Thou hast made me foolish; prepare for death." "I am the king's ox," was the low answer.
"Scragga," roared the king, "let me see how thou canst use thy spear.
Kill me this blundering fool." Scragga stepped forward with an ill-favoured grin, and lifted his spear.

The poor victim covered his eyes with his hand and stood still.
As for us, we were petrified with horror.
"Once, twice," he waved the spear, and then struck, ah! right home--the spear stood out a foot behind the soldier's back.

He flung up his hands and dropped dead.

From the multitude about us rose something like a murmur, it rolled round and round, and died away.

The tragedy was finished; there lay the corpse, and we had not yet realised that it had been enacted.