“Much little,” replied the chief, smiling faintly; “’bout half of nothing at all. He no get past six squaws. He much too scare!” Poor Hare had been tightly bound with bearskin thongs, and thrown down at the foot of a tree, where a single guard kept watch over him, but he had been provided with food, and his friends were permitted to communicate freely with him. From them he received the tidings of his doom. He listened at first with some gleam of hope, but this soon vanished when he learned the full program of the scene to be enacted. The women and large boys were to be placed first in the line--the oldest and least skillful of the men next, while the far end of this valley of death was to be composed of the best braves of the tribe, to whom it would be a lasting disgrace to allow the panting fugitive to get past them. “I’ve a mind to refuse it,” said Hare, with a groan. “It’s only for their sport, as a cat plays with a mouse, which it is sure to destroy at last. But they may kill me with a blow, and that will be better than burning. No, I’ll run! At what time is it to be?” “Soon after breakfast, and we are to have breakfast at sunrise,” Cody told him. “Try to get a good night’s sleep, and that will strengthen you for the task.” “Yes, I shall probably sleep well and have pleasant dreams,” said the prisoner bitterly. “You may. Such things have been. And then in the morning I will see that you have a good breakfast; and, if you wish, some brandy to give you courage, for I have some still left in my flask. Come, cheer up, and make an effort for your life!” “Thank you, Cody. You would make a man hope under the descending guillotine, I believe. Well, I will try. But I cannot sleep yet. I want to write to my poor wife and father first. I have a pencil and some old letters which I can cross, and you, perhaps, can obtain for me the freedom of my right hand for an hour. At least, I know you will try.” Buffalo Bill obtained this favor and others for the prisoner. His bands were all so far loosened that they might not give him pain, and he was removed into one of the huts for the night and was furnished with a bed of boughs. Still, he was watched all night long, closely and ceaselessly, not by one man now, but by two, who stood motionless at the two ends of his couch. His eyes closed at last, and, after long waiting, he sank into a troubled sleep, but he still saw the motionless sentries in dreams, and he woke many times ere morning to behold them, still and statuesque--but always facing each other, and always facing him. But he could have done nothing toward escape if they had been less vigilant, for his ankles were bound together and his arms were pinioned to his sides.