scruples on the score of colour. What
has been told them about their two prisoners--the atrocities these have
committed--puts all this aside. The tale has made a profound impression
upon their minds; and, beyond any motive of mere revenge, they are
stirred by a sense of just retribution. Every man of them feels as if
it were his sacred duty to deal out justice, and administer the
punishment of death to criminals so surely deserving it.

CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT.

A LIVING SCAFFOLD.

Captain Haynes, seeing there will be no difficulty in obtaining
executioners, deems everything settled, and is about ordering the
prisoners to be brought up. Being a man of humane feelings, with
susceptibilities that make him somewhat averse to performing the part of
sheriff, it occurs to him that he can avoid the disagreeable duty by
appointing a deputy.

For this he selects Walt Wilder, who in turn chooses Nat Cully to assist
him. The two assume superintendence of the ceremony, and the Ranger
Captain retires from the ground.

After communing for some seconds between themselves, and in _sotto
voce_, as if arranging the mode of execution, Walt faces round to the
assembled Texans, saying--

"Wal, boys, thar 'pears to be no stint o' hangmen among ye. This chile
niver seed so many o' the Jack Ketch kind since he fust set foot on the
soil o' Texas. Maybe it's the smell o' these Mexikins makes ye so
savagerous."

Walt's quaint speech elicits a general laugh, but suppressed. The scene
is too solemn for an ebullition of boisterous mirth. The ex-Ranger
continues--

"I see you'll want to have a pull at these ropes. But I reckon we'll
have to disapp'int ye. The things we're agoin' to swing up don't
desarve hoistin' to etarnity by free-born citizens o' the Lone Star
State. 'Twould be a burnin' shame for any Texan to do the hangin' o'
sech skunks as they."

"What do you mean, Walt?" one asks. "Somebody must hoist them up!"

"'Taint at all necessary. They kin be strung 'ithout e'er a hand
techin' trail-rope."

"How?" inquire several voices.

"Wal, thar's a way Nat Cully an' me hev been speaking o'. I've heern o'
them Mexikins practisin' themselves on thar Injun prisoners for sport.
We'll gie' 'em a dose o' their own medicine. Some o' you fellows go an'
fetch a kupple o' pack mules. Ye may take the saddles off--they won't
be needed."

Half-a-dozen of the Rangers rush out, and return leading two mules,
having hastily s