“What?”
“It has been done before to-day,” went on Oakley. “Men have saved their lives that way, and ultimately have escaped.”
It was Haviland’s turn to be silent.
“No, hang it,” he said at last. “I’m not a religious chap, Oakley, I’m sorry to say, but—I kick at that.”
“Naturally one does, under ordinary circumstances; but under these it’s different. And it needn’t mean anything, you know.”
“No; somehow I can’t. It seems cowardly,” said Haviland. “Perhaps, too, I have an inspiration that it wouldn’t help our case much if we were to do such a thing. But, Oakley, it doesn’t follow that you’re to be bound by my opinion. You’re an older chap than me, and if you—”
“If I want to take the chance, I’d better, independently of you. That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it? No—no, Haviland. We are in this together, and we get out of it together—or not, probably not—even apart from the fact of your having saved my life—”
“Pooh! There was no life-saving about it. Only a chance finding of another fellow in a bit of a difficulty. In any case, there’s not much to be grateful for, but just the reverse.”
“These dogs have long tongues,” said one of the savage guards, striking Haviland with the butt of his spear. “Long tongues, but we will cut them out soon. So chatter, jackals, while ye may, for it will not be long.”
Not there, however, was their cruel martyrdom to take place, for the word went forth to prepare at once to march. The loot was gathered up and disposed among its respective bearers, and soon the two captives found themselves loaded up like bales of goods, and borne forth by those very abjects who had crowded in, beseeching their pity—the miserable slaves who had been used to bring them to this pass.