CHAPTER XXXIX
THE VIGILANTES (_continued_)
Catlin dwelt in a detached room back of the Empire, together with one ofthe other professional gamblers. We lounged around the corner of theEmpire building. The door of the cabin was shut. Outside we hung back,hesitating and a little uncertain. None of us was by nature or traininga man of violence, and we experienced the reluctance of men about toplunge into cold water. Nobody was more than pardonably afraid, and ofcourse we had every intention of seeing the affair through. Thensuddenly in the actual face of the thing itself my excitement drainedfrom me like a tide receding. My nerves steadied, my trembling stilled.Never had I felt more cool in my life. Drawing my revolver, I pushedopen the door and entered the building.
Catlin was in the act of washing his face, and him I instantly coveredwith my weapon. His companion was still abed. On my entrance the latterhad instinctively raised on his elbow, but immediately dropped back ashe saw the figures of my companions darkening the door.
"Well, gentlemen?" demanded Catlin.
"You must come with us," I replied.
He showed no concern, but wiped carefully his face and hands.
"I will be ready in a minute," said he, throwing aside the towel, androlling down his shirt sleeves. He advanced toward a bench on which hiscoat had been flung. "I'll be with you as soon as I can put on my coat."
I glanced toward that garment and saw the muzzle of a revolver peepingout from beneath it.
"I'll hand your coat to you," said I quickly. Catlin turned deadly pale,but spoke with his usual composure.
"What am I wanted for?" he inquired.
"For being a road agent, a thief, and an accessory to robberies andmurders," I replied.
"I am innocent of all--as innocent as you are."
"There is no possibility of a mistake."
"What will you do with me?"
"Your sentence is death," I told him.
For a single instant his dark face lit up.
"You think so?" he flashed.
"Hurry!" urged one of my companions.
With one man on either side and another behind, revolvers drawn, wemarched our prisoner in double-quick time past the rear of the storesand saloons to the agreed rendezvous. There we found Danny Randall andhis committee with Morton. Within the next few moments, in rapidsuccession, appeared the others with Scar-face Charley, Crawford, andJules.
The camp was already buzzing with excitement. Men poured out from thebuildings into the streets like disturbed ants. Danny thrust hisprisoners into the interior of the cabin, and drew us up in two linesoutside. He impressed on us that we must keep the military formation,and that we were to allow no one to approach. Across the road abouttwenty yards away he himself laid a rope.
"That's the dead-line," he announced. "Now you keep the other side!"
In no time a mob of five hundred men had gathered. They surgedrestlessly to and fro. The flash of weapons was everywhere to be seen.Cries rent the air--demands, threats, oaths, and insults so numerous andso virulent that I must confess my heart failed me. At any instant Iexpected the mob to open fire; they could have swept us away with asingle volley. To my excited imagination every man of that multitudelooked a ruffian. We seemed alone against the community. I could notunderstand why they did not rush us and have it over with. Yet theyhesitated. The fact of the matter is that the desperadoes had nocohesion, no leaders; and they knew what none of us knew--namely, that agood many of that crowd must be on our side. The roar and turmoil andheat of discussion, argument, and threat rose and fell. In one of thelulls an Irish voice yelled:
"Hang them!"
The words were greeted by a sullen assenting roar. Five hundred hands,each armed, were held aloft. This unanimity produced an instant silence.
"Hang who?" a truculent voice expressed the universal uncertainty.
"Hang the road agents!" yelled back the little Irishman defiantly.
"Bully for you, Irish; that took nerve!" muttered Johnny, at my elbow.
Fifty threats were hurled at the bold speaker, and the click of gunlockspreceded a surge in his direction. Then from the mob went up a sullen,formidable muttering of warning. No individual voice could bedistinguished; but the total effect of dead resistance and determinationcould not be mistaken. Instantly, at the words so valiantly uttered, thespirit of cohesion had been born. The desperadoes checked in surprise.We had friends. How many or how strong no one could guess; but they werethere, and in case of a battle they would fight.
