howl as though he were performing an important and indispensable act.
He would fill his chest with air and then exhale it. slowly in a
prolonged tremulous howl, and, cocking his eyes, would listen intently
as the sound issued forth. And the very quiver in his voice seemed in
a manner intentional. He did not scream wildly, but drew out each note
carefully in that mournful wail full of untold sorrow and terror.

Then he would suddenly break off howling and for several minutes would
remain silent, still standing on all fours. Then suddenly he would
mutter softly, staring at the ground:

"My darlings, my sweethearts! . . . My darlings, my sweethearts! have
pity. . . . My darlings! . . . My sweethearts!"

And it seemed again as if he were listening intently to his own voice.
As he said each word he would listen.

Then he would jump up and for a whole hour would curse continually.

He cursed picturesquely, shouting and rolling his blood-shot eyes.

"If you hang me-hang me!" and he would burst out cursing again.

And the sentinel, in the meantime white as chalk, weeping with pain
and fright, would knock at the door with the butt-end of the gun and
cry helplessly:

"I'll fire! I'll kill you as sure as I live! Do you hear?"

But he dared not shoot. If there was no actual rebellion they never