And Michael Laskowicz shall take your picture, Lady, with his picture box, and you may have Hanka's necklace like as if you belonged to us, and Anna's head'kerchief which is always in this year's style.... and we shall clap our hands and laugh and say, "There! There! she belongs to us, this Mees Janey Canuck, now and without end." ... They are engaging, these beechwood folk from Austria, and their loving kindness is like honey to my mouth.
If it were more genteel, I would like to speak them fair, and to write books about them, but I have set my face against authorship. I will not go into the writing business, for I do greatly prefer wealth and honour, and to have my picture taken on a verandah with my arm around a pillar as an exampler of a three years of successful life in Alberta the Sunny.
CHAPTER XX
THE SHADOW OF THE SCAFFOLD
It was my harassing duty to act as death-watch to the man who wrote the appended diary. On the day before his execution he made no entry, although he opened the book several times and once asked me to sharpen his pencil. I was not present at his execution, but was informed that he bore himself with dignity and calmness. The crime which he expiated with his life was the murder of his wife who had left him to live with another man. He had still one year to complete before obtaining his degree as a medical practitioner. At his trial, he refused to take refuge behind his wife's misdemeanour, nor would he permit his counsel to urge this plea on his behalf.
I have held this unique diary for over a year, not feeling at liberty to give it to the public while in 'the service of the Mounted Police.—E. F. M.
There are yet six days till I die.
The words the judge said were "hanged by the neck till dead." Ever since, they have haunted me like a song that fastens itself on one and will not be forgotten. The words drag out their ghastly length to the sound of the Fort bell as it rings the hours. They drawl to the tread of the sentinel who walks back and forth outside my cell—hanged—by—the—neck—till—dead.
Does it take a man long to hang? I inquired of my guard, and although we are not supposed to talk, he laughed nervously and said he had once read of a doctor who cut down to a murderer's heart three minutes after the drop fell. There was still enough force in the heart to ring an electric bell.