om had been formally pronounced by a tribunal
knowing no mercy, from whose decision there was no appeal.

No hapless prisoner confined, as I have read they were in olden times,
within a dungeon whose walls slowly closed to crush him into pulp,
could have seen the coming of death, resistless and horrible, with
clearer vision than was ours as that group of savages pronounced our
doom. It was by exercising the greatest effort of will that I
conquered the dread sense of utter hopelessness which seemed to numb my
every faculty; for, although I was to be tortured to the end, and
perish at last in utmost physical agony, yet before that moment came
there still remained a duty to be performed for one I loved. For that
I must retain mind and strength to act like a man.

Slowly, cautiously, moving inch by inch across the small space
intervening, so as not to attract the attention of our guard, I crept
forward, pausing at last close beside Madame. Even as I reached her
the final warrior cast his useless vote with the others, the excited
concourse voicing appreciation in noisy acclaim. I bent low, trembling
from weakness, until my lips were close to her ear.

"Eloise," I whispered softly, forgetting at the awful moment that she
possessed another name, "it has been voted that three of us perish by
torture, but you are not in the list; you are named for a different
fate. Is it still your wish that I fulfil the pledge?"

As she glanced up, the old war-chief pointed directly toward her. I
could perceive the baleful gleam of his eyes, and noted with what quick
aversion she shrank back until her shoulder pressed my own.

"Yes, Geoffrey Benteen," she made immediate, resolute answer. "It will
be mercy. I beg you strike."

"You forgive the blow?"

"Forgive!" An instant her clear eyes, unfrightened, looked directly
into mine, a message in their depths I had never seen there before.
"More, I love the heart and hand which speed it."

My hands were bound tightly together, but my arms remained free, the
hilt of the knife resting firmly between the palms. Although I drew my
body somewhat back in readiness for the stroke, I delayed the terrible
deed until the last possible moment, the perspiration standing in great
beads upon my face. Oh, how I loved her then! how my half-blinded eyes
feasted upon her sweet, sad face, the flames casting a ruddy glow upon
it, and playing fitfully amid the masses of her dark, tangled hair!
There s