"How's this, Jim?" said one of the men to his comrade, as they stooped
to lift the nearest victim of Dr. Syx's withering fire. "What's this
fellow got all over him?"
"Artemisium! 'pon my soul!" responded "Jim," staring at the
body. "He's all coated over with it."
Immediately from all sides came similar exclamations. Every man who
had fallen was covered with a film of the precious metal, as if he had
been dipped into an electrolytic bath. Clothing seemed to have been
charred, and the metallic atoms had penetrated the flesh of the
victims. The rocks all round the battle-field were similarly
veneered. "It looks to me," said Captain Carter, "as if old Syx had
turned one of his spouts of artemisium into a hose-pipe and soaked 'em
with it."
"That's it," chimed in a lieutenant, "that's exactly what he's done."
"Well," returned the captain, "if he can do that, I don't see what use
he's got for us here."
"Probably he don't want to waste the stuff," said the
lieutenant. "What do you suppose it cost him to plate this crowd?"
"I guess a month's pay for the whole troop wouldn't cover the
expense.
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