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Nobody spoke a word. There we all sat in perfect silence, staring
at the glare and glow of the large fire, and at the shadows thrown by
the flickering earthenware lamps (which, by the way, were not ancient).
On the open space between us and the fire lay a large wooden tray,
with four short handles to it, exactly like a butcher's tray, only not
hollowed out. By the side of the tray was a great pair of long-handled
iron pincers, and on the other side of the fire was a similar pair.
Somehow I did not at all like the appearance of this tray and the
accompanying pincers. There I sat and stared at them and at the silent
circle of the fierce moody faces of the men, and reflected that it
was all very awful, and that we were absolutely in the power of this
alarming people, who, to me at any rate, were all the more formidable
because their true character was still very much of a mystery to us.
They might be better than I thought them, or they might be worse. I
feared that they were worse, and I was not wrong.


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