“Mount ’em on the mules!”
As the other order, this is instantly executed; and the two prisoners are set astride on the hybrids, each held by a man at its head.
“Now fix the snares roun’ thar thrapples. Make the other eends fast by giein’ them a wheen o’ turn over them branches above. See as ye draw ’em tight ’ithout streetchin’.”
Walt’s orders are carried out quickly, and to the letter, for the men executing them now comprehend what is meant. They also, too well, who are seated upon the backs of the mules. It is an old trick of their own. They know they are upon a scaffold—a living scaffold—with a halter and running noose around their necks.
“Now, Nat!” says Walt, in undertone to Cully. “I guess we may spring the trap? Git your knife riddy.”
“It’s hyar.”
“You take the critter to the left. I’ll look arter that on the right.”
The latter is bestridden by Uraga. With Walt’s ideas of duty are mingled memories that prompt to revenge. He remembers his comrades slaughtered upon the sands of the Canadian, himself left buried alive. With a feeling almost jubilant—natural, considering the circumstances, scarce reprehensible—he takes his stand by the side of the mule which carries Colonel Uraga. At the same time Cully places himself beside that bestridden by Roblez.
Both have their bowie-knives in hand, the blades bare. One regarding them, a stranger to their intent, might think they meant slaughtering either the mules or the men on their backs.
They have no such thought, but a design altogether different, as declared by Wilder’s words—the last spoken by him before the act of execution.