I'd have done the same in their place.

As I see it, they're not particularly bad Indians.

But if you don't mind, I'd like you to cut these rawhide thongs that bind my wrists.

They're beginning to sting." The Chevalier drew a knife and with one sweep of its keen edge severed the rawhide.

Robert's wrists flew apart and the blood once more flowed freely through his veins.