was all departed. His face was growing vacuous, his eyes were dull
and lack-lustre, and he moved in a cringing, furtive manner, like
an over-beaten dog. He had survived the ill-nourishment, the
excessive work on the sugar plantation under a pitiless sun, the
lashes of the overseer's whip when his labours flagged, and the
deadly, unrelieved animal life to which he was condemned. But the
price he was paying for survival was the usual price. He was in
danger of becoming no better than an animal, of sinking to the
level of the negroes who sometimes toiled beside him. The man,
however, was still there, not yet dormant, but merely torpid from
a surfeit of despair; and the man in him promptly shook off that
torpidity and awoke at the first words Blood spoke to him that
night - awoke and wept.

"Escape?" he panted. "O God!" He took his head in his hands,
and fell to sobbing like a child.

"Sh! Steady now! Steady!" Blood admonished him in a whisper,
alarmed by the lad's blubbering. He crossed to Pitt's side, and
set a restraining hand upon his shoulder. "For God's sake, command
yourself. If we're overheard we shall both be flogged for this."

Among the privileges enjoyed by Blood was that of a hut to himself,
and they were alone in this. But, after all, it was built of
wattles thinly plastered with mud, and its door was composed of
bamboos, through which sound passed very easily. Though the stockade
was locked for the night, and all within it asleep by now - it was
after midnight - yet a prowling overseer was not impossible, and a
sound of voices must lead to discovery. Pitt realized this, and
controlled his outburst of emotion.