Would he come?
Paul's sensitive nerves were again keenly alive to every phase of his cruel situation.

The warriors, lying almost at his feet, were monsters, not men, and this wilderness, which in its finer aspects he loved, was bristling in the darkness with terrors known and unknown.

Yet his clogged and weary brain slept at last, and when he awoke again it was day--a beautiful day of white and gold light, with the autumnal tints of the forest all about him, and the leaves rustling in a gentle wind.
But his heart sank to the uttermost depths when he looked at the warriors.
By day they seemed more brutal and pitiless than at night.

From their long, narrow eyes shone no ray of mercy, and the ghastly paint on their high cheek bones deepened their look of ferocity.

It was not the appearance of the warriors alone, it was more the deed for which they were preparing that appalled Paul.