"
He looked down, his breath laboring. I could look at him now without
recoil, for a common humiliation bound us. We were white and we had
been tricked by a savage. We sat in heavy silence.
At last Starling spoke dully. "Why did Pemaou wait so long?"
I gripped my knife the closer. "That we shall learn when we learn what
he has done with the woman."
He looked up with his jaw shaking. "Monsieur, we must make haste."
But I shook my head. "Monsieur, no. We must await Pierre."
The fog was withdrawing. It was noon, and I rose and made ready a
grave for Simon. I chose a spot under a pine where I had seen the
woman sit, and I dug deep as my crude implements would permit. Then I
piled stones on the mound. The Englishman helped me, and together we
said a prayer. We did not comment till our work was over. Then
Starling looked down at the mound.
"I wonder why he was killed? The others surrendered."
I shrugged a trifle bitterly. "He loved the woman. It was not her
fault. I doubt that she knew it, and she could not help it. But it
cost him his life, for it made him attempt to carry a forlorn hope.
And she never even knew. It is suicide to love a woman hopelessly,
monsieur.
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