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On projecting points of these, above the spot chosen by Uraga for his camp, the black vultures are still perched. Though 'tis not their usual roosting-place, they have remained there all night, now and then giving utterance to their hoarse, guttural croaks, when some howling, predatory quadruped -- coyote or puma -- ap... |
Ten men lie prostrate upon the sward; not asleep, as the vultures well know -- nor yet reclining to rest themselves. Their attitudes are evidence against this. They lie with bodies bent and limbs stiff, some of them contorted to unnatural postures. Besides, on the grass-blades around are drops and gouts of blood, grown... |
From these sanguinary symbols the vultures are well aware that the recumbent forms are neither asleep nor reposing. Every bird knows that every man of them is dead; and, though still clad in the uniform of soldiers, with all the gay insignia of lancers, they are but clay-cold corpses. |
It is the firing party, still lying as it fell; not a figure disturbed, not a coat stripped off nor pocket rifled; no strap, plume, or pennon displaced since the moment when all dropped dead almost simultaneously at the detonation of the Rangers' rifles. |
Except the tents, which are still set as before, this cluster of corpses is the only thing seeming unchanged since yesterday's sun went down. For it was after sunset when the pursuers returned, bringing their prisoners along with them. As on yesterday, two captives are seen under the same tree, where late lay Don Valer... |
A few men -- those of inferior standing -- look after the animals; while the larger number is gathered into a group near the centre of the camp ground. Their air, attitudes, earnest speech, and excited gesticulations tell they are taking counsel on some matter of serious import. |
Walt Wilder is among them, Hamersley being absent. The latter is inside the square tent, in pleasanter companionship. |
He is seated upon a catre, Adela by his side, her hand clasping his. This without any bashfulness or reserve at her brother being present. Which he is, along with the dear old doctor, both now released from their bonds. It is a tableau of true love, wreathed with fraternal affection. |
With devotion also, of an humbler kind, Conchita is passing out and in, rejoicing in a general way. She pays no attention to a peon who lies tied behind the tent -- Jose; and gives only scorn to another seen fast bound beside him -- Manuel. |
Notwithstanding her knowledge that this man is madly in love with her -- for she now also knows how much he has been a traitor -- her thoughts, as her eyes, are upon one more true -- on her grand, gallant Tejano! She is proud to observe the distinguished part he plays among his compaisanos. For, in truth, Walt is doin... |
No question of life and death. It has been, but is no longer. The latter has been unanimously decreed, the verdict declared, the sentence pronounced. Their talk now only relates to the manner of execution. |
The Ranger Captain, who presides, puts the interrogatory thus: |
"Well, boys, what are we to do with them? Shoot or hang?" |
"Hang!" is the response from more than a majority of voices. |
"Shootin' is too clean a death for scoundrels sech as them," is the commentary of a voice recognisable as that of Nat Cully. |
"They ought to be scalped, skinned, an' quartered," adds a man disposed to severer punishment. |
"Yes!" affirms another of the like inclining. "A bit of torture wouldn't be more than the rascals deserve." |
"Come, comrades!" cries the Ranger Captain. "Remember, we are Texans, and not savages like those we're about to punish. Sufficient to send them out of the world without acting inhumanly. You all declare for hanging?" |
"All!" |
"Enough! Where shall we string them up?" |
"Yonner's a pick spot," responds Wilder, pointing out the two trees to which Don Valerian and the doctor had been lately lashed. "They kin each hev a branch separate, so's not to crowd one the t'other in makin' tracks to etarnity." |
"Jest the place!" endorses Cully. "Kedn't be a better gallis if the sheriff o' Pike County, Massoury, had rigged it up hisself. We'll gie 'em a tree apiece, as they war about to do wi' thar innocent prisoners. Takin' their places'll be turn an' turn about. That's fair, I reckin." |
"Boys!" cries Walt, "look out a cupple o' layvettes, an' fetch 'em this way." |
