“Two ’ll suffice,” he said, “to keep this ’ere maggot from eatin’ his way out of the apple.” “A baby would suffice, Joe, in my present state.” The man nodded again serenely. “I can ventur’ to ease you a trifle,” he said. “No, leave me alone. I’m best left quiet. It’s odd what browsing lambs you all were till misfortune came like a wolf into the fold. What do you expect for your share, Joe?” “More or less than you are a-going to offer me to let you escape. It’s no good, cap’en. The riches of the world wouldn’t bribe me with Fern a-treadin’ on my tail.” With the words he went to the door, looked back grinning, and vanished. Tuke waited during an interval of suspense, until he judged himself strong enough to make a noiseless effort to rise. Then, very cautiously and by slow degrees, he got to his knees--to his feet, and stood swaying. Suddenly he wrenched his arms, and they parted and swung down idly by his sides. It was as he had felt and dared to hope--the slash of the murderous knife had severed his bonds at the wrist. For some moments he stood wrapt in the mere ecstasy of physical relief. Then he tried to lift his arms, found himself unable to, and looked down at the poor dangling limbs. They were a pitiful sight--swollen, paralyzed, discoloured, and streaked with clotted blood. In alarm he endeavoured to woo them to a return of circulation by gently swinging and rubbing them against his coat-skirts. For a time no result was apparent; but persisting, in what panic flurry of motion he could contrive without noise, he was rewarded by and by with an awakening of such twinges as he was convinced betokened a renewal of life in the maltreated members. The twinges increased in quick recurrence and in force, until his arms seemed mere engines of boiling and bursting pains. He could hardly endure the agony and not cry out; but he set his teeth and rubbed either limb furiously with a hand, unconscious in his torment that the power of motion was thus restored to him. At last the pain slackened, and he was able to think. He examined his wrist and found the wound to be a long and superficial one, but enough to have caused him considerable loss of blood had chance not applied an effective tourniquet. His hands were still little capable, his whole frame was suffering and enfeebled; but his triumph of release from bondage was a stimulant that wrought upon him like wine.