Having cursed his enemy and the day of his birth, Lochiel had gradually come to a more Christian frame of mind, as he lay bound to a tree and all hope banished from his heart. He knew that the savages scarcely ever spared their captives, and that a slow and hideous death was in store for him. Recovering his natural force of mind, he hardly took care to pray for his deliverance; but he implored of Heaven forgiveness for his sins and strength to bear the tortures that were before him. Of what account, thought he, the judgment of men when the dream of life is over? And he bowed himself beneath the hand of God. The three warriors were seated around within a dozen feet of Lochiel, smoking in silence. The Indians are naturally reserved, regarding light conversation as only suitable to women and children. One of them, however, by name Talamousse, speaking to the man of the island, made inquiry: "Will my brother wait long here for the warriors from the Portage?" "Three days," answered the latter, lifting up three fingers. "Grand-Loutre and Talamousse will depart to-morrow with the prisoner. The Frenchman will rejoin them at the encampment of Captain Launière." "It is well," said Grand-Loutre, extending his hand toward the south. "We are going to take the prisoner to the camp at Petit-Marigotte, where we will wait three days for my brother and the warriors from the Portage, and then go to the camp of Captain Launière." For the first time Lochiel perceived that the voice of the man with the fox-skin cap was not like that of the other two men, although he spoke their language fluently. Hitherto he had suffered in silence the torments of a burning thirst. It was a veritable torture of Tantalus, with the crystal lake waters lapping at his feet, but, under the impression that the man might be a Frenchman, he made bold to say: "If there is a Christian among you, for God's sake let him give me a drink." "What does the dog want?" said Grand-Loutre to his companion. The man addressed made no answer for some moments. His whole body trembled, his face became pale as death, a cold sweat bathed his forehead; then, controlling himself sternly, he answered in his natural voice: "The prisoner asks for a drink." "Tell the dog of an Englishman," said Talamousse, "that he shall be burned to-morrow; and that if he is very thirsty he shall have boiling water to drink." "I am going to tell him," replied the Canadian presently, "that my brothers permit me to give their captive a little water." "Let my brother do as he will," said Talamousse; "the pale faces have hearts like young girls." The Canadian curled a piece of birch bark into the form of a cup, filled it with fresh water, and handed it to the prisoner, saying: "Who are you, sir? In the name of God who are you? Your voice is like that of a man who is very dear to me."