T. S. Stribling

“ Moreover Lassiter had known that almost every barbarous people indulged in the practise: China, Japan, India, the South Seas; the history of the Jews record it; America feels prenatal infanticide; France taxes childlessness. And yet with the solution of mystery of Motobatl written across every page of history, Lassiter had not seen it. The promoter was chagrined at himself.
It was dawn now, and as the gray light increased, the glare of the burning trees gave way to an atmosphere filled with smoke. The vast walls of the crater were hidden and revealed by the accident of the smoke. ”

“ And the promoter broke off with a slack jaw.
And yet, now that it had happened, it was as much like Nunes as his own picture. Just what one might have expected. But it was such a fantastic sacrilege!
“The men who are guarding him are the husbands,” explained the colporteur somberly.
Lassiter looked at the seven guards around the gallant.
The muleteer himself maintained his jaunty swagger. Now and then he glanced around at the women in the rear ranks. Once he caught Lassiter's incredulous eyes. He waved gracefully, called a brilliant “Buenas dias, señor,” and smiled. ”

“ The way he laid his hand on Nunes' shoulder made Lassiter realize there was a bond between the muleteer and the son of the moonshiner that he had never suspected. He was much the same size and build as Balthasar. Lassiter thought he was going to cut the rope. Instead, Birdsong said very simply:
“Soldiers of God, this brother ain't ready to die. I know it is the law in Motobatl for adulterers to be thrown into the net, so I'm going in Brother Nunes' place.”
A gasp of horror, a breaking out of protest along the ranks. Men left the line and came running in with dissuasions. ”