Ward stood behind him, his lean face working in helpless rage for fear the girl would be the choice, thereby costing him a new wife. I felt deathly sick, physically sick, fearing she was marked for death, fearing she was reserved for worse than death.
Suddenly Black Hoof began shivering, then threw back his head and for a moment stared about him as if to collect his scattered senses. Reaching down he pulled the girl from her father. She had swooned and was at least spared these few minutes of awful dread. The charred stick hovered over her white face, then was withdrawn and darted at mine.
Instinctively I closed my eyes, but as the stick failed to leave its mark I opened them and beheld Dale had been chosen: A black smooch extended from the tip of his nose to the roots of his hair, and was bisected by another mark across the bridge of his nose, and extending to his ears.
“Paint that man black,” Black Hoof ordered.
Dale was very composed. He knew the worst. Perhaps he believed his death would save the girl. In a steady voice he said to me:
“Morris, I am sorry for you. Only God knows how I feel about Pat. I’ve been worse than a fool. Don’t tell her when she wakes up. Get the Cousin woman to take her out of sight. It will be very hard but I will try to go through it like a man.”
“If there is anything I could do!” I cried.
He shook his head and threw it back and his lips were drawn tight.
“I am to blame. It’s best this way. You came after me to help me. That was good and foolish of you. Pray God she will be spared. Pray God you will be spared. They’ll be satisfied with my death for a while. I think I shall go through it very well.”
They pulled me away and fell to rubbing the unfortunate man’s face and neck with charcoal. Cousin’s sister with a magnificent show of strength gathered the unconscious girl in her arms and walked toward the woods. Ward would have stopped her, but she hissed like a snake in his face, and there was a hardness in the blue eyes he could not withstand.