"Tell the lady we have no food and can get none. Later, I may contrive to obtain some for her, from the enemy that surrounds us."
"Why," said Kit Bottle, as Oliver disappeared, "an thou dost that, thou'lt betray our empty state to Roger Barnet."
"What matter?" said Hal. "We can hold out two days, that's certain. And after that,—Barnet will but know he need smoke the less tobacco till our starving out, that's all!"
CHAPTER XXI.
"The best man best knows patience."—Thierry and Theodoret.
The day dragged on,—grayest of gray Sundays. The snowfall ceased, but the sky remained ashen, and the wind still moaned intermittently, though with subdued and failing voice. In the great, silent house, faint creaks had the startling effect of detonations, and the flapping of tapestry in the wind seemed fraught with mysterious omen.
Marryott, in the course of his next round of the mansion, told the men of the loss of the provisions. Some of them had already known of it. No complaint was uttered. The men replied with a half respectful, half familiar jest, or with good-humored expression of willingness to fast awhile. Fortunately, the supply of water was such as to obviate any near dread of the tortures of thirst.