As his captors led him from the stockade like a haltered ox, his face wore no downcast look, and his step was firm and elastic. Even in his helpless condition, and in face of the death to which he was being hurried, he was recklessly cheerful, and made many remarks touching his situation, that produced laughter among the settlers, and even made a curious impression upon some of their hearts. The execution was to take place in the woods across the river, and two of the settlers had been sent on some time in advance to select a tree for the purpose, and dig a grave. When the party crossed the river with the prisoner, they were met by the two men and conducted to the place of execution, which was beneath the branching boughs of a great oak. A large limb growing out at right-angles with the body of the tree had been trimmed of its shrubbery, and near the foot of the tree a grave was dug. As the prisoner gazed upon these preparations for his execution, he smiled grimly, defiantly. “Why go to this trouble, gentlemen?” he asked, pointing toward the grave. “Why not let my body hang for the hungry wolf, the carrion-crow and the vulture to feed upon? Know you not that the spirit will not complain of your treatment of the body? The wolf and the vulture will not devour my bones, and so long as the grim skeleton exists, so long will the spirit remain about it.” “You are disposed to jest, Dick Sherwood,” said Lionel Clontarf, a stern, stony-hearted man; “you should think of the great Hereafter, and then perhaps your heart will move the spirit differently.” “Yes,” added Geoffry Bryant, “think of the lives you have destroyed, and the homes you have made sad and desolate, and then, if you have a conscience, you will feel a pang of remorse. Your heart will shrink from the terrible punishment awaiting you.” “I am really conscious of all this, gentlemen,” replied Sherwood, tauntingly, “but my greatest regrets are that I did not succeed in escaping with Miss Bryant, for then it would have been heaven instead of--” “Hang the villain! hang the wretch!” burst from the lips of some of the crowd. “Dick Sherwood,” said old Captain Storms, the leader of the party, “if you have any thing of reason to say, say it at once; if not--” “Certainly,” interrupted Sherwood; “I was going to suggest that some improvements be made upon that grave for _my_ ease and comfort; but I will not occupy it long, so go your length, gentlemen. Should I ever address you again it will be under different--quite different auspices.” The settlers grew indignant at these taunting, defiant remarks, and at once proceeded to the execution. Four men drew the cleared limb as low as possible and held it down. To this Captain Storms tied the rope which already encircled the renegade’s neck.