mirror to view himself by, he knew that his face was cut and scratched in many places. He awoke as one awakes after a bad dream, the sense of impending misfortune weighting his spirits. It took him a long moment, however, to recall the history of the past twenty-four hours. Memory supplied the record in fragments and his confused brain found difficulty in arranging them in their sequence. When it had done so, a greater depression seized him. He had lost his chance. His friends had come and gone. Moreover, Metipom would doubtless punish him for the attempted escape. Life looked very drab to David just then.
His reflections were disturbed by the pat of moccasined feet on the trampled ground outside and the entrance was darkened as the Indian whose duty it was to watch him and wait upon him entered. John showed such evident pleasure at seeing the captive again that David’s spirits momentarily lightened.
Squatting beside him, John produced his pipe and hazarded a few words of English.
“How you do?” he asked. “White brother plenty well?”
“Matchanni,” answered David. “Very sick.”
