“All is lost!” exclaimed the Secretary in his native tongue.
“Not while we have arms,” growled Voalavo.
“You need not count on me to help you,” said Ravonino, quietly, in the native tongue; “why should we slaughter men uselessly? If we had a chance of making a dash I would fight. But we can get out of this hole only one by one, and no doubt a hundred men await us!”
“Is we a-goin’ to fight, massa?” asked the negro, hopefully.
“Of coorse we are,” said Hockins.
“No, my friend, we are not,” said the Secretary, “our only hope, now, is in God.”
“It seems to me,” rejoined Ravonino, “that God is our only hope at all times—whether in danger or in safety; but He makes it plain just now that our duty, as well as our wisdom, lies in quiet submission.”
Ebony received this remark with a groan, and Hockins with something like a growl. Just then the covering of their hiding-place was thrown off, and several bayonet-points appeared.
“Come out, one at a time, quietly, else we will shoot you where you stand!” exclaimed a stern voice.
The Secretary translated this. At the same time Ravonino clambered out of the rice-hole, and was instantly seized and bound.