that M'Leod became aware that his
comrade was to be of the number of his executioners. He saw him
amongst the firing-party. Unknowing the fact, and never dreaming of
the possibility of such an atrocity as that which M'Intyre's position
involved, M'Leod calmly asked a serjeant who stood near him--"What
does James do there?" The serjeant evaded a reply, or rather affected
not to hear him. At this moment the chaplain of the regiment came up
to the unfortunate man, to administer the comfort and consolation of
religious aid to the doomed soldier. But, ere he could enter on his
sacred duties, M'Leod, on whose mind some approximation to the horrid
truth as regarded the part assigned his comrade had now flashed, put
the same question to the chaplain as he had done to the serjeant.

"Mr Fraser," he said, "I guess the truth; but I would fain be assured
of it. Why is my comrade, James M'Intyre, amongst the firing-party?"

The chaplain, as the serjeant had done, endeavoured to evade a reply,
by directing the unhappy man to matters of spiritual concernment; but
he would not be evaded, and again repeated the question. Thus pressed,
the chaplain could no longer avoid the explanation he sought. He told
him M'Intyre was one of the firing-party by order of the commanding
officer.

"I guessed as much," said M'Leod, calmly. "It is a piece of dreadful
cruelty; but may God forgive him, as I freely do!"

He then, without making any further remark, entered solemnly and
composedly into the devotional exercises prescribed by his spiritual
comforter. These concluded, and everything being ready for the last
fatal act of the tragedy, the firing-party were ordered to advance
nearer, when M'Intyre, stepping out from his place amongst them,
advanced towards the colonel, and again implored him to release him
from the dreadful duty imposed on him. The colonel's reply was as
determined and peremptory as before.

"Do your duty, sir!" he said, waving his hand impatiently as a signal
to M'Intyre to return to his place, and stepping a pace or two away
from him as he spoke. "Do your duty, sir, or I'll compel you; I'll
have you in the same situation with your friend."

M'Intyre obeyed the ruthless order without saying another word. He
returned to his place. The prisoner's eyes were now bandaged. The
firing-party had levelled their muskets, and were waiting the fatal
sign. It was made. Colonel Maberly himself made it. The volley was
discharged, and M'Leo