“I won’t bury him here, Luke. Some strayin’ redskin might come along, and help him to resurrection. By God! he shan’t have that, till he hears Gabriel’s trumpet. To make sure we must plant him in a safer place.”
“Can we find safer, cap?”
“Certainly we can.”
“But whar?”
“Anywhare out o’ sight of here. We shall take him to some distance off, so’s they can’t see him from the spring. Up yonder’ll do.”
He points to a part of the plain northward, adding:—
“It’s all alike which way, so long’s we go far enough.”
“All right!” rejoins Chisholm, who has surrendered his scruples about the cruelty of what they intend doing, and only thinks of its being done without danger.
“Boys!” shouts Borlasse to the men in charge of Clancy, “bring on your prisoner! We’re going to make a leetle deflection from the course—a bit o’ a pleasure trip—only a short un.”
So saying, he starts off in a northerly direction, nearly at right angles to that they have been hitherto travelling.