the cord about his wrists cut into the flesh. Despondency grew, and by the time the sun was at the zenith he longed desperately for the merciful release of a bullet. At last, unable to bear the anguish of thirst longer, he cried with dry tongue for water. An Indian preparing food above a tiny fire of twigs near by looked stolidly across at him, hunched his glistening shoulders, and gave his attention again to the earthen dish before him. David raised his voice in a cracked cry and repeated his plea many times, but none more than stared at him. With a sob of self-pity the boy closed his eyes and let his head fall on his breast, and a sort of semi-consciousness enveloped him. From it he was presently aroused by the speaking of his name. Before him stood King Philip, Caleb, and several others of his company. He viewed them dully, his mind but half awake.
“You maybe talk some now,” said the sachem, smiling evilly. “You maybe tell me things and speak truth, David. What say?”
David sought to moisten his parched lips. “Water!” he muttered.
The sachem spoke to one of his attendants and presently a cup was held to the boy’s lips. But no more than a few swallows was
