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It
was
over
before
Hawat
’
s
tired
men
could
gather
their
wits
.
The
group
with
the
body
hanging
like
a
sack
in
its
enfolding
robe
was
gone
around
a
turn
in
the
cliff
.
One
of
Hawat
’
s
men
shouted
:
“
Where
they
going
with
Arkie
?
He
was
—
”
“
They
’
re
taking
him
to
.
.
.
bury
him
,
”
Hawat
said
.
“
Fremen
don
’
t
bury
their
dead
!
”
the
man
barked
.
“
Don
’
t
you
try
any
tricks
on
us
,
Thufir
.
We
know
what
they
do
.
Arkie
was
one
of
—
”
“
Paradise
were
sure
for
a
man
who
died
in
the
service
of
Lisan
al
-
Gaib
,
”
the
Fremen
said
.
“
If
it
is
the
Lisan
al
-
Gaib
you
serve
,
as
you
have
said
it
,
why
raise
mourning
cries
?
The
memory
of
one
who
died
in
this
fashion
will
live
as
long
as
the
memory
of
man
endures
.
”
But
Hawat
’
s
men
advanced
,
angry
looks
on
their
faces
.
One
had
captured
a
lasgun
.
He
started
to
draw
it
.
“
Stop
right
where
you
are
!
”
Hawat
barked
.
He
fought
down
the
sick
fatigue
that
gripped
his
muscles
.
“
These
people
respect
our
dead
.
Customs
differ
,
but
the
meaning
’
s
the
same
.
”
“
They
’
re
going
to
render
Arkie
down
for
his
water
,
”
the
man
with
the
lasgun
snarled
.
“
Is
it
that
your
men
wish
to
attend
the
ceremony
?
”
the
Fremen
asked
.
He
doesn
’
t
even
see
the
problem
,
Hawat
thought
.
The
naïveté
of
the
Fremen
was
frightening
.
