He
waited for some direction from his father. But none came. Don
Diego's courage, it seemed, had sadly waned under that rude test.
He hung limply in his fearful bonds, and was silent. Evidently he
dared not encourage his son to defiance, and presumably was ashamed
to urge him to yield. Thus, he left decision entirely with the
youth.
"Come," said Blood. "I have been clear enough, I think. What do
you say?"
Don Esteban moistened his parched lips, and with the back of his
hand mopped the anguish-sweat from his brow. His eyes gazed
wildly a moment upon the shoulders of his father, as if beseeching
guidance. But his father remained silent. Something like a sob
escaped the boy.
"I... I accept," he answered at last, and swung to the Spaniards.
"And you - you will accept too," he insisted passionately. "For
Don Diego's sake and for your own - for all our sakes. If you do
not, this man will butcher us all without mercy."
Since he yielded, and their leader himself counselled no resistance,
why should they encompass their own destruction by a gesture of
futile heroism? They answered without much hesitation that they
would do as was required of them.
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