"Nothing is impossible. But listen!"
There was a sound—the swift patter of feet; they were approaching. Then suddenly a form bent over me close; I could see nothing, but I felt a pressure against my body and an ill-smelling odor, indescribable, entered my nostrils. I felt a sawing movement at my wrists; the thongs pulled back and forth, and soon my hands were free. The form straightened away from me, there was a clatter on the ground near my head, and then silence.
There came an oath from Harry:
"Hang the brute! He's cut my wrist. Are your hands free, Paul?"
"Yes."
"Then bind this up; it's bleeding badly. What was that for?"
"I have an idea," I answered as I tore a strip from my shirt and bandaged the wound, which proved to be slight. Then I searched on the ground beside me, and found my surmise correct.
"Here you go, Hal! here's some grub. But what the deuce is it? By Jove, it's dried fish! Now, where in the name of—"
But we wasted no more time in talk, for we were half starved. The stuff was not bad; to us who had been fasting for something like thirty-six hours—for our idea of time was extremely hazy—it was a gorgeous banquet. And close by there was a basin full of water.
"Pretty decent sort of beggars, I say," came Harry's voice in the darkness. "But who are they?"