 . . . .
 . . .
For the next half hour we waited and watched from our hidden vantage point among the trees. For the first half of that time, little happened. The rednecks only snacked on the remains of the hippies. Then one of them walked over to Starshine. I tensed. Franklin put his hand on my shoulder, the message being that I should remain quiet; however, I noticed that he pulled the hammer of his Colt back to the fully cocked position. The fat redneck untied Starshine and dragged her over to the bon fire. The five of us readied to attack, believing that she would be slaughtered and eaten like the rest. Our charge would be premature for sure, but we could not stand by and watch her die. The grease ball, however, had something else in mind. We held our positions quietly for the next fifteen minutes as the rednecks had their way with her. It was hard to watch, but it bought us the time we needed. When they were done, the fat one dragged her back to the tower and tied her up
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