“It was time to teach them a lesson,” said Bickley as he replaced the empty cartridge, and, seizing the dead man, rolled him into the burning pit.
“Yes,” I answered; “but presently, when they have got over their fright, they will come back to teach us one.”
Bastin said nothing; he seemed too dazed at the turn events had taken.
“What do you suggest?” asked Bickley.
“Flight,” I answered.
“Where to—the ship? We might hold that.”
“No; that is what they expect. Look! They are cutting off our road there. To the island in the lake where they dare not follow us, for it is holy ground.”
“How are we going to live on the island?” asked Bickley.
“I don’t know,” I replied; “but I am quite certain that if we stay here we shall die.”
“Very well,” he said; “let us try it.”