On our side the line was a dead, grim silence. We stood, our weaponsready, rigidly at attention. Occasionally one or the other of usmuttered a warning against those who showed symptoms of desiring tointerfere.
In the meantime, three of our number had been proceeding methodicallywith the construction of a gallows. This was made by thrusting fivesmall pine butts, about forty feet long, over a cross beam in the gableof the cabin and against the roof inside. Large drygoods boxes wereplaced beneath for the trap.
About this time Danny Randall, who had been superintending theconstruction, touched me on the shoulder.
"Fall back," he said quietly. "Now," he instructed several of us, afterwe had obeyed this command, "I want you to bring out the prisoners andhold them in plain view. In case of rescue or attempted escape, shootthem instantly. Don't hesitate."
"I should think they would be safer inside the cabin," I suggested.
"Sure," agreed Danny, "but I want them here for the moral effect."
We entered the cabin. The five prisoners were standing or sitting.Scar-face Charley was alternately blaspheming violently, upbraiding hiscompanions, cursing his own luck, and uttering frightful threats againsteverybody who had anything to do with this. Crawford was watching himcontemptuously and every once in a while advising him to "shut up!"Jules was alternately cursing and crying. Morton sat at one side quitecalm and very alert. Catlin stared at the floor.
The moment we entered Catlin ran over to us and began to plead for hislife. He, better than the rest, with the possible exception of Morton,seemed to realize the seriousness of his plight. From pleadings, whichwe received in silence, he changed to arguments concerning hisinnocence.
"It is useless," replied one of our men. "That affair is settled andcannot be changed. You are to be hanged. You cannot feel worse about itthan I do; but I could not help it if I would."
Catlin stood for a moment as though overwhelmed; then he fell on hisknees before us and began to plead rapidly.
"Not that!" he cried. "Anything but that! Do anything else you want towith me! Cut off my ears and cut out my tongue! Disable me in any way!You can certainly destroy my power for harm without taking my life!Gentlemen! I want to live for my wife--my poor absent wife! I want timeto settle my affairs! O God! I am too wicked to die. I cannot gobloodstained and unforgiven into the presence of the Eternal! Only letme go, and I will leave the country forever!"
In the meantime Scar-face Charley and Crawford were cursing at us withan earnestness and steadiness that compelled our admiration.
"Oh, shut up, Catlin!" cried Crawford at last. "You're going to hell,and you know it; but I'll be there in time to open the gate for you."
"Don't make a fool of yourself," advised Charley; "there's no use beingafraid to die."
Morton looked around at each of us in turn.
"I suppose you know you are proceeding against a regularly constitutedofficer of the law?" he reminded us. Receiving no reply, he beckoned me."Can I speak to you alone a moment?" he asked.
"I will send for our leader," I replied.
"No," said he, "I want no leader. You'll do as well."
I approached him. In an anxious tone he asked:
"Is there any way of getting out of this scrape? Think well!"
"None," said I firmly. "You must die."
With revolvers drawn we marched them outside. A wild yell greeted theirappearance. The cries were now mixed in sentiment. A hundred voicesraised in opposition were cried down by twice a
s many more. "Hang 'em!"cried some. "No, no, banish them!" cried others. "Don't hang them!" andblood-curdling threats. A single shot would have brought on a pitchedbattle. Somehow eventually the tumult died down. Then Morton, who hadbeen awaiting his chance, spoke up in a strong voice.
"I call on you in the name of the law to arrest and disperse theselaw-breakers."
"Where is Tom Cleveland?" spoke up a voice.
The appeal, which might otherwise have had its effect, was lost in thecries, accusations, and counter-accusations that arose like a babel.Morton made no further attempt. He better than any one realized, Ithink, the numerical superiority against him.
