“Go to” was their way of saying “I
should smile!” or “I like that!”
Queer talkers, those people.
Well, there was a sort of bastard justice in his view
of the case, and so I dropped the matter. When
you can’t cure a disaster by argument, what
is the use to argue? It isn’t my way.
So I only said:
“You’re not going to be hanged.
None of us are.”
Both men laughed, and the slave said:
“Ye have not ranked as a fool—before.
You might better keep your reputation, seeing the
strain would not be for long.”
“It will stand it, I reckon. Before to-morrow
we shall be out of prison, and free to go where we
will, besides.”
The witty officer lifted at his left ear with his
thumb, made a rasping noise in his throat, and said:
“Out of prison—yes—ye
say true. And free likewise to go where ye will,
so ye wander not out of his grace the Devil’s
sultry realm.”
I kept my temper, and said, indifferently:
“Now I suppose you really think we are going
to hang within a day or two.”
“I thought it not many minutes ago, for so the
thing was decided and proclaimed.”
“Ah, then you’ve changed your mind, is
that it?”
“Even that. I only thought, then;
I know, now.”
I felt sarcastical, so I said:
“Oh, sapient servant of the law, condescend
to tell us, then, what you know.”
“That ye will all be hanged to-day, at
mid-afternoon! Oho! that shot hit home!
Lean upon me.”
The fact is I did need to lean upon somebody.
My knights couldn’t arrive in time. They
would be as much as three hours too late. Nothing
in the world could save the King of England; nor me,
which was more important. More important, not
merely to me, but to the nation—the only
nation on earth standing ready to blossom into civilization.
I was sick. I said no more, there wasn’t
anything to say. I knew what the man meant; that
if the missing slave was found, the postponement would
be revoked, the execution take place to-day.
Well, the missing slave was found.
SIR LAUNCELOT AND KNIGHTS TO THE RESCUE
Nearing four in the afternoon. The scene was
just outside the walls of London. A cool, comfortable,
superb day, with a brilliant sun; the kind of day
to make one want to live, not die. The multitude
was prodigious and far-reaching; and yet we fifteen
poor devils hadn’t a friend in it. There
was something painful in that thought, look at it
how you might. There we sat, on our tall scaffold,
the butt of the hate and mockery of all those enemies.
We were being made a holiday spectacle. They
had built a sort of grand stand for the nobility and
gentry, and these were there in full force, with their
ladies. We recognized a good many of them.
