And then they talked together, and the victim, for the first time in his life, called on God to have mercy upon him, the sinner.
And Zoonah was there—Zoonah, who, in early youth, had been fostered and kindly trained by white men, and taught who God was, and how all the beautiful and pleasant gifts of earth came from God—and Zoonah mocked him, and cried aloud—
“Is your God black or white?”
Then all was still again, and it was decided how he should die; and they took their assegais, and drew a red circle round his throat, and sat down to see the beginning of their work, sharpening their weapons, and bidding the young boys take good aim at the quivering and bleeding form with their knob-kierries. Some of the women came, and looked shyly at him at first, and so went away, and danced and returned; and it was at this period of the tragic drama that a girl caught sight of a carbine in the bush above, and shrieked her warning—
“The soldiers!—the soldiers!—and the Fingo dogs!”
They fled, but left their victim no chance of life from his fellow-men.
Jasper Lyle was quite dead when they unbound him from the oak, down the bark of which the blood streamed from his mangled limbs.
It was riven by lightning afterwards, and, till Mr Trail had it cut down, stood all white and ghastly, an unsightly memento of the convict’s awful death.
The hour fixed for Gray’s execution passed by—the world was already dead to him; but had Mr Trail, the kind, the thoughtful, the unselfish, forgotten him?
How clear are the heavens! how serene and still! how balmy the autumnal breeze of Kafirland.