Surrounded by soldiers, Barney Custer walked from the presence of
the military court. It was to him as though he moved in a strange
world of dreams. He saw the look of satisfaction upon the face of
Peter of Blentz as he passed him, and the open sneer of Maenck. As
yet he did not fully realize what it all meant--that he was marching
to his death! For the last time he was looking upon the faces of his
fellow men; for the last time he had seen the sun rise, never again
to see it set.
He was to be "destroyed." He had heard that expression used many
times in connection with useless horses, or vicious dogs.
Mechanically he drew a cigarette from his pocket and lighted it.
There was no bravado in the act. On the contrary it was done almost
unconsciously. The soldiers marched him through the streets of
Burgova. The men were entirely impassive--even so early in the war
they had become accustomed to this grim duty. The young officer who
commanded them was more nervous than the prisoner--it was his first
detail with a firing squad. He looked wonderingly at Barney,
expecting momentarily to see the man collapse, or at least show some
sign of terror at his close impending fate; but the American walked
silently toward his death, puffing leisurely at his cigarette.
At last, after what seemed a long time, his guard turned in at a
large gateway in a brick wall surrounding a factory.
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