"Ay--that'll test him."
While Sandy busied himself about my fastenings to free my left arm for the ordeal, the other trooper was trying to make the long match he had unwound from his head-gear take light. It was damp and would not burn. I watched in a strange state of abstraction. Only a few minutes ago the vision of Mary had smiled upon me. Pain and torture were nothing to me now. Let them do their worst!
"It winna burn: it's wat," said the giant. Throwing the match on the floor, he gripped my left arm savagely and pushed back the sleeve of my coat.
"Rax me a live peat," he said, and Sandy picked one up with the tongs and handed it to him. He seized the tongs, and held the peat against my arm just above the wrist where the blue veins showed. "That'll mak' ye talk, ye dog," he shouted. But no word escaped my lips. My eyes sought the distance--and there I saw the face of Mary--twin tears upon her eyelids. The pain was swallowed up by the joy.
"He's a dour deevil," growled Sandy.
"Ay: but we'll ha'e him yelling for mercy yet. The peat's gaen cauld. Gar it lowe, Sandy."
Sandy bent his head and blew upon the peat. It began to glow again--but I did not flinch.
"Rax me anither," said my tormentor, letting the first fall and relaxing his grip of my arm. For a moment he turned to watch his companion pick up another glowing peat--and in that moment I eased the ropes about my right arm with my left hand. They slipped upwards and my right arm was free.
My tormentors did not observe it when they came to me again and applied the torture to my left arm once more.
Again Sandy lowered his head to blow upon the peat--and in that instant my right arm shot out like a steel spring, my fist crashed into his jaw and he fell in a heap, knocking the legs from under the giant, who fell heavily upon him.