“I will agree that there will be no more whippings,” Toplinsky said quietly, “provided the work is done industriously. But the guards will shoot the first American who makes a break for liberty. I have said.”
“I will not be unreasonable,” Billy returned slowly. “We will not ask for freedom at this time but we must have fair treatment.”
“I will go no further than modify the regulations concerning whippings,” Toplinsky declared firmly. “What I have said I have said. Turn your gun over to one of the guards.”
With a sarcastic bow Billy obeyed. The act surprised Joan. She thought that Billy had the advantage, and should force their release. But Billy had saved Epworth from death, and Epworth and all the Americans were well pleased with the result.
“Arrest that man!” Toplinsky screamed the moment Billy was disarmed. “Put them together in the stocks and throw mud at them.” When they were bound together and their feet thrust through an old-fashioned stock that was dragged out, Toplinsky added slyly: “It may be puritanical but I imagine that by the time my babies get through playing with you, whippings will appear somewhat less painful.”
The mud was full of small sharp gravel and when it began to strike their faces it left red smears. When Joan saw this she sprang off the table, ran across the open space to where the two boys were fastened, and threw herself in front of them as a protection from the gravel.
“Drag the wench back to her room,” Toplinsky called out with a loud, shrill laugh, “and hold her there in the window where she can see without being able to interfere.”
Epworth and Billy were finally taken out of the stocks in an unconscious condition.
CHAPTER IX
Start to the Moon
Kosloff came into Joan’s room, and surveyed her with sneering eyes.