"A few of the Mexicans, less fortunate than their companions, still lived. Upon these Geronimo, Juh and their fellows wrought hideously. Gripped, seemingly, by a cold, calculating frenzy of ferocity, that in another day and among a more enlightened race would have passed for religious zeal, they inflicted unspeakable torture upon the dying and nameless indignities upon the dead that would have filled with envy the high minded Christian inquisitors of the sixteenth century."
Another thing that seems much more prevalent in Edgar Rice Burroughs's writing here than in previous books I've read (keeping in mind that this is my 48th ERB book, so I speak with some context): he has honed the edge of sarcasm to razor sharpness.
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