“We did not.”
“Ye did; hanged him by the neck till he war dead, as the judges say. I kim hyar by chance, an’ cut him down; but not till ’twar too late.”
“Is that true, Rook? Are you speaking the truth? Did you find him dead?”
“Dead as a buck arter gittin’ a bullet from Jerry Rook’s rifle. If ye don’t b’lieve it, maybe you’d step down to my shanty, and see him streeched out.”
“No, no. But we didn’t do it; we didn’t intend it, by Heaven!”
“No swarin’, young fellars. I don’t care what your intentions war; ye’ve done the deed. I seed how it war, and all abeout it; ye hung him up for sport—pretty sport that war—an’ ye rud off, forgitting all abeout him. Yur sport hev been his death.”
“My God! we are sorry to hear it. We had no thought of such a thing. A bear came along, and set the hounds up.”
“Oh, a bar, war it? I thort so. An’ ye tuk arter the bar, and let the poor young fellar swing?”
“It is true; we can’t deny it. We had no intention of what has happened; we thought only of the bear.”
“Wal, now, ye’ll have to think o’ something else. What d’ye intend doin’?”