"Silence, and begone!" exclaimed Hunston fiercely. "You have no right to speak to the men."
"I have every right," returned the woman, boldly. "Silence yourself, I say, and know your place!"
Her voice and manner half-awed Hunston, who fell back a pace or two.
"My poor comrades," she went on, addressing the firing party, "this work is not to your taste. I'll load for you."
So saying, she set to work to reload the rifles, which were piled now.
And she observed the very greatest care in this task.
"Not a shot must miss," she said to the men of the firing party, earnestly. "Every bullet must have its billet. We have to murder, but even then not to torture, these unhappy boys."
Hunston smiled sardonically.
"How very tender-hearted you have become," he said, with a sneer of contempt.
"Silence!" said the girl, turning fiercely upon him, so that he actually quailed before her indignant gaze. "Silence, I tell you, bully—butcher—villain—silence!"