In spite of protests made by Judge LeMonde and others, preparations for the tragic act were quickly made. A man had cut a clothesline in his yard and had brought it to the bridge.
Hiram Sanders spoke quickly and with a tone of authority: "Damon Craig, take this rope, tie a small stone to one end, and throw it over that big limb of the tall walnut tree standing by the crick."
Damon Craig instantly obeyed, and with one attempt the rope was thrown over and both ends were near the ground. It was the work of only a minute or two to bring the miserable prisoner under the limb and to adjust the rope in the form of a hangman's knot around his neck.
When this was done Sanders said: "Wiles, we don't want to send you out of this world without giving you a chance for preparation; so if you want to pray or to send any message to your dad or mam, we'll wait for you."
Wiles was a man not without physical courage, and in this trying hour his grit did not fail him. He cast one hurried glance around, as though looking for some allies to aid him, but none were in sight. He gazed into the faces of those standing near him to see if there were any relenting; but the stern and determined looks of most of these men showed him it was useless to expect mercy from them. All hope seemed gone. Wiles, apparently wishing more to show a brave front to man than a humble and contrite spirit to God, simply said: "I've nuthin' to say to de likes uv you'uns; only I defy ye to do yer wu'st."
"Haul away!" cried Sanders, and a dozen men seizing the rope, began pulling it, tightening the noose around Wiles' neck; but before they had lifted the body free from the ground a loud beating of horses' hoofs was heard in the direction of Bridgewater. Instinctively the men ceased from their work to look down the road. Perhaps there was a tremor of fear and condemnation in their hearts. We believe that every man who purposes in his heart to help lynch one of his fellow men, if he allows reason and conscience half a chance to be heard, will not engage in the attempt.
Presently two men came in sight, riding as though their lives depended upon their haste. They were Jasper Very and John Larkin, who had heard of the proposed lynching. The riders spurred their horses across the bridge and flung themselves from their saddles, but not before Jasper Very had shouted in his loudest voice: "Men, I call upon you in the name of God to stop this wicked act." Then, rushing up to the condemned man, who was already gasping for breath, he pulled the rope from over the limb sufficiently to loosen the knot around Wiles' neck. The lynchers were too much surprised to resist.
While John Larkin held the weakened prisoner Jasper Very removed the rope from his neck, and the two preachers helped Wiles to a seat on the bridge. Here Very stood over him as though he were his guardian angel. His eyes blazed with a fire never seen in them before. His gigantic form seemed to swell to larger proportions. He looked the incarnation of power tempered with pity. Very spoke with his heart hot within him: "Men of Kentucky, I am ashamed of your actions this day. What you purpose doing is a stain upon our State. It is a crime the memory of which, if committed, you will not be able to hide from your minds till life's last hour. Do you not know that two sins can never make an act right? How do you dare to hurry this man into the presence of his Maker unprepared? How can you meet such a sin at the judgment day? There are the courts. Let Sam Wiles be tried in them. You are well aware that our laws are very severe against horse-stealing, and when brought to the bar of justice the prisoner will suffer the full penalty of his deeds. But there is a higher law than those in our criminal courts. It is God's law, given to the children of men amid the thunders of Mount Sinai when the whole mountain was black with a thick cloud of smoke, which rolled away as from a great furnace into the sky. God descended in fire upon the mount. Thunders roared, lightnings flashed, and the peaks trembled to their foundations. The trumpets sounded louder and louder and the awful voice of almighty God 'shook the earth.' What were the commandments there given? One of them was: 'Thou shalt not kill.' Do not think that lynch law is not murder. It is murder of a very deplorable kind; for the perpetrators of the deed are not one but many, so that many are guilty of shedding their brother's blood. In the name of Him whose I am and whom I serve as a humble ambassador, I call upon you to desist from this proposed crime, conceived in passion and carried forward under great excitement. Listen to the voice of reason, and your consciences will approve your course."
What the majesty of the law could not do under the words of the honored Judge, the power of the gospel accomplished through the agency of the backwoods preacher.
Hiram Sanders was the first to yield. "Neighbors," he said, "what the preacher spoke is true. I think we will sleep sounder tonight if we spare the prisoner, though he is a sneaking, onery critter. But let the law take its course. We must see that he is securely guarded and lodged in jail without a mishap."