Yet was he an enemy--one of the race with whom they were at war-- therefore he must die. Thus strangely do civilisation and barbarism meet on common ground. CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT. THE SLEEPING DRAUGHT. Cris Carrol's fortitude did not desert him, when he once more found himself alone in his prison. He was not wholly unmoved by the reflection that on the morrow he must die; for it was a death such as even a brave man might not meet bravely, but a lingering death by torture. The hunter knew what this meant. "A bullet ain't nothin'," said he to himself, "it's into yer body afore ye knows it, and if it's in your vitals there's an end on it; but to stand up to be prodded with burning sticks, requires philosophy a'most as much as this hyar chile have got. Dog-rot it, it won't bear thinkin' on--that it won't. But I'll be all-fired eternally if them fellows shall know how it hurts Cris Carrol! So let 'em do their worst, dura 'em!" After this self-consoling soliloquy, he calmly went to work to make himself comfortable, by laying his blanket on the bare ground and improvising a pillow out of some logs that lay within reach. As he handled the billets, a strange desire seized him. It was to knock his guard's brains out and make a dash for liberty. But a moment's reflection convinced him that the attempt at escape would be futile, the men outside being doubtless prepared to oppose his exit. A disinclination to shed blood uselessly decided him, and he lay down composedly after lighting his pipe. For some time he ruminated on his condition, puffing curls of smoke into the air, and watching them as they disappeared. Once or twice he heard a scratching noise near the corner of the room, but it ceased almost as soon as he had noticed it. At length, giving way to weariness, he composed himself to sleep, and before long, his loud snoring suggested to his guards that they might relax their vigilance. They accordingly retired outside the door, after having assured themselves that his slumber was genuine. There were still four of them, and they began chattering to each other, for a time forgetting their prisoner. He was at length awakened by a gentle tug at his arm, which had to be repeated several times before it had the effect of arousing him. In an instant he sat up. "Eh? what? By the etarnal--" An admonition of silence checked him, and he surveyed, with an astonished countenance, the cause of his disturbance. In the darkest corner of the hut he perceived an opening, through which the face of a young girl was visible. He started on recognising her. "Hush!" she said in a whisper. "Remember you are watched. Lie down again--listen; but say nothing. Ha! they are coming back!" At these words the speaker withdrew, just in time, as two of the guards next moment re-entered the room. They did not stay long. The heavy snoring which Cris improvised for them disarmed them of suspicion.