The man fell suddenly on his knees, took the dead boy's hand in his left hand and held his right up, and in this strange attitude, which held all his hearers breathless, he poured out a terrible tale.
His boiling heart and the touch of him, whom now too late he defended like a man, gave him simple but real eloquence, and in few words, that scalded as they fell, he told as powerfully as I have feebly by what road Josephs had been goaded to death.
He brought the dark tale down to where he left the sufferer rolled up in the one comfort left him on earth, his bed; and then turning suddenly and leaving Josephs he said sternly:
“And now, sir, ask the governor where is the bed I wrapped the wet boy up in, for it isn't here.”
“You know as much as I do!” was Hawes's sulky reply.
But at this moment Hodges came into the cell with the bed in question in his arms.
“There is his bed,” cried he, “and what is the use of it now? If you had left it him last night it would be better for him and for me, too,” and he flung the bed on the floor.
“Oh! it was you took it from him, was it?” said Evans.
“Well, I am here to obey orders, Jack Evans; do you do nothing but what you like in this place?”
“Let there be no disputing in presence of death!”