A man now flung the noose of the rope over his head. Others roughly ordered the minister out of the way, and the good man affectionately embracing Horton and bidding him good-bye, retreated to the church steps, and seating himself, with face upturned and eyes flowing tears, sang in a thin treble voice:
"Jesus, Saviour of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly."
At the moment the rope was tightening on the victim's neck, there occurred a commotion on the outer edge of the crowd, and breathless and hatless Ben forced his way through and up to the unfortunate companion of his wanderings.
"Hold!" he cried, "hold! This man is innocent. I was with him when he traded his watch for that horse. You are murdering an innocent man!"
"Who're you?" roughly enquired a number.
"He's the man who was with me when I got the horse; the man I told you of. He will prove that I did not steal it," calmly replied Horton.
"That's a likely story!" exclaimed a voice.
"Thief a helpin' thief!" shouted another.
"He's another hoss thief!"