“Thank God for that!” “A righteous verdict!” and other like expressions broke from the crowd, while on the outer edge of it, amidst mingled curses, execrations, and howls of indignation, and the quick click of guns and revolvers, one of the ruffians exclaimed, “The murderous, strangling villains dare not hang him, at any rate.” Just at this moment a motion was made to the miner “that the report be received, and the jury discharged,” which, with some little opposition from the prisoner’s lawyers, was carried. Some of the crowd now became clamorous for an adjournment; but failing in this, the motion was then made “that the assembly adopt as their verdict the report of the committee.” The prisoner’s counsel sprung to their feet to oppose the motion, but it was carried by such a large majority, that the assemblage seemed at once to gather fresh life and encouragement for the discharge of the solemn duty which it imposed. There was a momentary lull in the proceedings, when the people found that they had reached the point when the execution of the criminal was all that remained to be done. They realized that the crisis of the trial had arrived. On the faces of all could be read their unexpressed anxiety concerning the result. What man among them possessed the courage and commanding power equal to the exigencies of the occasion! At this critical moment, the necessity for prompt action, which had so disarranged and defeated the consummation of the trial of Stinson and Lyons, was met by Colonel Sanders, one of the counsel for the prosecution, who now moved, “that George Ives be forthwith hanged by the neck, until he be dead.” This motion so paralyzed the ruffians, that, before they could recover from their astonishment at its being offered, it was carried with even greater unanimity than either of the previous motions, the people having increased in courage as the work progressed. Some of the friends of Ives now came up, with tears in their eyes, to bid him farewell. One or two of them gave way to immoderate grief. Meantime, Ives himself, beginning to realize the near approach of death, begged piteously for a delay until morning, making all those pathetic appeals which on such occasions are hard to resist. “I want to write to my mother and sister,” said he; but when it was remembered that he had written, and caused to be sent to his mother soon after he came to the country, an account of his own murder by Indians, in order to deceive her, no one thought the reason for delay a good one. “Ask him,” said one of the crowd, as he held the hand of Colonel Sanders, and was in the midst of a most touching appeal for delay, “ask him how long a time he gave the Dutchman.” He, however, made a will, giving everything to his counsel and companions in iniquity, to the entire exclusion of his mother and sisters. Several letters were written under his dictation by one of his counsel.