near for Belton to go to Waco. He took a
tender leave of his loved ones. It was so tender that Antoinette was
troubled, and pressed him hard for an answer as to when he was to
return or send for them. He begged her to be assured of his love and
know that he would not stay away one second longer than was necessary.
Thus assured, she let him go, after kissing him more than a hundred
times.

Belton turned his back on this home of happiness and love, to walk
into the embrace of death. He arrived in Waco in due time, and the
morning of his execution came.

In one part of the campus there was a high knoll surrounded on all
sides by trees. This knoll had been selected as the spot for the
execution.

In the early morn while the grass yet glittered with pearls of water,
and as the birds began to chirp, Belton was led forth to die. Little
did those birds know that they were chirping the funeral march of the
world's noblest hero. Little did they dream that they were chanting
his requiem.

The sun had not yet risen but had reddened the east with his signal
of approach. Belton was stationed upon the knoll, his face toward the
coming dawn. With his hands folded calmly across his bosom, he stood
gazing over the heads of the executioners, at the rosy east.

His executioners, five in number, stood facing him, twenty paces away.
They were commanded by Bernard, the President of the Imperium. Bernard
gazed on Belton with eyes of love and admiration. He loved his friend
but he loved his people more. He could not sacrifice his race for his
dearest friend. Viola had taught him that lesson. Bernard's eyes swam
with tears as he said to Belton in a hoarse whisper: "Belton Piedmont,
your last hour has come. Have you anything to say?"

"Tell posterity," said Belton, in firm ringing tones that startled the
birds into silence, "that I loved the race to which I belonged and the
flag that floated over me; and, being unable to see these objects of
my love engage in mortal combat, I went to my God, and now look down
upon both from my home in the skies to bless them with my spirit."

Bernard gave the word of command to fire, and Belton fell forward,
a corpse. On the knoll where he fell he was buried, shrouded in an
American flag.

CHAPTER XX.

PERSONAL.--(Berl Trout)

I was a member of the Imperium that ordered Belton to be slain. It
fell to my lot to be one of the five who fired the fatal shots and I
saw him fall. Oh! that I could