“They sha’n’t hang you, Charley! They sha’n’t! They sha’n’t!” she sung out––and she jerked away from him and got in front of Cherry and pitched down on the deepo platform on her knees. “Don’t hang him, sir!” she groaned out. “Spare him to me, and to our dear little girls who love him with all their little hearts! Oh, sir, say that he shall be saved!”
“Get up, ma’am, please,” Cherry said, looking as worried as he could look. “That’s no sort of a way for a lady to do! Please get up right away.”
“Never! Never!” she said. “Never till you promise me that the life of my dear husband shall be spared!”––and she grabbed Cherry round the knees and groaned dreadful. He really was the most awkward-looking man, with her holding onto his legs that way, you ever seen!
“‘DON’T HANG HIM, SIR!’ SHE GROANED OUT”
“Oh, Lord, ma’am, do get up!” he said. “Having you like that for another minute’ll make me sick. I’m not used to such goings-on”––and Cherry did what he could to work loose his legs.
But she hung on so tight he couldn’t shake her, and kept saying, “Save him! Save him!” and uttering groans.
Cherry wriggled his legs as much as he could and looked around at the boys. They all was badly broke up, and anybody could see they was weakening. “Shall we let up on Santa Fé this time?” he asked. “I guess it’s true he didn’t more’n half mean, being drunk the way he was, to shoot Bill––and it makes things different, anyway, knowing he’s got kids and a wife. Bill himself would be the first to allow that. Bill was as kind-hearted a man as ever lived. Do please, ma’am, let go.”