"Did you?" In a passion, she cried, "Answer! Did you kill him?" She
struck me hard, and where the touch had been pain, the blow was a blaze
of white agony. I fainted.
"Answer!" She struck me again and the white blaze jolted me back to
consciousness. "Answer me! Answer!" Each cry bought a blow until I
gasped finally, "He signaled ... set catmen on us...."
"No!" She stood staring at me and her white face was a death mask in
which the eyes lived. She screamed wildly and the huge _chak_ came
running.
"Cut him down! Cut him down! Cut him down!"
A knife slashed the rope and I slumped, falling in a bone-breaking
huddle to the floor. My arms were still twisted over my head. The _chak_
cut the ropes apart, pulled my arms roughly back into place, and I
gagged with the pain as the blood began flowing painfully through the
chafed and swollen hands.
And then I lost consciousness. More or less permanently, this time.