“I should think they would be safer inside the cabin,” I suggested.
363“Sure,” agreed Danny, “but I want them here for the moral effect.”
We entered the cabin. The five prisoners were standing or sitting. Scar-face Charley was alternately blaspheming violently, upbraiding his companions, cursing his own luck, and uttering frightful threats against everybody who had anything to do with this. Crawford was watching him contemptuously and every once in a while advising him to “shut up!” Jules was alternately cursing and crying. Morton sat at one side quite calm and very alert. Catlin stared at the floor.
The moment we entered Catlin ran over to us and began to plead for his life. He, better than the rest, with the possible exception of Morton, seemed to realize the seriousness of his plight. From pleadings, which we received in silence, he changed to arguments concerning his innocence.
“It is useless,” replied one of our men. “That affair is settled and cannot be changed. You are to be hanged. You cannot feel worse about it than I do; but I could not help it if I would.”
Catlin stood for a moment as though overwhelmed; then he fell on his knees before us and began to plead rapidly.
“Not that!” he cried. “Anything but that! Do anything else you want to with me! Cut off my ears and cut out my tongue! Disable me in any way! You can certainly destroy my power for harm without taking my life! Gentlemen! I want to live for my wife–my poor absent wife! I want time to settle my affairs! O God! I am too wicked to die. I cannot go blood-stained and 364 unforgiven into the presence of the Eternal! Only let me go, and I will leave the country forever!”
In the meantime Scar-face Charley and Crawford were cursing at us with an earnestness and steadiness that compelled our admiration.
“Oh, shut up, Catlin!” cried Crawford at last. “You’re going to hell, and you know it; but I’ll be there in time to open the gate for you.”
“Don’t make a fool of yourself,” advised Charley; “there’s no use being afraid to die.”