"Has he roused up?" he questioned of the trooper on guard.
"Not to know nuthin', sir. He's bin swearin' an' gurglin' most o' ther
time, but he's asleep now, I reckon."
The young officer stood silent, his face pale, his gaze upon the
distant Indian fires. Out yonder were defeat, torture, death, and
to-morrow meant a renewal of the struggle. His heart was heavy with
foreboding, his memory far away with one to whom all this misfortune
might come almost as a death-blow. It was Naida's questioning face
that haunted him; she was waiting for she knew not what.