“Fool!” he snarled. “Didst thou think to escape my vengeance so easily?”
The wretched boy saw the look of hatred in the brute’s eyes, and felt that he was doomed. There was no hope of mercy there. He knew at last that the blackguard’s object had been to increase his misery by raising his hopes, and the vile scheme had succeeded.
“Remember your oath,” the ensign gasped. “Remember the reward, Pir Baksh.”
“And dost thou think,” the traitor retorted with an air of virtue that sat badly upon his vicious face, “dog of an unbeliever, that we of the Faith would sell our souls for money?”
Again he kicked the prostrate Tynan.
“In what manner shall we slay him?” asked Muhammad Baksh.
“Bury him alive,” suggested Ghulam Beg.
“With our bayonets?” sneered the third sepoy. “Let us talk sense.”
“Tie him to yonder tree, then,” said Tynan’s late attendant, “and make a target of him. Fire first at hands and feet and legs and arms.”
“Aye, and make a noise that may be heard for miles?” the leader angrily retorted.