Again the silence fell.
Then at the end of what seemed to the Easterner a full minute the
masked figure in front spoke.
"Thar is them that thinks as how it ain't noways needful thet ye
knows," it said in slow and solemn accents, "but by the mercy of th'
others we gives y' thet much satisfaction."
"You comes hyar from a great corp'ration thet in times gone by we
thinks is public spirited an' enterprisin', which is a mistake. You
pays th' debt of said corp'ration, so they sez, an' tharfore we
welcomes you to our bosom cordial. What happens? You insults us by
paying such low-down ornary cusses as Snowie. Th' camp is just. She
arises an' avenges said insult by stringin' of you up all right an'
proper. We gives you five minutes to get ready."
"What do you mean?"
"We hangs you in five minutes."
The slow, even voice ceased, and again the silence was broken only by
the occasional bursting crackle of a blister in the pine torches.
Bennington tried to realize the situation. It had all come about so
suddenly.
"I guess you've got the joke on me, boys," he ventured with a nervous
little laugh. And then his voice died away against the stony
immobility of the man opposite as laughter sinks to nothing against
the horror of a great darkness. Bennington began to feel impressed in
earnest. Across his mind crept doubts as to the outcome. He almost
screamed aloud as some one stole up behind and dropped over his throat
the soft cold coil of a lariat. Then, at a signal from the chief, the
two men haled him away.
They stopped beneath a gnarled oak halfway down the slope to the gulch
bottom, from which protruded, like a long witch arm, a single withered
branch. Over this the unseen threw the end of the lariat. Bennington
faced the expressionless gaze of twenty masks, on which the torchlight
threw Strong black shadows. Directly in front of him the leader posted
himself, watch in hand.
"Any last requests?" he inquired in his measured tones.
Bennington felt the need of thinking quickly, but, being unused to
emergencies, he could not.
"Anywhar y' want yore stuff sent?" the other pursued relentlessly.
Bennington swallowed, and found his voice at last.
"Now be reasonable," he pleaded. "It isn't going to do you any good to
hang me. I didn't mean to make any distinctions. I just paid the oldest
debts, that's all. You'll all get paid. There'll be some more money
after a while, and then I can pay some more of you. If you kill me, you
won't get any at all."
"Won't get any any way," some one muttered audibly from the crowd.
The man with the watch never stirred.
"Two minutes more," he said simply.