THE TRIPLE EXECUTION--A SOLDIER'S GRAVE--TORO'S LUCK.
Morning dawned.
The eastern sky was only just tinged with the light of the rising sun
when the bugle call summoned the firing party.
The party in question was composed of six men commanded by Hunston.
He had insisted upon having this post, one that none of the brigands
envied him--so that he might gloat over his victims at the last hour.
The two boys were aroused with some difficulty, for strange though it
may appear, they were sleeping soundly when the fatal moment
approached.
"Come," said the girl, in a hollow voice. "Lirico is already on the
ground."
"We mustn't be behindhand then."
"No," added Harry Girdwood; "they must see how Englishmen can face
death."
And then, led by the girl who had, to her sorrow, brought them to this
dire pass, they came to the spot where the tragedy was to take place.
Lirico, the traitor, was already pinioned, and he stood with his eyes
bandaged upon the edge of the grave which was shortly to receive his
lifeless body.
Upon either side of this was a newly-dug trench or grave.
One of these was for young Jack.
The other was for his stout-hearted comrade.
They needed no telling what to do now; but each went through his part
in the horrible ceremony as though it had been previously rehearsed.
Not a word was spoken.
The only signs of emotion which the boys exhibited were when they
silently wrung each other's hands before taking their places before
their graves.
The girl passed before each of the unhappy victims and shook them by
the hand one after the other. "Courage," she said, in a low but firm
voice, "courage, brave hearts."
"Bandage their eyes," said Hunston.
"No; let us look upon our fate," said young Jack.
"The old Harkaway brag to the very last," said Hunston, with a sneer.
"You don't like to look a Harkaway in the face, assassin!" retorted the
boy.
"Fool!" exclaimed Hunston, "since you want it, you shall have it. Fire
at the middle first. They can have an opportunity of seeing a real man
die before their eyes. It may give them a relish for their own share to
follow."
The word was given.
"Ready! Present! Fire!"
The six rifles flashed simultaneously.
Then, as the wounded Lirico was struck, he bounded into the air and
fell back into the grave--stone dead!
Hunston stood smiling grimly, even while the very men turned sick at
the butchery they were forced to enact.
He, with fiend-like satisfaction, noticed the sickly pallor of the two
boys' faces, and it gladdened his black heart.
"They aren't quite so happy now," he muttered. "Now it is they suffer.
Oh, if Harkaway were here too. It would make me drunk with joy."
The girl turned to young Jack.
"Courage," she whispered, "courage; be bold."
And then turning to the firing party, she said--
"Come, do not delay. It is needless to prolong the sufferings which
these poor boys feel already."
"Silence, and begone!" exclaimed Hunston fiercely. "You have no right
to speak to the men."
"I have every right," returned the woman, boldly. "Silence yourself, I
say, and know your place!"
Her voice and manner half-awed Hunston, who fell back a pace or two.
"My poor comrades," she went on, addressing the firing party, "this
work is not to your taste. I'll load for you."
So saying, she set to work to reload the rifles, which were piled now.
And she observed the very greatest care in this task.
"Not a shot must miss," she said to the men of the firing party,
earnestly. "Every bullet must have its billet. We have to murder, but
even then not to torture, these unhappy boys."
Hunston smiled sardonically.
"How very tender-hearted you have become," he said, with a sneer of
contempt.
"Silence!" said the girl, turning fiercely upon him, so that he
actually quailed before her indignant gaze. "Silence, I tell you,
bully--butcher--villain--silence!"
Hunston would have retorted at this, but prudence bade him be silent.
For the girl was a great favourite with all the men, and he feared that
they might take up the cudgels for her in a way which might be
unpleasant for him.
"So, young Harkaway," he said, jeeringly, "you wish to see it all go
before you. It prolongs your pleasure, and so I can't complain. This
one next."
He pointed with his sword to Harry Girdwood.
The latter looked deadly pale but resolute.
"Ready! Present! Fire!"
Young Jack turned half round, and saw his brave comrade clap his hand
to his breast, totter and fall.
A cry rose to his lips.
But he stifled it ere Hunston should have this small gratification.
Hunston looked round at young Jack, and he positively bit his lips with
sheer vexation to find that he was unable to make the boy betray the
least sign of fear.
"You keep it up well, boy," said Hunston, "but I know well that you are
ready to sink through the ground with fear, nevertheless."
"Liar!"
Hunston flushed purple.
But he kept down his rage.
"As you are going to die, boy, I may let you off the birching which
your impertinence merits. You have all the old brag of your father."
Jack was silent.
"All his deceit; all his sham and falseness--"
The boy said nothing.
"All his craven-hearted, black-hearted villany."
But young Jack saw through the other's game clearly enough.
He held his peace.
He knew well enough that the real way to enrage the ruffian was to
appear unmoved at his taunts.
So when Hunston had exhausted his expletives and was about to give the
word to the firing party, young Jack spoke.
"One moment."
Hunston made the men a sign to ground arms.
The boy was about to beg for mercy.
Here, then, there was one chance of wreaking his spite upon the lad.
Now he should be able to feast his ears with the unhappy boy's piteous
appeals, for he well judged that, once he began to plead for pity, all
his fortitude would go.
"Before they fire," said young Jack, pale but resolute, as his comrade
Harry had just shown himself, "one word."
"Go on."
"I can speak as one on the brink of the grave," said the boy, "and so
my words may be prophetic. Before many weeks are over, you shall kneel
and sue for mercy to my father, and it will be denied you. You will
grovel in the dirt, and crawl and cringe in abject misery; but it will
be hopeless, and in the bitterness of your despair you will think of
this moment, and curse the hour you ever molested one of my race, or
anyone in whom we are interested."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Hunston, in a boisterous and forced manner;
"quite a sermon. Preaching is a new quality in the Harkaways. It is
unfortunate that you are to be cut off in your early youth. You would
soon bloom into an odd mixture of Puritan and bully."
But he could not provoke his victim.
Having said all he had to say, young Jack coolly folded his arms and
waited the end of the tragedy, apparently not hearing what Hunston was
saying.
* * * * *
"Make ready! Present! Fire!"
As the word was spoken, the volley was fired.
The unhappy boy--the last of the three victims--threw up his arms, and
fell back into the new-made grave yawning to receive him.
Poor young Jack!
The body did not even quiver after it had fallen into the grave.
Apparently death had been instantaneous.
"Fill in the graves and cover up the carrion," said Hunston; "and then
let us get away and make merry."
The girl stepped up and interposed herself.
"Begone and leave the rest to me,"
"To you?"
"Aye."
"What for?"
"It was so agreed," said one of the men.
"Let us pray for them now," said the girl. "Surely, having destroyed
their bodies, you do not wish them any further harm."
She waited for no reply, but falling upon her knees, was soon lost in
holy meditation, her hands clasped fervently, her head bent upon her
breast.
The men doffed their hats reverently and glided noiselessly away.
Hunston feared to shock their superstitious susceptibilities, and so he
followed them in silence.
* * * * *
For several hours she was left to her meditations.
And when, some hours later in the day, Hunston returned to the spot,
the three graves were filled in.
Over those of the two unhappy lads some pious hands had raised a rough
wooden cross.
"The first to taste our vengeance," muttered Hunston.
"May the others soon follow," said a voice at his elbow.
He started.
It was Toro.
"This is the turn of our luck," said the Italian, exultingly.
"I hope so."
"I feel it so. The rest of the hated race will soon follow, if we have
the least good fortune."