and now cut for it. Carnehan,’ says he,
‘shake hands with me and go along with
Billy. Maybe they won’t kill you. I’ll go
and meet ’em alone. It’s me that did it.
Me, the King!’

“‘Go!’ says I. ‘Go to Hell, Dan. I’m
with you here. Billy Fish, you clear out,
and we two will meet those folk.’

“‘I’m a Chief,’ says Billy Fish, quite
quiet. ‘I stay with you. My men can go.’

“The Bashkai fellows didn’t wait for a
second word but ran off, and Dan and Me
and Billy Fish walked across to where the
drums were drumming and the horns were
horning. It was cold-awful cold. I’ve
got that cold in the back of my head now.
There’s a lump of it there.”

The punkah-coolies had gone to sleep.
Two kerosene lamps were blazing in the
office, and the perspiration poured down my
face and splashed on the blotter as I leaned
forward. Carnehan was shivering, and I
feared that his mind might go. I wiped
my face, took a fresh grip of the piteously
mangled hands, and said:—“What happened
after that?”