ed in at Halloway's place.

"Here the prisoner made his last struggle. The idea of being taken to
Halloway's place appeared to terrify him to desperation. He might as
well have struggled against the powers of the Infinite. He said he would
confess everything if they would not take him there. They said they did
not want his confession. He gave up, and from this time was quiet; and
he soon began to croon a sort of hymn.

"The procession stopped at the big sycamore under which I had last
parted from Halloway.

"I asked leave to speak again; but they said no. They asked the prisoner
if he wanted to say anything. He said he wanted something to eat. The
leader said he should have it; that it should never be said that any
man--even he--had asked in vain for food in that county.

"Out of a haversack food was produced in plenty, and while the crowd
waited, amidst profound silence the prisoner squatted down and ate up
the entire plateful.

"Then the leader said he had just five minutes more to live and he had
better pray.

"He began a sort of wild incoherent ramble; confessed that he had
murdered Halloway and his wife, but laid the chief blame on his father,
and begged them to tell his friends to meet him in heaven.

"I asked leave to go, and it was given me on condition that I would not
return for twenty minutes. This I agreed to.

"I went to my home and aroused someone, and we returned. It was not much
more than a half-hour since I had left, but the place was deserted. It
was all as silent as the grave. There was no living creature there.
Only under the great sycamore, from one of its long, pale branches that
stretched across the road, hung that dead thing with the toes turned a
little in, just out of our reach, turning and swaying a little in the
night wind.

"We had to climb to the limb to cut the body down.

"The outside newspapers made a good deal of the affair. I was charged
with indifference, with cowardice, with venality. Some journals even
declared that I had instigated the lynching and participated in it, and
said that I ought to be hanged.

"I did not mind this much. It buoyed me up, and I went on with my work
without stopping for a rest, as I had intended to do.

"I kept my word and ransacked the county for evidence against the
lynchers. Many knew nothing about the matter; others pleaded their
privilege and refused to testify on the ground of self-crimination.

"The election came on again, and almost