Bemmon stopped struggling then and sagged weakly. For a moment it appeared that he would faint. Then he worked his mouth soundlessly until words came:

“You won’t⁠—you can’t⁠—really hang me?”

Lake spoke to him:

“We’re going to hang you. What you stole would have saved the lives of ten children. You’ve watched the children cry because they were so hungry and you’ve watched them become too weak to cry or care any more. You’ve watched them die each day and each night you’ve secretly eaten the food that was supposed to be theirs.

“We’re going to hang you, for the murder of children and the betrayal of our trust in you. If you have anything to say, say it now.”

“You can’t! I had a right to live⁠—to eat what would have been wasted on dying people!” Bemmon twisted to appeal to the ones who held him, his words quick and ragged with hysteria. “You can’t hang me⁠—I don’t want to die!”