Free Hubbard, L. Ron by Final Blackout

uncovered thirty-one soldiers."
    "Feed them, shoot them or enlist them," said the lieutenant, "but let me digest a good dinner in peace'
    "Sir, these men were naked in an underground cell. Fourteen of them are English. They have been used as plowhorses, sir. They say they were trapped and made slaves of, sir. One of them is balmy and I'm not sure of a couple more. They been cut up pretty bad with whips. Another says they're all that's left of the Sixty-third Lancers."
    "Dixon! That's Dixon's regiment!" said Malcolm.
    The lieutenant sat forward, interested. "Jolly Bill Dixon?"
    "That's him," said Malcolm.
    "They say he's dead, sir."
    "By Heaven ¯ " began Malcolm, starting up.
    The lieutenant motioned him back into his chair. "Bring the leader of this village down here, Pollard."
    "Yessir."
    The old woman was thumping her cane nervously, her eyes fever-bright.
    "General ¯ "
    "Quiet," said Mawkey.
     
    The room fell very still with only an occasional pop of the fire and the movement of shadows to give it life. The flame painted half the lieutenant's face, which was all the worse for having no particular expression beyond that of a man who has just enjoyed a full meal.
    The leader was thrust down the steps in the hands of two guards. His small eyes were wild and bloodshot and he shook until no part of him was still.
    His sudden fright passed and he managed to fix his gaze on the lieutenant.
    "When we came in," said the lieutenant, "I saw evidences of traps. There were bones in them and no equipment."
    "The soldier's sickness! I swear, general ¯ "
    "And we have just located thirty-one prisoners. Soldiers you saw fit to convert into slaves."
    "We have so much plowing, so few men ¯ "
    "You're guilty, then. Pollard, hand him over to those soldiers you found."
    "No, no! Your Excellency! They have not been mistreated, I swear it! We did not kill them even though they attempted to attack us ¯ "
    "When you take him out, parade him around a little so that this offal will know enough to respect a soldier," said the lieutenant.
    "Your honor ¯ "
    "Carry on, Pollard."
    "But your Excellency! They'll tear me to pieces! They'll gouge out my eyes ¯ "
    "Am I to blame because you failed to treat them better?"
    The old woman leaned toward the lieutenant. "My general, have mercy."
    "Mercy?" said the lieutenant. "There's been none of that that I can remember where peasants and soldiers are concerned."
    "But force will be met with force," said the old. woman. "This is a good man. Must you rob this house of both its men in one night? What will we do for a leader? There are only seven hundred of us in this village and only a hundred and fifty of those are men ¯ "
    "If he is alive by morning, let him live. You have your orders, Pollard."
    "I'll give them full rights!" wailed the leader. "A share in the fields, a voice in the council ¯ "
    "You might communicate that to those fellows," said the lieutenant to Pollard. "No man is good for a soldier if he allows himself to be trapped in the first place. Carry on."
    The leader was led away and the lieutenant relaxed again. Greta filled his dixie with wine and he sipped at it.
    The other women in the room were very still. The children did not cry now.
    The fire died slowly down.
    Shortly there was a commotion at the top of the steps and the sentry lounging there reared up with his rifle crossed, barring passage to several men who seemed to desire, above all things, to dash down and worship the officer who had set them free. Finally understanding that the guard would have none of them, they went away.
    "…a voice in council," the leader was saying, falsely hearty. "For some time I've kept my eye on you. Glad to have such an addition."
    The women in the room started breathing again. A child whimpered and was caressed to sleep. Wood was tossed upon the fire and the room became cheerfully light.
    "You are a good man, my general," said the old woman in a husky voice.
    Greta sat in the recess of the chimney