Long they sat there, trying to squeeze some hope out of the situation, and listening to the strange sounds that came to their ears from without. "Hark!" exclaimed Dick, when perhaps an hour had passed since darkness set in, and they had eaten the bowls of food thrust into the strong lodge by one of their dusky guards; "what can that fresh shout mean, do you think?" "It sounds to me as if they had brought in another prisoner," Roger declared. "But it may only be that they are holding a council to settle our fate. I remember old Pat O'Mara saying that was what they always did. We might peep out through some of these wide cracks on this side, and see if it is so." But, just as they were about to do this, the door of the cabin was opened again, and the figure of a man thrown in. He landed in a heap on the hard ground, and gave a grunt. "That might have broken my neck, if my arms had been tied!" they heard the newcomer say, with what seemed to be a half chuckle; and it was at once apparent to the boys that the last prisoner of the Sioux was also white, like themselves. Dick coughed, to inform the other that he was not alone. "Who's there?" asked the unseen man, quickly. "Two white boys who have been made prisoners by the Sioux," replied Dick. "We belong to Captain Lewis's party, and came out to the salt-lick to see if we could meet a scout who was to report there to a Mandan brave; when the Indians dropped down on us from the branches of the trees. Who may you be, sir, I'd like to know?" "I? I'm the scout who was to leave word at the salt-lick; and my name is Jasper Williams!" came the astonishing reply. What a meeting, after they had come all these hundreds upon hundreds of miles especially to find this man; and now all of them were prisoners in the hands of the savage Sioux! CHAPTER XXIX A DESPERATE SITUATION THE surprise of Jasper Williams was overwhelming when he learned that these two lads had braved the dangers of the wilderness, week in and week out, just to find him, so as to get his signature to a document which Dick carried, safely sewed inside the lining of his hunting jacket. "Of course I'll be only too glad to put my name on it, if only we can get out of this bad scrape," the scout declared, after he had heard the story, and shaken the hands of Dick and Roger Armstrong many times. "I know François Lascelles only too well, and it would give me great pleasure to balk his little game; but just now, my brave lads, it looks as if we'd furnish sport for the heathen at the torture post before many days go by; they're feeling so angry at the whites for coming up here into their country without first making all manner of presents to them." At that Roger remembered to tell the scout what a slender hope he and his cousin were hugging to their hearts. Jasper Williams considered it well, but did not seem too sanguine.