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The Philanderers by A. E. W. (Alfred Edward Woodley) Mason
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direction. The purple was fading out of the sky, leaving it livid.

'I see,' said Drake shortly, and, replacing his pipe, he rose to his
feet. His four companions looked quickly at each other and the eldest of
them spoke.

'Look here, Drake,' said he, 'I have been thinking about this business
all night, and the more I think of it the less I like it. Of course, we
only did what we were bound to do. We couldn't get behind that evidence;
there was no choice for us; but you're the captain, and there is a
choice for you.'

'No,' replied Drake quietly. 'I too have been thinking about it all
night, and there is no choice for me.'

'But you can delay the execution until we get back.'

'I can't even do that. A week ago there was a village here.'

'It's not the man I am thinking of. I haven't lived my years in Africa to
have any feeling left for scum like that. But also I haven't lived my
years in Africa without coming to know there's one thing above all others
necessary for the white man to do, and that's to keep up the prestige of
the white man. String Gorley up if you like, but not here--not before
these blacks.'

'But that's just what I am going to do,' answered Drake, 'and just for
your reason, too--the prestige of the white man. Every day something is
stolen by these fellows, a rifle, a bayonet, rations--something. When I
find the theft out I have to punish it, haven't I? Well, how can I punish
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