He extended his hand, but the schismatist, pale and unable to more than move mechanically, stared at him without offering his hand. The nuncio laughed again, and carelessly said, “Oh, as you please.”
By this time they were in a shady place, secure from observation by a clump of trees, and the other soldier approached with a couple of shovels.
“Scoop out a grave there, fellows,” said the Jesuit. “You must not take your prisoners to headquarters if you would avoid trouble. We will have a bit of fun by and by.”
The soldiers were sufficiently drunk to be irresponsible, and of a temperament to receive suggestions. They obeyed the Jesuit without demurring, while he taunted the renegade Romish priest, and then they came to him to inform him that all was ready.
“Tie the prisoner,” said the Jesuit.
They proceeded to pinion his legs and arms, and when this was done the Jesuit continued:
“Now take him and throw him in the trench.”
“Dios Mio! You surely will not bury me alive,” plead the leader of the schism, as they lifted him and deposited him in the rude and shallow grave. For answer the Jesuit bade the soldiers seize the shovels and fill up the sand over the body, leaving the head uncovered. Aglipay begged and prayed, as shovelful after shovelful of sand fell upon him, first rendering him powerless to move, and then bearing upon him with a weight intolerable. His face was blanched, his eyes stood out, bloodshot in horror. For answer to his pleading the Jesuit produced a prayer book and began to read in mockery the service of the dead:
“From the pains of death, good Lord, deliver me.” Aglipay gritted his teeth, but his soul responded in a sincerer prayer than the Jesuit uttered.
“From the pains of hell and the agony of the grave”—