Thus, though they
worked but slowly, they worked silently, and gradually cut their way
into the interior.
Upon returning to his prison, after the trying ordeal of being
subjected to the taunts and stares of the whole village, Rene threw
himself upon the ground to gain what rest he might. Supposing that
this was his last night of life, his mental sufferings kept him long
awake, but at length he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Suddenly he
found himself sitting bolt-upright, as wide-awake as ever in his life.
At first he supposed his sudden awakening to have been caused by a
terrific burst of thunder that crashed overhead, but in the deep
silence that followed he heard his own name pronounced in a whisper--
"Ta-lah-lo-ko!"
Could he be dreaming? No; it came again--
"Ta-lah-lo-ko!"
Truly he was called, and he whispered in reply, "I am here."
A slight rustling followed, and then the captive boy, whose wildly
beating heart seemed like to burst from his breast, knew that a friend
was beside him, cutting the bonds from his wrists and ankles, and
whispering,
"It is Has-se, and thou art saved, oh my brother!"
Then tremblingly, and guided by the gentle hand of the Indian lad, Rene
crept through the opening made by the keen knives of his friends. In
spite of all precautions, his passage through the leaves rustled them
so loudly that only a violent thunder-clap coming at the same moment
prevented the noise from being heard.
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