CHAPTER XXIV
GERMAN CRUELTY
At the kitchen fire Echochee was busily preparing food for a company now swelled to ten, and Smilax had dropped in rank to an assistant. I saw from her activity that this was not a fortunate moment to interrupt, yet there are some few things in life more important than a well-turned meal, and I therefore advanced, wishing to speak in the presence of our two sailors who hovered near with lips that all but drewled in anticipation of the feast.
"I want to remind each of you," I said, "not to tell the princess that any one was killed. Let it go that a few were scratched, and the rest got away. You get the idea? I don't want her shocked."
My men understood at once, but Echochee, never taking her eyes from the sizzling skillets, asked:
"What you mean—'shocked'?"
"I mean horrified, terrified—sorry," I answered, rather put to it how else to explain.
"Ugh! She already sorry; cry some, say ve'y bad. Me say ve'y good. She all right now. You through?"