where Antonov stood, calm and impassive, but looking so frail and helpless before this avalanche of men.
Raising his hand and voice, Antonov cried out, "Tovarishe, you cannot kill them. The Yunkers have surrendered. They are our prisoners."
The throng was stunned. Then in a hoarse cry of resentment it found its voice. a No! No! They are not our prisoners," it protested. "They are dead men."
"They have given up their arms," continued Antonov. "I have given them their lives."
"You may give them their lives. We don't. We give them the bayonet!" bawled a big peasant turning to the crowd for approval.
"The bayonet! Yes, we give them the bayonet!" they howled in a blast of approbation.
Antonov faced the tornado. Drawing a big revolver, he waved it aloft, crying out, "I have given the Yunkers my word for their safety. You understand! I will back my word with this."
The crowd gasped. This was incredible.
"What's this? What do you mean?" they demanded.
Clutching his revolver, finger on the trigger, Antonov repeated his warning: "I promised them their lives. I will back that promise with this."
"Traitor! Renegade!" a hundred voices thundered at him. "Defender of the White Guards!" a
