Softly he spoke through the bars.
"OW, BETE" he called; "she will not sell you.

She keeps you because you fought for her, and killed MON AMI, Jacques Le Beau.

And so I must take you my own way.

In a little while the moon will be up, and then I will slip a noose over your head at the end of a pole, and will choke you so quickly she will not hear a sound.

And who will know where you are gone, if the cage door is left open?
And you will fight for me at Post Fort 0' God.