The Breeds reluctantly turned back from the horrid spectacle. The fearful torture was done. For a few moments no words were spoken. Then, at last, it was Baptiste who broke the silence. He looked round on the passion-distorted faces about him. Then his beady eyes rested on the horrified faces of Jacky and her lover. He eyed them, and presently his gaze dropped, and he turned back to his countrymen. He merely said two words.
"Scatter, boys."
The tragedy was over and his words brought down the curtain. In silence the half-breeds turned and slunk away. They passed back over their tracks. Each knew that the sooner he reached the camp again, the sooner would safety be assured. As the last man departed Baptiste stepped up to Jacky and Bill, who had not moved from their positions.
"Guess there's no cause to complain o' yer friends," he said, addressing Jacky, and leering up into her white, set face.
The girl shivered and turned away with a look of utter loathing on her face. She appealed to her lover.
"Bill—Bill, send him away. It's—it's too horrible."
"Lord" Bill fixed his gray eyes on the Breed.
"Scatter—we've had enough."
"Eh? Guess yer per-tickler."
There was a truculent tone in Baptiste's voice.