The brave fellow nodded; he could not speak. He had a wife and child at home.
They were unbound from the tree, but their arms and limbs were kept tightly pinioned. Ropes were brought and tied around their necks, and the free ends thrown over a limb of the tree.
“Can ye tie a true hangman’s knot, Jack?” asked Red of the villain who was adjusting the rope around Calhoun’s neck.
“That I can, Red,” he answered, with a chuckling laugh. “It’s as neat a job as eny sheriff can do.”
The sun had just sunk to rest; the gloom of night was settling over the forest. Calhoun saw the shadows thicken among the trees. The darkness of death would soon be upon him.
“String ’em up!” shouted Red.
Just then the solemn hoot of a distant owl was heard. One of the men holding the rope dropped it, and shivered from head to foot.
“Boys,” he whispered, “let’s don’t do it. That’s a note of warning. I never knew it to fail.”
“Cuss ye fo’ a white-livered coward!” yelled Red Bill. “String them up, I tell ye!”
For answer there came the sharp crack of rifles, the rush of armed men, and the infuriated Texans were on them. No mercy was shown; in a moment it was all over.