Captain halted him at last.
"Don't try that game," he said. "It don't go. I spared your life for a purpose. The minute you stop pulling, that minute I'll sink this into your ribs." He prodded him with his sheath knife. "Get along now, or I'll make you haul it alone." He kicked him into resentful motion again, for he had come to look upon him as an animal, and was heedless of his signs of torture—so thus they marched; master and slave. "He's putting it on," he thought, but abuse as he might, the other's efforts became weaker, and his agony more marked as the days passed.
The morning came when he refused to arise.
"Get up!"
Klusky shook his head.
"Get up, I say!" Captain spoke fiercely, and snatched him to foot, but with a groan the man sank back. Then, at last, he talked.
"I can't do it. I can't do it. My legs make like they von't vork.
You can kill me, but I can't valk."
As he ceased, Captain leaned down and pushed back his lips. The teeth were loose and the gums livid.
"Great Heavens, what have I done! What have I done!" he muttered.
Klusky had watched his face closely.