Joan saw the menacing glances, and cried out. She felt sure that these maddened men would not do the fair thing by the brother who had fought for her so gallantly—to the uttermost end of his strength. She also feared for herself.
These men who did not hesitate to shoot down airships, and steal, would shoot them later without mercy.
CHAPTER VIII
Billy Takes a Part
Six guards ran into the arena with a folding cot, and stretched Toplinsky out comfortably on it. He groaned miserably, lay silent for several moments, and then lifted his head on his elbow. In this attitude he gazed threateningly at Epworth for several seconds without speaking, his light blue eyes twinkling viciously.
“The woman is free,” he at last shrilled out. “I, the great Herman Toplinsky have said, and it is so. But for him—that is another thing. I have it. He has dodged about like a jack-in-the-box, he has run away from me and would not fight where I could reach him with these strong arms, he has pounded me in the softest parts of my anatomy when I could not catch him. For that, ah, ha, he shall be whipped—whipped until his back streams blood and he shouts aloud with pain, until his head falls forward in a faint. Strap him up. I have said.”
With a deep groan he dropped back on the cot, lay on his back, for several seconds, and then turned over so that he could view the whipping.
“Oh, my! Oh, my! my stomach,” he half sobbed.
“How it hurts. Strap the rascal where I can see him wither and suffer. I say that he shall suffer as I suffer.”
The six men jerked Epworth to a post in front of the giant and lashed him face to the post, pulling down his tights so that his back was exposed.
“Ah, ha, his back is smooth and white. I shall make it red and striped, and then pour salt on it. Proceed, Kosloff, good comrade, and spare not the rod.”