Buffalo Bill and Congo ran as fast as they could.
The negro, being the swifter of the two, was soon hovering on the outskirts of the crowd of men, women, and children who were gathered around the execution tree.
Finding it impossible to get through the throng, he imitated the example of many of the Indian boys and girls, and climbed a tree, from the lowest branches of which he could overlook the crowd and get a view of all that was going on.
The condemned man was bound to a small maple by a rope of bark, which was passed several times around his waist, but his limbs and head were left free, probably for the additional amusement to be derived from seeing him attempt to dodge or ward off the various missiles aimed at him by his persecutors.
This sport had already begun, as was apparent from some arrows and knives sticking in the tree near his head, and a shout of laughter which rang through the crowd just as Congo attained his elevated seat applauded the successful feat of pinning one ear of the captive to the tree by a shaft from a bow.
Pale as a ghost and frantic with terror, poor Hare now put up his hands to ward off the flying weapons, and now tried to extricate the arrow from his ear, groaning meanwhile and begging for mercy in language, of course, which would have been unintelligible to most of his tormentors if heard, but which was drowned by their own shouts and cries.
He had been left clad in the garments in which he had run his race, with the exception of his hat, which was off, and Congo could plainly see the stock of his pistol slightly protruding from his pocket, as if he had partly drawn it out, but feared to use it.
His hand wandered irresolutely toward it now and then, and as it seemed that his sufferings and dread must nerve him to a speedy use of this effectual means of escaping the malice of his enemies, Joe hastily tried to attract his attention without drawing upon himself the observation of the savage crowd.
He drew from his pocket a yellow cotton kerchief, and waved it toward him; but, failing to accomplish his object in this way, and seeing that his hand again sought his pistol and rested with firm grasp upon the protruding stock, he shouted desperately to him, heedless of the danger which he was drawing upon himself.
“Massa Hare, Massa Hare!” he cried. “Hold on, dar! Don’t shoot yourself! Dey’se comin’ to save you yit!”