Several start towards the horse-drove, and soon return with the trail-ropes. Then all proceed towards the two trees. Each chances to have a large limb extending horizontally outward from the trunk. Over each a tazo is flung, one end left loose, the other remaining in the hand of him who pitched it. Before flinging them... |
"Who's to haul up?" asks the Ranger Captain; adding, "Boys! 'Taint a nice business, I know; but I suppose there's some of you willing to undertake it." |
Some of them! |
Forty voices, nearly all present, are heard crying out with one accord -- |
"I'm willing!" |
In fact, every man upon the ground seems eager to take part in a duty which, under other circumstances, would be not only disagreeable, but disgusting to them. Rough, rude men as most of the Rangers are, little prone to delicate sentimentalism, they are, nevertheless, true to the ordinary instincts of humanity. Accusto... |
In the present case they have no scruples on the score of colour. What has been told them about their two prisoners -- the atrocities these have committed -- puts all this aside. The tale has made a profound impression upon their minds; and, beyond any motive of mere revenge, they are stirred by a sense of just retribu... |
Chapter Seventy Eight. |
A Living Scaffold. |
Captain Haynes, seeing there will be no difficulty in obtaining executioners, deems everything settled, and is about ordering the prisoners to be brought up. Being a man of humane feelings, with susceptibilities that make him somewhat averse to performing the part of sheriff, it occurs to him that he can avoid the disa... |
For this he selects Walt Wilder, who in turn chooses Nat Cully to assist him. The two assume superintendence of the ceremony, and the Ranger Captain retires from the ground. |
After communing for some seconds between themselves, and in sotto voce, as if arranging the mode of execution, Walt faces round to the assembled Texans, saying -- |
"Wal, boys, thar 'pears to be no stint o' hangmen among ye. This chile niver seed so many o' the Jack Ketch kind since he fust set foot on the soil o' Texas. Maybe it's the smell o' these Mexikins makes ye so savagerous." |
Walt's quaint speech elicits a general laugh, but suppressed. The scene is too solemn for an ebullition of boisterous mirth. The ex-Ranger continues -- |
"I see you'll want to have a pull at these ropes. But I reckon we'll have to disapp'int ye. The things we're agoin' to swing up don't desarve hoistin' to etarnity by free-born citizens o' the Lone Star State. 'Twould be a burnin' shame for any Texan to do the hangin' o' sech skunks as they." |
"What do you mean, Walt?" one asks. "Somebody must hoist them up!" |
"'Taint at all necessary. They kin be strung 'ithout e'er a hand techin' trail-rope." |
"How?" inquire several voices. |
"Wal, thar's a way Nat Cully an' me hev been speaking o'. I've heern o' them Mexikins practisin' themselves on thar Injun prisoners for sport. We'll gie' 'em a dose o' their own medicine. Some o' you fellows go an' fetch a kupple o' pack mules. Ye may take the saddles off -- they won't be needed." |
Half-a-dozen of the Rangers rush out, and return leading two mules, having hastily stripped off their alparejas. |
"Now!" cries Walt, "conduct hyar the kriminals!" |
A party proceeds to the spot where the two prisoners lie; and taking hold, raise them to an erect attitude. Then, half carrying, half dragging, bring them under the branches designed for their gallows-tree. |
With their splendid uniforms torn, mud-bedaubed, and stained with spots of blood, they present a sorry spectacle. They resemble wounded wolves, taken in a trap; nevertheless, bearing their misfortune in a far different manner. Roblez looks the large, grey wolf -- savage, reckless, unyielding; Uraga, the coyote -- cowed... |
For a time neither speaks a word nor makes an appeal for mercy. They seem to know it would be idle. Regarding the faces around, they may well think so. There is not one but has "death" plainly stamped upon it, as if the word itself were upon every lip. |
There is an interval of profound silence, only broken by the croak of the buzzards and the swish of their spread wings. The bodies of the dead lancers lie neglected; and, the Rangers now further off, the birds go nearer them. Wolves, too, begin to show themselves by the edge of the underwood -- from the stillness think... |
"Take off thar leg fastenin's!" commands Wilder, pointing to the prisoners. |
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