But the vehemence of Ru's resistance only whetted the enthusiasm of the mob. Added to the anticipated delight of the burning, there was the unexpected pleasure of a fight—a spirited fight, with all the zest of reality! Hence the people crowded close for a glimpse of the wild-eyed, convulsed form of Ru; hence they jeered and gibed in raucous glee when, in the unequal scuffle, he was hopelessly on the bottom; and they held their breath and gaped when at times he wriggled free of some encompassing arm and appeared about to escape altogether. No hint of pity for him issued from those tense, thick lips, no murmur of encouragement, or of admiration at his desperate struggle; the women looked on as intently and as cold-eyed as the men; and the children—whenever they could squeeze close enough for a glimpse—stared at the condemned one as dispassionately as their elders. Even when crimson patches appeared on his face and his nose spouted blood, there was not a tremor of sympathy or regret; even when, in the frenzy of the combat, his deerskin robe slipped off and he was left with only his hairy natural covering, there was not a murmur of revulsion or horror. But with the sporting aloofness of men who watch two cocks tearing one another to bits, the tribespeople saw Ru gradually beaten and bruised into a bloody submission.
At last, having put forth all the effort of which human flesh is capable, he lay sweating and panting on the ground, while a bulky kinsman sat across his outspread legs, and two others held his hands pinioned. About him, like voices in an evil dream, he could hear the expectant gibbering of the multitude; above him, he could view a blur of faces, evil faces gleaming with a cruel joy; to his left, when he turned his bloodshot eyes aside, he could see Woonoo the Hot-Blooded holding a long pointed stick in the flames.
But he was almost past seeing or caring. His senses were deserting him; he hardly knew who he was or where; the world seemed to be whirling and whirling around, and he was as though floating somewhere far away in a fog that would not lift.
He was aroused to full consciousness by the sight of a glowing something dangled just above his eyes. It was the red-hot stick, which Woonoo had thrust meaningly before him; and just above it shone a multitude of fiery eager faces, disdainful and compassionless as the glaring brand itself.
And as once more there surged across him the frenzied desire to escape, he was stabbed by sight of that which was more cruel even than the searing flames. Two well-known eyes, enticing and distracting eyes, were isolated suddenly amid that confused throng, beaming upon him as if in pleasure, in ridicule, in amused contempt....
Some there were who afterwards claimed to have heard him murmur, in wounded tones, "Yonyo! Yonyo!" But they could not be sure; perhaps it was but the fumings of a crazed mind. At all events, his words were drowned instantly by the hissing of scorched hair and flesh, and by a scream so horrible that even the most bloodthirsty quailed and shuddered.
And while the victim lay moaning on the ground, writhing and twisting like a worm that has been trodden upon, the curious pressed forward and observed a huge black mark upon his neck and chest—a black mark which took the form of a rude cross.
CHAPTER VII
The Fire-God Speaks
That evening Grumgra chose a camping-place at the base of the cliffs several hundred yards down the river—the very cliffs he had roared at Ru for suggesting. Here, in little hollows and recesses of the rocks and under the protection of the beetling precipice, the people had no difficulty in lighting their fires and keeping them burning; and though once again a strong wind and rain came up, the storm did not beat directly down upon them, and they slept undisturbed until morning.