Several white men in uniform
had come up, and among them was an elderly one, short and squat,
and with a great flame colored handkerchief tied around his bead.
"You may burn us alive, or you may do other things jest ez bad to
us, all under the English flag," said Shif'less Sol, " but I'm
thinkin' that a lot o' people in England will be ashamed uv it
when they hear the news."
"Indian" Butler and his uniformed soldiers turned away, leaving
Shif'less Sol and Paul in the hands of the renegade and the
Iroquois. The two prisoners were jerked to their feet and told
to march.
"Come on, Paul," said Shif'less Sol. "'Tain't wuth while fur us
to resist. But don't you quit hopin', Paul. We've escaped from
many a tight corner, an' mebbe we're goin' to do it ag'in."
"Shut up!" said Braxton Wyatt savagely. "If you say another word
I'll gag you in a way that will make you squirm."
Shif'less Sol looked him squarely in the eye. Solomon Hyde, who
was not shiftless at all, had a dauntless soul, and he was not
afraid now in the face of death preceded by long torture.
"I had a dog once, Braxton Wyatt," he said, "an' I reckon he wuz
the meanest, ornierest cur that ever lived.
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