every movement of his writhing frame, cut into the springing flesh. He was a prisoner in the very fortress, where, but that day, he exulted in the consciousness of complete command. A light, held above his eyes, revealed to him the persons of his assailants;--the supposed Indians, in the outlaws whom he had banished, and others, whom, for the first time, he knew as enemies. When his eyes were suffered to take in the aspects of the whole group, he was addressed, in his own tongue, by the leading conspirator. "René Laudonniere," said Stephen Le Genevois, in his bitter tones, "you are in our power. What prevents that we put you to death as you merit, and thus revenge our disgrace and banishment?" The wretched man, thus addressed, had no power to answer. The big tears gathered in his eyes and rolled silently down his cheeks. He felt the pang of utter feebleness upon him. "We will take the gag from your jaws, if you promise to make no outcry. Nod your head in token that you promise." The prisoner had no alternative but to submit. He nodded, and the kerchief was taken from his jaws. "You know us, René Laudonniere?" demanded the conspirator. "Stephen Le Genevois, I know you!" was the answer. "'Tis well! You see to what you have reduced me. You have held a trial upon me in my absence. You have sentenced me and my companions to banishment. You have made us outlaws, and we are here! You see around you none but those on whom you have exercised your tyranny. What hope have you at their hands and mine? Savage as you have made me in aspect, what should prevent that I show myself equally savage in performance. The knife is at your throat, and there is not one of us who is not willing to execute justice upon you. Are you prepared to do what we demand?" "What is it?" "Read this paper." A light was held close to the eyes of the prisoner, and the paper placed near enough for perusal. The instrument was a commission of piracy--a sort of half-legal authority, common enough in that day, to the marine of all European countries, under maxims of morality such as made the deeds of Drake, and Hawkins, and other British admirals, worthy of all honor, which, in our less chivalric era, would consign them very generally to the gallows. As Laudonniere perused the document, he strove to raise himself, as with a strong movement of aversion;--but the prompt grasp of Genevois fastened him down to the pillow. "No movement, or this!"--showing the dagger. "Have you read?" "I will not sign that paper!" said the prisoner, hoarsely. "Will you not?" "Never!" "You have heard the alternative!" Laudonniere was silent.