Alone with the Beast Folk
I faced these people, facing my fate in them, single-handed now—literally single-handed, for I had a broken arm. In my pocket was a revolver with two empty chambers. Among the chips scattered about the beach lay the two axes that had been used to chop up the boats. The tide was creeping in behind me. There was nothing for it but courage. I looked squarely into the faces of the advancing monsters. They avoided my eyes, and their quivering nostrils investigated the bodies that lay beyond me on the beach. I took half-a-dozen steps, picked up the bloodstained whip that lay beneath the body of the wolf-man, and cracked it. They stopped and stared at me.
“Salute!” said I. “Bow down!”
They hesitated. One bent his knees. I repeated my command, with my heart in my mouth, and advanced upon them. One knelt, then the other two.
I turned and walked towards the dead bodies, keeping my face towards the three kneeling beast men, very much as an actor passing up the stage faces the audience.
“They broke the law,” said I, putting my foot on the sayer of the law. “They have been slain—even the sayer of the law; even the other with the whip. Great is the law! Come and see.”
“None escape,” said one of them, advancing and peering.
“None escape,” said I. “Therefore hear and do as I command.” They stood up, looking questioningly at one another.