"Here is a bottle," continued she; "it contains a sleeping draught. When they return, ask them for a drink; they will give it to you in a gourd; manage to pour the contents of this bottle into the gourd, and invite them to drink along with you. They will do so, as they never refuse a condemned captive. In a few minutes the draught will take effect. Then climb to the window, remove the bars without noise, let yourself down softly, and make your way straight into the forest. No thanks, till I see you again!" With these words his visitor vanished, the opening in the wall closed noiselessly, and Cris lay wondering whether he had been sleeping or waking, listening to a soft, delicate voice, or only dreaming that he heard it. The phial in his hand, however, gave token that he had not been dreaming. His visitor was no creature of another world, but one of this mundane sphere. The hunter scratched his head with bewilderment, and mentally reviewed the situation. "Wal, of all the surprisingest things as ever I met, this air the most tremenjous. Bite me to death with gallinippers if ever I thought to have seed sich a thing and not yell right out! And me a lyin' here when that splendiferous critter war a botherin' her brain to sarve this old sinner! It's the most etarnal 'stonishing thing ever heerd on--that's what it is. Yah! so you're come agin, air ye?" he continued, as two of his guards re-entered. "Wal, I reckon I've got somethin' as 'ill suit your complaint. Come in, ye devils, you!" The unconscious objects of his apostrophe having entered the room, seated themselves not far from him, chattering with each other. The subject of the conversation was uninteresting to their prisoner, who lay revolving in his mind what was best to be done. The time for putting his plan into execution had at length arrived. His sentinels had ceased conversing, and were with difficulty keeping themselves awake. "Look hyar, red-skins," he said, addressing them, "have ye sich a thing as a drop of water? I'm most chokin' wi' thirst, and I see its no use waiting till you axes me, so I'll take the trouble off your hands, and axe you." One of the Indians good-naturedly went outside, returning with a gourd, which he handed to the prisoner. Cris raised it to his lips, and drank; then paused, as if for breath. "By the etarnal!" said he, "if I didn't think I seed one of your comrades put his head in that thar door. What kin he want?" The men looked in the direction of the door. The contents of the phial were poured into the gourd. When the Indians looked again at their captive, he was apparently enjoying another long draught of water. Not a drop, however, passed his lips.