“You alone are accountable for the present captivity and suffering of Miss Gansevoort. Produce her here within two hours or those forest trees shall afford a gallows for you, higher than Haman ever hung. Select any three of your men whom you choose to send upon this errand, and they shall immediately be set at liberty.”
Wiley smiled as he replied: “Count De Zeng forgets that he is talking to a gentleman, and an officer of the British army. Such threats may frighten children.”
“Decline the proposition,” said De Zeng sternly, “and the hours shall be shortened into minutes.”
“I repeat,” answered Wiley, again smiling contemptuously, “that I am not thus to be intimidated.”
De Zeng did not reply, but hastily detailing a dozen men, made known to them his wishes. The preparations went rapidly forward, but still the prisoner laughed. Not for effect, not with affectation, but with real incredulity and scorn, he laughed. He laughed while his hands were being tied. He laughed while the rope was fastened around his neck. A sapling had been bent slightly toward the ground, and secured in that position by a rope, readily formed of twisted bark, and tied around the summit and base of the tree, while another rope of the same material, suspended from the top, received the prisoner’s neck. The severance of the first-named cord would allow the tree to return to its upright position, thus simply effecting the design.
When all things were ready, Count De Zeng took out his watch, and solemnly informed the prisoner that he had only five minutes of life remaining, if he continued to refuse the proposed terms.
“You shall yet answer for this foolery,” was the only reply. “The law will redress me.”
“Outlaw! brigand! kidnapper!” returned the count; “do you talk to me of law?”
Wiley knew that his life was forfeited, and that if carried a prisoner to the American camp, his only chance of escape from death would consist in his being exchanged for Miss Gansevoort, which he entertained sanguine hopes of effecting. He was also infatuated to the last with entire incredulity in regard to De Zeng’s threats, having himself before witnessed, and even been a party to similar transactions, where nothing more was intended than to extort some valuable information. He therefore continued unrelenting.
An awful silence for a few minutes prevailed, during which De Zeng’s eyes were riveted upon his watch, and an attendant with drawn sword stood ready to sever the cord at the base of the tree. The prisoner again smiled, as he remarked, “The time must be past, Count De Zeng: I suppose the play is now over.”