Amidst such words the days passed. Tuesday morning the sheriff's son came and embraced him, "bade him not be afraid," and "could speak no more for weeping." When the sheriff came himself for him, he took his brother's arm and walked calmly to the place of execution, "at the town's end, where the butts stood."
His father was at the roadside as he passed. "God be with thee, son William!" the old man said. "God be with thee, good father," the son answered, "and be of good comfort!"
When he was come to the stake, he took one of the faggots, knelt upon it, and prayed for a few moments. The sheriff read the pardon with the conditions. "I shall not recant," he said, and walked to the post, to which he was chained.
"Pray for me, good people, while you see me alive," he said to the crowd.
"Pray for thee!" said the magistrate who had committed him, "I will no more pray for thee than I will pray for a dog."
"Son of God," Hunter exclaimed, "shine on me!" The sun broke out from behind a cloud and blazed in glory on his face.
The faggots were set on fire.
"Look," shrieked a priest, "how thou burnest here, so shalt thou burn in hell!"
The martyr had a Prayer-book in his hands, which he cast through the flames to his brother.
"William," said the brother, "think on the holy passion of Christ, and be not afraid of death."