Brandy was served. Creagh named the toast and we drank it standing.
“King James!”
The governor of the prison bustled in just as the broken glasses shivered behind us.
“Now gentlemen, if you are quite ready.”
Three sledges waited for us in the yard to draw us to the gallows tree. There was no cowardly feeling, but perhaps a little dilatoriness in getting into the first sledge. Five minutes might bring a reprieve for any of us, and to be in the first sledge might mean the difference between life and death.
“Come, gentlemen! If you please! Let us have no more halting,” said the governor, irritably.
Creagh laughed hardily and vaulted into the sledge. “Egad, you’re right! We’ll try a little haltering for a change.”
Morgan followed him, and I took the third place.
A rider dismounted at the prison gate.
“Is there any news for me?” asked one poor fellow eagerly.