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d； 〃I saw； in those days…yes； I saw lots of good ones die。 Yes； a lot of good ones have died。 I almost got used to death 。。。 no； never quite。〃
〃Should we take a vote？〃 asked Ish。
〃What on？〃 said George。
Again there was a pause。
〃We can run him out；〃 said Ezra； 〃or 。。。 the other。 We can't imprison him； and what else is there？〃
Then Em faced the issue squarely。
〃We can vote Banishment； or we can vote Death。〃
There was plenty of paper in the living…room desk。 The children enjoyed drawing pictures on it。 After a little hunting around； Em located four pencils。 Ish tore a sheet of paper into four small ballots； kept one himself； and gave one to each of the others。 With four people to vote； there might； of course； be a tie。
Ish took his own slip of paper； and wrote a big B on it； and then paused。
This we do； not hastily； this we do； not in passion； this we do； without hatred。
This is not the battle； when a man strikes fiercely and fear drives him on。 This is not the hot quarrel when two strive for place or the love of a woman。
Knot the rope； whet the ax； pour the poison； pile the faggots。
This is the one who killed his fellow unprovoked； this is the one who stole the child away； this is the one who spat upon the image of our God； this is the one who leagued himself with the Devil to be a witch； this is the one who corrupted our youth； this is the one who told the enemy of our secret places。
We are afraid； but we do not talk of fear。 We have many deep thoughts and doubts； but we do not speak them。 We say； 〃Justice〃； we say； 〃The Law〃； we say； 〃We； the people〃； we say； 〃The State。〃
Still Ish sat with his pencil poised above the B on his slip of paper。 He knew； far within the deeper reaches of his thought； that Charlie's banishment would； in all likelihood； not solve the situation。 Charlie would be back； he was a strong and dangerous man； and could exert much influence upon the younger people。 〃What's the matter？〃 Ish was thinking。 〃Am I still just worrying about the leadership？ Am I worrying that Charlie will replace me？〃 He could not be sure。 Yet； at the same time； he knew that The Tribe faced here something real and dangerous and even dreadful； in the long run threatening its very existence。 In that final realization he knew that he could write only the one word there； out of love and responsibility for his children and grandchildren。 He scratched out the B and wrote the other word。 Its five letters stared back vacantly at him； and then for a moment he had a sudden revulsion of feeling。 Was this ever right？ By writing that word； was he not bringing back into the world all the beginnings of war and tyranny； of the oppression of the individual by the mass； in themselves diseases worse than any which Charlie could carry。 And why did it all have to move so fast？
He started to scratch the word out； but stopped again。 No； he was torn two ways； but he could not quite scratch it。 If Charlie should kill someone； that might make it easier to inflict the final penalty； and yet that was only the old conventional way of thinking。 The eye for the eye； and the tooth for the tooth！ To execute the murderer never brought back the murdered； and was only vengeance。 To be effective； punishment should not be retribution so much as a prevention。
How long had he paused？ He suddenly came to the realization that he was sitting there silent； staring at the paper； while the other three were waiting for him。 After all； his was only one vote； the others could out…vote him； and so he could have his conscience to himself and still Charlie would only be banished。 〃Give me your slips；〃 he said。
They passed them in； and he laid them face up before him on the desk。 Four times he looked； and he read： 〃Death 。。。 death 。。。 death 。。。 death。〃
Chapter 8
They shoveled the dirt back into the grave beneath the oak tree。 They dragged branches and carried heavy stones to cover it； so that what lay beneath would be safe from burrowing coyotes。 After that； they all walked back； the long mile。
They kept close together； as if needing one another's support。 Ish walked among them； swinging his hammer in his tight hand。 He had had no use for the hammer； but still he had taken it along。 Now the downward pull of its weight seemed to keep him firmly on the ground。 He had held it in his hand； like a badge of office； when they had gone to find Charlie and； flanked by the boys' leveled rifles； Ish had said the words and heard Charlie begin to curse obscenely。
Now it would never be the same again。 Ish did not like to think of what had happened； and when he did think of it； he felt a little sick； physically。 Perhaps； if it had not been for George's solidity； they could never have gone through with it finally。 George； with his practical skill； had knotted the rope and set up the ladder。
No； he would never like to think of it in the future； either。 He was sure of that also。 This was an end； and this was also a beginning。 It was the end of those twenty…one years when they had lived； now he thought； in a kind of idyllic state； as it might have been in some old Garden of Eden。 They had known their troubles； they had even known death。 But it had been simple； as he looked back toward it。 This was an end； Yet； it was also a beginning； and a long road lay ahead。 In the past； there had been only a little group of people； scarcely more than an overgrown family。 In the future； there would be the State；
Yet there was an irony。 The State…it should be a kind of nourishing mother； protecting the individuals in their weakness； permitting a fuller life。 And now the first act of the State； its originating function； had been to bring death。 Well； who could say？ Likely enough； in the dim past reaches of time； the State had always sprung from the need to crystallize power in some troublous time； and primitive power must often have expressed itself in death。
〃It was necessary。。。。 It was necessary；〃 he kept saying to himself。 Yes； he could justify the act on the highest of all grounds…the safety and happiness of The Tribe。 By the one sharp act； evil and ugly though it seemed； he and the others had prevented…so at least they would hope…all that chain of ugliness and evil which ran on； once started； through the years。 Now…so at least they would hope…there would be no endless succession of blind babies； and of trembling； witless old men； and of marriages defiled even in their consummation。
Yet he did not like to think about it。 He could justify it rationally。 Even though the facts were not wholly proved； the chance had been too great to take。
But he would never be sure how much other motives； secondary and personal； had swayed him。 Guiltily he remembered how his heart had leaped when Ezra's words had given support to his own dislike and fear； and to his apprehension that his leadership was chaflenged。 Well； he would never know。 Now； in any case； it was finished。 No； he would only say； 〃It is done。〃 Too often； he remembered his history； executions had finished nothing； and dead men had risen from their graves； and their souls had marched on。 But Charlie had not seemed