Our only hope rests in the fact that I can use my lungs. That's
why I didn't let them know when my gag became loose. I had the devil's
own time keeping it from falling with my chin; pretty near broke my neck
doing it. A little later, when we're sure Jeekum and his men are out of
hearing, I'll begin calling for help. Perhaps some fisherman or
hunter--"
He stopped, and a chill ran up Nathaniel's back as he listened to a
weird howl that came from far behind them. It was a blood-curdling
sound and his face turned a more ghastly pallor as he gazed inquiringly
at Neil. His companion saw the terrible question in his face.
"Wolves," he said. "They're away back in the forest. They won't come
down to us." For a moment he was silent, his eyes turned to the sea.
Then he added, "Do you notice anything queer about the way you're bound
to that stake, Nat?"
There was a thrilling emphasis in Nathaniel's answer. He nodded his head
affirmatively, again and again.
"Your hands are tied to the post very loosely, with a slack of say six
inches," continued Neil with an appalling precision. "There is a rawhide
thong about your neck, wet, and so tight that it chafes your skin when
you move your head. But the very uncomfortable thing just at this moment
is the way your feet are fastened. Isn't that so? Your legs are drawn
back, so that you are half resting on your toes, and I'm pretty sure
your knees are aching right now. Eh? Well, it won't be very long before
your legs will give way under you and the slack about your wrists will
keep you from helping yourself.
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