But to burn it!
Hermie gave a fresh despairing cry. Floss, Bart, and Roly stood absolutely still, the instinct of obedience strong at such a crisis.
Cameron's arm was again raised, but Miss Browne flung herself right upon him and clung to the canvas, her weak hands suddenly filled with strength and tenacity.
'NOT THIS, NOT THIS,' SHE CRIED, 'ANYTHING BUT THIS.'
'Not this, not this!' she cried. 'Anything but this! Give it to me—I will keep it from your sight—I will hide it away—it shall never meet your eyes. My ship, my ship, you shall not burn it.'
She held it in her arms, actually torn from his grasp.
Cameron glanced around—the leaping flames, the startled children, Hermie's hysterical sobbing, Miss Browne's wild attitude of daring and defiance—he told himself he had taken a theatrical vengeance on himself.
'Oh, do as you like,' he said irritably, and turned back to the house. 'Bart, put a bucket of water on that fire.'
One month from the night of the sacrifice the Camerons were in possession of the selection, and Mrs. Dunks was lying in peace among those of her own people who rested from the sun's heat in the Forbes graveyard.