“Just let Jim Davis lay his hands on you, that’s all!” added another; “he’ll settle your affair sudden, now I tell you.”
Walter Butler lay writhing in ineffectual efforts to free himself; his struggles attracted Sim’s attention.
“Somebody hold the old chap a minute,” he said; “while I get the halter for the captain, the noose ’ill fit his neck as well as any other wild colt’s.”
Colonel Wesson checked them in their project.
“He is here taken on our ground—a spy, and worse than a spy. Mr. Butler must be brought before a court-martial,” he said; “we will give him a fair trial. You have no right to commit murder.”
“Who wants to commit murder?” said Sim. “I only meant to noose him, that’s all. Here, old shaking bones, stand up and have your hands tied—come along.” “Oh, don’t, don’t!” shrieked the trembling coward. “Let me go—I’ve got a wife and child!”
At this moment the mother and daughter rushed into the room, where they had remained concealed, quaking with fear, and besought Colonel Wesson to spare his life.
“We shall not harm him,” replied the soldier; “but he must go with us; his fate is in the hands of others.”
“They’ll hang me! They’ll hang me!” groaned the farmer.
“Of course they will,” said Sim, consolingly; “but it’s quick over! Set fire to old Davis’s haystacks, will you? you pesky old weasel!”