“All is over—I am lost!” he muttered chokingly, a black wave of despair engulfing his soul. “I may as well resign myself to my fate. Ill-luck has followed me persistently. Joe and Bright Wing are dead, or helpless captives like myself; Bradford is absent. I’ve not a friend in the place—except La Violette. And what can _she_ do? Nothing! What _would_ she do, if she could? I don’t know. She wouldn’t give me my liberty, I’m sure. And I would as lief die as remain longer a prisoner! She loves me? Yes. But she will not aid me to escape—of course not. She would rather see me die before her eyes, than resign me to another. What a fool I was to try to recover my gun! But I was crazy with disappointment. Ah! Duke, old fellow, you seem to realize the gravity of the situation. Three times we have contended against these red demons. They’ll not spare us this time. Well, at least I can die like a man; you can die like a hero. I wouldn’t care so much—though life is sweet—were it not for Amy and La Violette. Yes, La Violette! I pity her; I—I——” Slowly, endlessly, the night dragged itself away. The morning dawned warm and clear. At sunrise La Violette made her way to the cabin in which the prisoner was confined. The guard at the door did not oppose her entrance; but he maintained his position just within the door. Douglas looked up as the girl’s light footsteps fell upon his ear. He saw that she was pale and haggard, that her eyelids were swollen with weeping. “You heard of my ill-fortune and came to me,” he remarked simply. “Yes,” she replied in a tone scarcely audible. “Do you not want something to eat?” “I want nothing.” “Nothing?” And she eyed him sharply. “Nothing but my liberty.” “It is impossible for me to give you that,” she answered hastily, giving him a look that he could not interpret. “But you must eat something. You will need all your strength for the ordeal.” “What do you mean?” he inquired in an unmoved voice. Unheeding his question, she turned and left the hut. She was gone but a few minutes. When she returned, she bore a quantity of corn bread and meat. “You must eat this—all of it,” she said decidedly. “Here, Duke—here is your share.” After she had unbound his hands, Ross sat up and silently devoured the food to the last crumb. “I thought you were hungry,” she said as she took the platter from his hands. “Do you want anything more?” “I’d like some water.” She brought it to him. “That’s all,” he said, as he returned her the cup. “I thank you for your kindness.” “And you would like to have your liberty?” she queried in a half-mocking tone. “Of course,” he answered gravely. “To join in a war against my people?” “Against England,” he corrected. “My people are allies of the English.” “Still you can’t blame me for wishing to fight for my country.” “And you cannot blame me for refusing to liberate you.”