“Nothing,” replied the other. “But have you noticed where they put our guns and powder horns?”
“I must say I hadn’t thought much about that part of it,” confessed Roger; “but, since you mention it, I think they are over against that tree. The Indians are afraid of firearms, you know. Perhaps the chief Lascelles spoke to us about, and whom he called Black Otter, hopes to force Williams into teaching him how to use ‘the sticks that spit out fire and stinging things.’”
“There is another thing that, perhaps, I ought to tell you,” continued Dick, in a low tone. He saw the Frenchman looking over at them just then, as though wondering what they were finding to talk about, and debating whether it might not be safer to separate the pair.
“If it’s anything that will make me feel more cheerful, I hope you will lose no time in doing so,” Roger hastened to say.
“Please keep from showing so much in your face then,” Dick told him; “or that man may be able to read the whole story from where he sits. Act as though we were without the first ray of hope. He is a suspicious sort of man. We must try to make him believe we mean to make the best of it.”
“Now tell me, Dick; I am looking as if I’d lost my last friend. What has happened? I am sure you have made some discovery.”
“Oh! not so very great,” replied Dick; “only that I believe I can get my hands free with very little effort.”
“How does that happen?” wondered Roger; “mine are as tight as they can well be. Did that Indian favor you when he fastened us up the last time; or was it through an accident?”
“Neither one nor the other, it happens,” said the second prisoner, coolly. “I remembered to swell up my wrists in a way I can do, when he was putting the thongs around them. By reducing them to the utmost, my hands are almost free, and it will take but little effort for me to free them entirely.”