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- Артур Конан Дойл
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"
Yes
,
there
you
are
,
you
English
dog
,
and
there
you
will
remain
!
I
have
waited
and
waited
,
and
now
has
come
my
chance
.
You
found
it
hard
to
get
up
;
you
will
find
it
harder
to
get
down
.
You
cursed
fools
,
you
are
trapped
,
every
one
of
you
!
"
We
were
too
astounded
to
speak
.
We
could
only
stand
there
staring
in
amazement
.
A
great
broken
bough
upon
the
grass
showed
whence
he
had
gained
his
leverage
to
tilt
over
our
bridge
.
The
face
had
vanished
,
but
presently
it
was
up
again
,
more
frantic
than
before
.
"
We
nearly
killed
you
with
a
stone
at
the
cave
,
"
he
cried
;
"
but
this
is
better
.
It
is
slower
and
more
terrible
.
Your
bones
will
whiten
up
there
,
and
none
will
know
where
you
lie
or
come
to
cover
them
.
As
you
lie
dying
,
think
of
Lopez
,
whom
you
shot
five
years
ago
on
the
Putomayo
River
.
I
am
his
brother
,
and
,
come
what
will
I
will
die
happy
now
,
for
his
memory
has
been
avenged
.
"
A
furious
hand
was
shaken
at
us
,
and
then
all
was
quiet
.
Had
the
half-breed
simply
wrought
his
vengeance
and
then
escaped
,
all
might
have
been
well
with
him
.
It
was
that
foolish
,
irresistible
Latin
impulse
to
be
dramatic
which
brought
his
own
downfall
.
Roxton
,
the
man
who
had
earned
himself
the
name
of
the
Flail
of
the
Lord
through
three
countries
,
was
not
one
who
could
be
safely
taunted
.
The
half-breed
was
descending
on
the
farther
side
of
the
pinnacle
;
but
before
he
could
reach
the
ground
Lord
John
had
run
along
the
edge
of
the
plateau
and
gained
a
point
from
which
he
could
see
his
man
.
There
was
a
single
crack
of
his
rifle
,
and
,
though
we
saw
nothing
,
we
heard
the
scream
and
then
the
distant
thud
of
the
falling
body
.
Roxton
came
back
to
us
with
a
face
of
granite
.
"
I
have
been
a
blind
simpleton
,
"
said
he
,
bitterly
,
"
It
's
my
folly
that
has
brought
you
all
into
this
trouble
.
I
should
have
remembered
that
these
people
have
long
memories
for
blood-feuds
,
and
have
been
more
upon
my
guard
.
"
"
What
about
the
other
one
?
It
took
two
of
them
to
lever
that
tree
over
the
edge
.
"
"
I
could
have
shot
him
,
but
I
let
him
go
.
He
may
have
had
no
part
in
it
.
Perhaps
it
would
have
been
better
if
I
had
killed
him
,
for
he
must
,
as
you
say
,
have
lent
a
hand
.
"
Now
that
we
had
the
clue
to
his
action
,
each
of
us
could
cast
back
and
remember
some
sinister
act
upon
the
part
of
the
half-breed
--
his
constant
desire
to
know
our
plans
,
his
arrest
outside
our
tent
when
he
was
over-hearing
them
,
the
furtive
looks
of
hatred
which
from
time
to
time
one
or
other
of
us
had
surprised
.
We
were
still
discussing
it
,
endeavoring
to
adjust
our
minds
to
these
new
conditions
,
when
a
singular
scene
in
the
plain
below
arrested
our
attention
.
A
man
in
white
clothes
,
who
could
only
be
the
surviving
half-breed
,
was
running
as
one
does
run
when
Death
is
the
pacemaker
.
Behind
him
,
only
a
few
yards
in
his
rear
,
bounded
the
huge
ebony
figure
of
Zambo
,
our
devoted
negro
.
Even
as
we
looked
,
he
sprang
upon
the
back
of
the
fugitive
and
flung
his
arms
round
his
neck
.
They
rolled
on
the
ground
together
.
An
instant
afterwards
Zambo
rose
,
looked
at
the
prostrate
man
,
and
then
,
waving
his
hand
joyously
to
us
,
came
running
in
our
direction
.
The
white
figure
lay
motionless
in
the
middle
of
the
great
plain
.
