"You are free to go, father," I said.
He laughed mockingly.
"Yes, free, but I do not need your word for it. I go when the Word
calls me, and I come when It calls me--and none stays me."
He raised a crucifix on high as he spoke. His eye chanced to fall
upon the bodies scattered on the verge of the swamp.
"Do these poor souls require Christian burial!" he asked.
"They were devil-worshipers, father," I said.
He hesitated, then muttered several prayers in Latin and made the
sign of the cross in the air. Without another word he turned on his
heel and disappeared into the woods, following the route around the
swamp which Ta-wan-ne-ars had taken.