On hearing the cruel sentence, something like a gasp of pain came from
many of the men who most firmly believed in the guilt of the prisoners.
No man can ever become so degraded and hardened as not to be moved by
the approaching death of even a perfect stranger.
Badger alone was delighted at having something to do with the trial, for
it was the sheriff's duty to attend to the execution.
With the death of these two men, the work which he had pledged Shirley
to do would be completed.
More than this, with the death of these two men he felt that all danger
to himself would vanish and all suspicion be allayed.
"It's mighty hard lines, Mr. Willett," said Hank Tims as he shook his
fellow-prisoner's hand, "but one has to die sooner or later, and it
should comfort you and me at this time to know that we can leave this
world and stand in the presence of the Great Master and Chief of all,
feelin' that we ain't never done anythin' that should bring a blush of
shame to our cheeks nor a pang of regret to the friends as is left
behind."
"True, Hank, true," said Mr. Willett as he stroked his brow. "Since I
have come to feel that my boy is dead, life has lost all its charms for
me and death its terrors. What is there to live for since he is gone?
Nothing!" and with a sigh of resignation Mr. Willett let his hands fall
heavily by his side.
Badger, judging by his conduct on this occasion, must have had no little
experience in lynching affairs. He appeared before the prisoners with
ropes, and as resistance would have been useless, Mr. Willett and Hank
permitted the heartless wretch to tie their hands tightly behind their
backs.
This over, he went to the members of the vigilance committee, who were
engaged in earnest conversation outside the tent.
Having told them what he had done, Badger asked for instructions.
"We're in a kind of a fix about this onpleasant business," said one.
"Wot's the trouble?" asked Badger.
"Thar ain't no trees big enough for the purpose within twenty miles of
this," said the man.
"Then why can't they be blindfolded and shot?" asked Badger.
"'Coz the judge said to hang 'em."
"Wa'al, I don't think thar'll be any trouble in gettin' him to change
his mind," said Badger. "You see he must 'commydate the sentence to the
place."
The vigilance committee meant to do right, and they were determined to
erect a scaffold on the cliff above the creek, and carry out the
sentence as it had been ordered.
By the time these preparations were completed the sun was well down the
west.
Another hour and darkness would fall upon the world and on the lives of
the condemned men.
With more thoughtfulness than might have been expected from men of their
character, the crowd withdrew from the place in which the trial had been
held, leaving Mr. Willett and Hank alone.
It is not for us to attempt to describe the secret thoughts and feelings
of the condemned men.
They spoke but little.
Once Hank looked about him and said:
"I wonder what's become of Collins and Si Brill, they were kind to us,
and I'd like to shake hands with them and thank them before the ind
comes."
"They must know how we feel toward them, Hank, and as to their absence,
it is my belief that they have gone away to avoid witnessing the
death--the murder of two innocent men that they are powerless to
prevent," said Mr. Willett.
"Yes, that must be it. Wa'al, I never saw a lynchin' nor took part in
one, but I must confess I'd die a sight easier if I only knowed that
them two critters, Badger and Shirley, was sure to meet up with the ind
they deserve."
"You may be sure, Hank, that justice will overtake them in the end.
Standing as you are, on the edge of the grave, would you exchange places
with either of these men?"
"No, not if they was to throw in all the gold in the world to boot,"
said Hank earnestly.
"Then you see there is something which a good man dreads more than
death, Hank."
"Yes, Mr. Willett, it's a black character and a black heart."
Hank had just uttered this when the flap of the tent was pushed aside
and Badger entered, followed by a number of the committee.
"Wa'al, gents," said Badger, "we're all ready."
"And so are we," said Mr. Willett, as he and Hank rose to their feet and
stood side by side.
"This ain't pleasant work," said one of the committee with a face and
manner that told he was heartily ashamed of his part in the business,
"but it's got to be did."
Neither Mr. Willett nor Hank made any reply.
Badger and the members of the committee were all armed to the teeth, and
forming about the prisoners, they marched them down to a platform that
projected over the cliff and from the further end of which two ropes
hung down.
About this platform every man living in and about Hurley's Gulch,
excepting Si Brill and Collins, had gathered, even Frank Shirley, weak
and wicked, could not resist the temptation to see his cruel work
completed.
The ropes were made ready and the condemned men were told they could
pray for five minutes.
Instead of kneeling down both turned their faces to the setting sun, and
in all that crowd no one was calmer than they.
Suddenly the painful stillness was broken by a cry that came from the
westward and the crowd, as one man turned in that direction.
There, like a silhouette against the red face of the setting sun, they
saw a lithe figure, in the picturesque garb of a Ute Indian bounding
toward them.
"It is Ulna!" some one shouted, "Ulna coming from the direction of the
great canyon!"
"Hold! hold! hold! for your lives!"
This was shouted by a dozen stalwart horsemen, Collins and Si Brill in
the lead, who came galloping to the place of execution from the east.
As these men flung themselves from their saddles, Ulna, with compressed
lips and flashing eyes bounded through the crowd.
At a glance he took in the situation, and then in a voice that rang
clear and high as a bugle blast along the cliffs he called out:
"Sam Willett lives and he has the paper!"
"And these men shall not die, if me and my friends can help it, and
we're inclined to think we can!" thundered Collins, as he drew Mr.
Willett and Hank back from the platform and severed the cords that bound
their arms.
"And my boy still lives?" cried Mr. Willett, as he reached out his hands
to Ulna.
"Yes, he lives; I left him this morning, and----"
Mr. Willett heard no more.
The resolute heart that could face death without a tremor, was all
overcome by this joyous revelation, and he fell fainting to the ground.
"That's a Ute lie!" hissed Badger, to whose side Frank Shirley had come,
pale and trembling.
While Hank and Si Brill were restoring Mr. Willett to consciousness,
Collins called out:
"We'll see if it's a lie. Come, Ulna, my boy, tell us all about it, and
if any man tries to stop you I'll give him a chance to bite the end off
my revolver."
The coming of the young Ute, being unexpected, caused more of a
sensation than the execution of the prisoners would have done.
The mob with bated breath gathered about Ulna, and though he was wearied
with his run of fifty miles over a rough, trackless country, he told the
main points of his thrilling story in a way that convinced everyone of
the truth of his report.
For men to go down to death is an old story, but when those mourned for
as dead appear in the flesh, even those not superstitious are inclined
to wonder and to feel that a miracle has been performed.
"Do you believe that young Indian's story?" asked Shirley after he had
led Badger away from the crowd.
"I am afraid it's true," said Badger.
"Then we're beaten!" groaned Shirley.
"Not yet."
"What can be done, Badger?"
"If young Sam is alive he will try to reach here."
"Yes; there can be no doubt of that."
"Then he should be met on the way."
"By whom?"
"By us."
"If so, we should start at once."
"Yes, Mr. Shirley, there is not a minute to spare. Let us get our horses
and start as soon as it's dark," said Badger, with unusual
determination.