of the manifestations of exultation and triumph peculiar to the North American savages.
Nothing was to be heard above the din of the roaring and crackling flames, save a low, guttural croaking of quiet satisfaction, such as might have been uttered over chunks of roast beef cooking on a spit.