Paul, the
sensitive, who so often felt the impression of coming events from
the conditions around him, was sure that they were marching to
their fate. Death he did not fear so greatly, although he did
not want to die, but when a shriek came to him from one of the
fires that convulsive shudder shook him again from head to foot.
Unconsciously he strained at his bound arms, not for freedom, but
that he might thrust his fingers in his ears and shut out the
awful sounds. Shif'less Sol, because he could not use his hands,
touched his shoulder gently against Paul's.
"Paul," he whispered, "I ain't sure that we're goin' to die,
leastways, I still have hope; but ef we do, remember that we
don't have to die but oncet."
"I'll remember, Sol," Paul whispered back.
"Silence, there!" exclaimed Braxton Wyatt. But the two had said
all they wanted to say, and fortunately their senses were
somewhat dulled. They had passed through so much that they were
like those who are under the influence of opiates. The path was
now dark, although both torches and fires burned in the distance.
Presently they heard that chant with which they had become
familiar, the dreadful notes of the hyena woman, and they knew
that they were being taken into her presence, for what purpose
they could not tell, although they were sure that it was a bitter
one.
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