The wretch with the knout grinned, and made some insulting remarks, which his fellow-brutes appeared to enjoy very much.
Then she was placed in position and forced to bow her head so that her beautiful back might be rounded up for the cruel blows. And yet she did not flinch, and Barnwell saw red scars that told of previous castigations.
The grinning rascal raised his knout to strike her, when young Barnwell, mad with indignation, leaped into the arena.
With one powerful blow he felled the burly rascal like a log, and seizing his knout, placed his foot upon him and raised it as if to strike.
The movement was so sudden and so bold that the officers were for a moment paralyzed and stood looking at him.
"Wretches, to strike a woman! Flog me if you must vent your brutality, but if you claim to be men, don't harm that girl!" he cried.
She was the only one present who understood the English language.
"Oh, sir," said she, "they will kill you for this!"
"Let them; I had rather die than witness such horrible brutality."
The next instant he was seized, or an attempt was made to seize him, but before they succeeded in doing so, at least six of them felt his powerful blows and went down under them.