Round the Fire Stories

“You are right—a thousand times right. But do not think that this hasescaped my thoughts. For myself I would die fighting, so would Ralston,so would Ainslie. I have talked to them, and it is settled. But theothers, I have spoken with them, but what are you to do? There are thepriest, and the missionary, and the women.”

“Would they wish to be taken alive?”

“They would not promise to take steps to prevent it. They would not layhands on their own lives. Their consciences would not permit it. Ofcourse, it is all over now, and we need not speak of such dreadfulthings. But what would you have done in my place?”

“Kill them.”

“Mein Gott! You would murder them?”

“In mercy I would kill them. Man, I have been through it. I have seenthe death of the hot eggs; I have seen the death of the boiling kettle;I have seen the women—my God! I wonder that I have ever slept soundagain.” His usually impassive face was working and quivering with theagony of the remembrance. “I was strapped to a stake with thorns in myeyelids to keep them open, and my grief at their torture was a lessthing than my self-reproach when I thought that I could with one tube oftasteless tablets have snatched them at the last instant from the handsof their tormentors. Murder! I am ready to stand at the Divine bar andanswer for a thousand murders such as that! Sin! Why, it is such an actas might well cleanse the stain of real sin from the soul. But if,knowing what I do, I should have failed this second time to do it, then,by Heaven! there is no hell deep enough or hot enough to receive myguilty craven spirit.”

The Colonel rose, and again his hand clasped that of the Professor.

“You speak sense,” said he. “You are a brave, strong man, who know yourown mind. Yes, by the Lord! you would have been my great help had thingsgone the other way. I have often thought and wondered in the dark, earlyhours of the morning, but I did not know how to do it. But we shouldhave heard Ainslie’s shots before now; I will go and see.”

Again the old scientist sat alone with his thoughts. Finally, as neitherthe guns of the relieving force nor yet the signal of their approachsounded upon his ears, he rose, and was about to go himself upon theramparts to make inquiry when the door flew open, and Colonel Dreslerstaggered into the room. His face was of a ghastly yellow-white, and hischest heaved like that of a man exhausted with running. There was brandyon the side-table, and he gulped down a glassful. Then he droppedheavily into a chair.

“Well,” said the Professor, coldly, “they are not coming?”

“No, they cannot come.”

There was silence for a minute or more, the two men staring blankly ateach other.

“Do they all know?”

“No one knows but me.”

“How did you learn?”

“I was at the wall near the postern gate—the little wooden gate thatopens on the rose garden. I saw something crawling among the bushes.There was a knocking at the door. I opened it. It was a ChristianTartar, badly cut about with swords. He had come from the battle.Commodore Wyndham, the Englishman, had sent him. The relieving force hadbeen checked. They had shot away most of their ammunition. They hadentrenched themselves and sent back to the ships for more. Three daysmust pass before they could come. That was all. Mein Gott! it wasenough.”

The Professor bent his shaggy grey brows.

“Where is the man?” he asked.

“He is dead. He died of loss of blood. His body lies at the posterngate.”

“And no one saw him?”

“Not to speak to.”

“Oh! they did see him, then?”

“Ainslie must have seen him from the church tower. He must know that Ihave had tidings. He will want to know what they are. If I tell him theymust all know.”

“How long can we hold out?”

“An hour or two at the most.”

“Is that absolutely certain?”

“I pledge my credit as a soldier upon it.”

“Then we must fall?”

“Yes, we must fall.”

“There is no hope for us?”