Heedless of the remonstrances of the victim, he fastened it
securely to his neck.
Seating himself again on the log, with the other end of the rope in his
hand, he looked sternly upon the attorney, and said,
"Now, sir, I put the question again. Will you answer me?"
"Never!" said Maxwell, in desperation.
"Very well, then; if you have any prayers to say, say them now; your
time is short."
"Fool! villain! murderer! I have no prayers to say. I am not a
drivelling idiot, or fanatic; I can die like a man."
"You had better reconsider your determination."
"No, craven! woolly-headed coward! I will not flinch. Do you think to
_drive_ a gentleman into submission?"
"Be calm, Mr. Maxwell; do not waste your last moments in idle
invectives. The time were better spent in penitence and prayer."
"Pshaw! go on, if you dare, with your murderous work!"
Hatchie now unloosed the cords which secured the attorney to the tree,
and he stood bound hand and foot beneath the branch over which the line
was passed. Seizing the end of the rope, the mulatto pulled it gently at
first, but gradually increasing the pressure upon the prisoner's throat,
as if to give him a satisfactory foretaste of the hanging sensation.
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