You call yourself a follower of the Lord. Let me tell you that
you are no more than a bloody-minded savage, a thousandfold more guilty
than those poor creatures you are leading astray. You serve Baal, not
God, John Gib, and the devil in hell is banking his fires and counting
on your company."
He gibbered at me like a bedlamite, but I knew what I was doing. I
raised my voice, and spoke loud and clear, while my eyes held his in
that yellow dusk.
"Priest of Baal," I cried, "lying prophet! Go down on your knees and
pray for mercy. By the living God, the flames of hell are waiting for
you. The lightnings tremble in the clouds to scorch you up and send
your black soul to its own place."
His hands pawed at my throat, but the horror was descending on him. He
shrieked like a wild beast, and cast fearful eyes behind him. Then he
rushed into the dark corners, stabbing with his knife, crying that the
devils were loosed. I remember how horribly he frothed at the mouth.
"Avaunt," he howled. "Avaunt, Mel and Abaddon! Avaunt, Evil-Merodach
and Baal-Jezer! Ha! There I had ye, ye muckle goat. The stink of hell
is on ye, but ye shall not take the elect of the Lord."
He crawled on his belly, stabbing his knife into the ground.
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