The preparations were at length completed. Danny Randall motioned us tolead forward the prisoners. Catlin struggled desperately, but the otherswalked steadily enough to take their places on the drygoods boxes.
"For God's sake, gentlemen," appealed Crawford in a loud tone of voice,"give me time to write home!"
"Ask him how much time he gave Tom Cleveland!" shouted a voice.
"If I'd only had a show," retorted Crawford, "if I'd known what you wereafter, you'd have had a gay time taking me."
There was some little delay in adjusting the cords.
"If you're going to hang me, get at it!" said Jules with an oath; "ifnot, I want you to tie a bandage on my finger; it's bleeding."
"Give me your coat, Catlin," said Crawford; "you never gave me anythingyet; now's your chance."
Danny Randall broke in on this exchange.
"You are about to be executed," said he soberly. "If you have any dyingrequests to make, this is your last opportunity. They will be carefullyheeded."
Scar-face Charley broke in with a rough laugh.
"How do I look, boys, with a halter around my neck?" he cried.
This grim effort was received in silence.
"Your time is very short," Danny reminded him.
"Well, then," said the desperado, "I want one more drink of whiskeybefore I die."
A species of uneasy consternation rippled over the crowd. Men glancedmeaningly at each other, murmuring together. Some of the countenancesexpressed loathing, but more exhibited a surprised contempt. For aconfused moment no one seemed to know quite what to do or what answer tomake to so bestial a dying request. Danny broke the silence incisively.
"I promised them their requests would be carefully heeded," he said."Give him the liquor."
Somebody passed up a flask. Charley raised it as high as he could, butwas prevented by the rope from getting it quite to his lips.
"You ----" he yelled at the man who held the rope. "Slack off that ropeand let a man take a parting drink, can't you?"
Amid a dead silence the rope was slacked away. Charley took a longdrink, then hurled the half-emptied flask far out into the crowd.
To a question Crawford shook his head.
"I hope God Almighty will strike every one of you with forked lightningand that I shall meet you all in the lowest pit of hell!" he snarled.
Morton kept a stubborn and rather dignified silence. Catlin alternatelypleaded and wept. Jules answered Danny's question:
"Sure thing! Pull off my boots for me. I don't want it to get back to myold mother that I died with my boots on!"
In silence and gravely this ridiculous request was complied with. Thecrowd, very attentive, heaved and stirred. The desperadoes, shoulderingtheir way here and there, were finding each other out, were gathering inlittle groups.
"They'll try a rescue!" whispered the man next to me.
"Men," Danny's voice rang out, clear and menacing, "do your duty!"
At the words, across the silence the click of gunlocks was heard as theVigilantes levelled their weapons at the crowd. From my position nearthe condemned men I could see the shifting components of the mob freezeto immobility before the menace of those barrels. At the same instantthe man who had been appointed executioner jerked the box from beneathCatlin's feet.
"There goes one to hell!" muttered Charley.
"I hope forked lightning will strike every strangling----" yelledCrawford. His speech was abruptly cut short as the box spun from underhis feet.
"Kick away, old fellow!" said Scar-face Charley. "Me next! I'll be inhell with you in a minute! Every man for his principles! Hurrah forcrime! Let her rip!" and without waiting for the executioner, he himselfkicked the support away.
Morton died without a sign. Catlin, at the last, suddenly calmed, andmet his fate bravely.
Before the lull resulting from the execution and the threat of thepresented weapons could break, Danny Randall spoke up.
"Gentlemen!" he called clearly. "The roster of the Vigilantes is open.Such of you as please to join the association for the preservation ofdecency, law, and order in this camp can now do so."
The guard lowered their arms and moved to one side. The crowd sweptforward. In the cabin the applicants were admitted a few at a time.Before noon we had four hundred men on our rolls. Some of the bolderroughs ventured a few threats, but were speedily overawed. The communityhad found itself, and was no longer afraid.
PART IV
THE LAW
Gold Page 41
