Pedro gave a sob and drew his hand across his eyes.
“Don’ mine me,” he said, apologetically. “If Pedro mus’ die, he die like a game, too—a much small game. But Pedro no like to die. It hurt so bad.”
“So it does,” laughed Archie. “We’re none of us hankering for it, my boy.”
Nux and Bryonia were seemingly unmoved. They were accustomed to accepting the inevitable with philosophy.
“Bad t’ing, Mars’ Sam,” was all Nux said; and Bry shook his head and remarked:
“I like to have one big fight to end it. If big fight come, Bry don’t mind.”
Chaka was silent and reserved. After clasping his Brother Paul’s hand a moment he relapsed into a state of dignified unconcern. He reminded me of the Mussleman who is content with this life but is willing to die because he believes the next life better.
Before long the officer returned, with his attendant and the robes. We had braced up now and showed neither anger at what had occurred nor fear at our helpless condition. On his part the young fellow made no reference to his easy victory over us. He quietly passed around the robes and sandals, waited until we had put them on and then said, somewhat more respectfully than before:
“You will now accompany me to the Tribunal.”
With this he turned to leave the room. We followed in double file, Chaka and Paul first, then Joe and I, Archie and Ned, Nux and Bryonia and Pedro at the end. We assumed a demeanor of proud indifference which I assure you we were far from feeling.