No sound came out of his mouth but a useless little wheeze. He had lost his voice.
"You should not have angered them," Papa said.
One of the savages, holding high a long, thin skinning knife, seized Raoul's balls. He brought the knife down, slowly.
Raoul kept trying to scream at his father and brother. Again and again he forced air through his aching throat. Nothing came but a silly squeak. Then a groan, a little louder.
Pierre reached out a marble hand to him. Thank God!
Just as their fingers touched, Pierre jerked his hand away and disappeared.
Raoul felt the Indian's blade like cold fire slicing through the sac between his legs. At last he let out a full-throated scream.
"Raoul!"
His body cold and wet with sweat, he sat up in darkness. He felt arms clutching at him and fought them off.
"Raoul! Wake up."