“Captain Haller!” called the voice of the major; “here a moment, if you please. These are some of the men who were going to hang you, are they not?”
Twing pointed to five of the Jarachos who had been captured in the skirmish.
“Yes,” replied I, “I think so; yet I could not swear to their identity.”
“By the crass, Major, I can swear to ivery mother’s son av thim! There isn’t a scoundhrel among thim but has given me rayzon to remimber him, iv a harty kick in the ribs might be called a rayzon. Oh! ye ugly spalpeens! kick me now, will yez?—will yez jist be plazed to trid upon the tail av my jacket?”
“Stand out here, my man,” said the major.
Chane stepped forward, and swore away the lives of the five Jarochos in less than as many minutes.
“Enough!” said the major, after the Irishman had given his testimony. “Lieutenant Claiborne,” continued he, addressing an officer the youngest in rank, “what sentence?”
“Hang!” replied the latter in a solemn voice.
“Lieutenant Hillis?”
“Hang!” was the reply.