allowed him and the precious fluid was withdrawn in spite of his groans and panting pleas.
“You talk first,” said the sachem. “Then you have much water. Where this man Captain Willard lodge now? ”
David shook his head weakly. What the sachem said was but a meaningless jumble of words to him. King Philip’s brow darkened.
“No talk yet? We see! Maybe you cold, David. Maybe you want fire.”
Again he spoke in his own tongue and two Indians left the group. David had a premonition of danger, but his mind, drugged by suffering, sensed but vaguely what the sachem intended. He closed his eyes wearily and only opened them when the Indians threw armfuls of dried twigs and branches at his feet. Even then he but glanced down for an instant with indifferent eyes. The sachem spoke again to him, but David heard as though from a distance and made no answer. Then a stab of pain dispelled his languor and his eyes opened protestingly. The young Indian Caleb, grinning fiendishly, was pressing the point of his knife into the boy’s shoulder. David flinched and moaned.
