Have a smoke!"
Duncannon ignored the invitation. He turned pale to the lips. For a
space of seconds he said nothing whatever. Then at length, slowly, in a
voice that was curiously even, "Yes, I've taught 'em to fight," he said.
"And now I'm to leave 'em to be massacred, am I?"
Herne shrugged his shoulders again, not because he was actually
indifferent, but because, under the circumstances, it was the easiest
answer to make.
Duncannon went on in the same dead-level tone:
"Yes, they've been useful to us, these friendlies. They've made common
cause with us against those infernal Wandis. They might have stayed
neutral, or they might have whipped us off the ground. But they didn't.
They brought us supplies, and they brought us mules, and they helped us
along generally, and hauled us out of tight corners. They've given us
all we asked for, and more to it. And now they are going to pay the
penalty, to reap our gratitude. They're going to be left to themselves
to fight our enemies--the fellows we couldn't beat--single-handed,
without experience, without a leader, and only half trained. They are
going to be left as a human sacrifice to pay our debts.
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