The picture is one never to be forgotten.

It thrills every one who looks on.

No one seems to have a gun or weapon of any kind. A peculiar paralysis
affects them, a feeling of dumb horror.

A shriek sounds; from a window is seen the form of a native woman, who
wrings her hands in terrible anguish.

The child's mother! God pity her! to be an eye-witness of her darling's
fate!

Lady Ruth turns to the colonel, to the man who so recently proudly
declared that no English woman ever asked a favor that a British officer
would not grant, no matter what the risk.

"Save the darling!" her pallid lips utter.

He trembles all over, groans, takes a couple of tottering steps
forward, and then leans against the wall for support.

"I cannot," he gasps.

Other Britons there are who would be equal to the emergency. Mortal man
has never done aught in this world that Englishmen dare not imitate, and
indeed they generally lead. It is unfortunate for England that an
antipathy for dogs runs in the Blunt family.