“Stand there,” said I.
I picked up the hatchets and swung them by their heads from the sling of my arm; turned Montgomery over; picked up his revolver still loaded in two chambers, and bending down to rummage, found half-a-dozen cartridges in his pocket.
“Take him,” said I, standing up again and pointing with the whip; “take him, and carry him out and cast him into the sea.”
They came forward, evidently still afraid of Montgomery, but still more afraid of my cracking red whiplash; and after some fumbling and hesitation, some whip-cracking and shouting, they lifted him gingerly, carried him down to the beach, and went splashing into the dazzling welter of the sea.
“On!” said I, “on! Carry him far.”
They went in up to their armpits and stood regarding me.
“Let go,” said I; and the body of Montgomery vanished with a splash. Something seemed to tighten across my chest.
“Good!” said I, with a break in my voice; and they came back, hurrying and fearful, to the margin of the water, leaving long wakes of black in the silver. At the water’s edge they stopped, turning and glaring into the sea as though they presently expected Montgomery to arise therefrom and exact vengeance.
“Now these,” said I, pointing to the other bodies.
They took care not to approach the place where they had thrown Montgomery into the water, but instead, carried the four dead beast people slantingly along the beach for perhaps a hundred yards before they waded out and cast them away.