"Wait!" cried the other. "He is already dying. He cannot stand."
Some one else explained, "It is indeed the American, but he is wounded."
"Let me finish the work; he has seen too much," said the first speaker, roughly.
"No, no! He is the American. Do you not understand?"
"Remember the order, Narcone," cautioned another.
But Narcone continued to curse as if mastered by the craving to kill, and if the others had not laid hands upon him he might have made good his intention. They argued with him, all at once, and in the midst of the confusion which ensued a new voice called from the darkness:
"What have you there?"
"The American! He cannot stand."
A square figure came swiftly through the group, muttering angrily, and the others fell back to give him room, all but Narcone, who repeated, doggedly:
"Let me finish the work if you fear to do so."