“You see, Mr Osten,” said Big Ben, in a low tone, “it’s a piece of good luck that they’ve brought us this way, ’cause when we leave them we have nought to do but continue our journey.”
“Leave them!” exclaimed Will in surprise. “How shall we manage to leave them?”
“By escapin’,” answered the trapper. “How it is to be gone about no man can tell, for man is only mortal an’ don’t know nothin’ about the futur’, but we’ll find that out in good time.”
“I hope we may,” returned Will sadly, as he gazed round on the stern faces of the savages, who ate their frugal meal in solemn silence; “but it seems to me that our case is hopeless.”
“Faix, that’s what meself thinks too,” muttered Larry between his teeth, “for these cords on me wrists would howld a small frigate, an’ there’s a black thief just forenint me, who has never tuk his eyes off me since we wos catched. Ah, then, if I wor free I would make ye wink, ye ugly rascal. But how comes it, Mister Trapper, that ye seem to be so sure o’ escapin’?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m hopeful,” replied Big Ben, with a smile.
“Hopeful!” repeated the other, “it’s disapinted ye’ll be then. Haven’t ye often towld me that thim blackguards roast an’ tear and torture prisoners nowadays just as bad as they ever did?”
“I have.”
“Well,—d’ye think them Redskins look as if they would let us off, seein’ that we’ve shot wan of them already?”
“They don’t.”