Frank was utterly at a loss what to do.
Resistance would simply hasten their deaths.
He resolved, though, to gain a short respite by parleying, for he hoped, in a feverish way, that in the interval he might think of some method whereby he could save the party.
Therefore he said to the captain:
“You surely do not mean to kill us in cold blood?”
“Don’t I, though?” sneered the wretch.
“Give us time to prepare for our doom.”
“Not a minute, curse you! I’ve got the whip hand now, and I’ll make you pay dearly for the losses and trouble and indignity you have put me to. And as for you,” he added, furiously, shaking his fist at Zamora, “I could tear your heart from your living body, blast you! I haven’t forgotten the choking you gave me, you dog!”
“Kill me and spare the others,” pleaded the Mexican. “I am not afraid to die, since it seems impossible for me to wrest my unfortunate child from your vile clutch.”
“I’ll kill you all!” shouted the captain.