It could add fire, he thought, but only
fire.
"If I were to fall!" he cried, and as he spoke his hell was made
perfect, for the door was opened. Idris es Saier appeared in the
opening.
"Make room," he cried, "make room," and he threw fire among the
prisoners to drive them from the door. Lighted tufts of dried grass
blazed in the darkness and fell upon the bodies of the prisoners. The
captives were so crowded they could not avoid the missiles; in places,
even, they could not lift their hands to dislodge them from their
shoulders or their heads.
"Make room," cried Idris. The whips of his fellow-gaolers enforced his
command, the lashes fell upon all within reach, and a little space was
cleared within the door. Into that space a man was flung and the door
closed again.
Trench was standing close to the door; in the dim twilight which came
through the doorway he had caught a glimpse of the new prisoner, a man
heavily ironed, slight of figure, and bent with suffering.
"He will fall," he said, "he will fall to-night. God! if I were to!" and
suddenly the crowd swayed against him, and the curses rose louder and
shriller than before.
The new prisoner was the cause.
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