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Yazar: Charles Darwin

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The thing was horribly unthinkable. The warm mellow afternoon
sunshine wrapped them about. The horses grazed with quiet
unconcern. One of these hard-faced frontiersmen was chewing
tobacco with machine-like regularity. Another was rolling a
cigarette. There was nothing of dramatic effect. Not a man had
raised his voice. But Neill knew there was no appeal. He had come
to the end of the passage through a horrible mistake. He raged in
bitter resentment against his fate, against these men who stood
so quietly about him ready to execute it, most of all against the
girl who had let him sacrifice himself by concealing the vital
fact that her brother had murdered a guard to effect his escape.
Fool that he had been, he had stumbled into a trap, and she had
let him do it without a word of warning. Wild, chaotic thoughts
crowded his brain furiously.
But the voice with which he addressed them was singularly even
and colorless.

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