passion; and instantly, as he dropped flat and I imitated him, there was a hail of bullets, and the main part of the crowd fell shrieking; but some threw themselves down, while many stiffened and rolled in death, and blood spouted from scores of wounds.
The victory was awful, instantaneous. As the men fled towards the hills, Black called after them—
"Bring to, you limp-gutted carrion, or I'll wipe you out, every one of you! Any man who'll save his throat, let him come here!"
At these words they turned back to a man, and came cowering to the water's edge. Thirty of their fellows lay dead or wounded on the stones, and many of those crawling towards us had bullets in their limbs. Yet Black had no thought for them.
"Where's your leader?" he asked, and they pointed to the American, who lay with the blood pouring from a wound in his left thigh.
"He's there, is he?" screamed the infuriated man. "The darned skunk's down, is he? Well, I'll cure him like a ham. Get torches, some of you, and ice him in."
He was swaying with passion; yet, even regarding it, I could not understand what his order meant, and I asked—
"What are you going to do with that man?"
