Less than a quarter of a mile distant, in rear of Lorrain’s, on a beautiful curve of the Pas-sam-a-ri, stood several majestic cottonwoods, by far the finest trees in all that region. Two, which stood side by side, were selected as the scaffolds. It was a dim starlit night, and a lantern was necessary to complete the preparations for the execution. The cold blast from the immediate mountains howled fearfully as the little procession tramped through the snow, with their prisoners in charge, to the fatal spot. The night was not darker than the gloom which had settled upon the minds and hearts of these condemned wretches. “Red,” however, was perfectly collected. Not a sigh escaped him, nor a tear dimmed his eyes. Brown was all excitement. He begged piteously for mercy, and prayed for his Indian wife and family. They were in Minnesota. “Red,” more affected by the terror and moans of his comrade than his own hapless condition, said to him in a sad but firm tone, “Brown, if you had thought of this three years ago, you wouldn’t be here now, or give the boys this trouble.” A few branches were clipped from a lower limb of each of the trees, and the ropes suspended. Two stools brought from the ranche, by being placed one upon the other, served the purpose of a drop. A Vigilante, while adjusting the noose to the neck of Brown, stumbled, and both he and Brown fell together into the snow. Recovering himself, he said, by way of apology, “We must do better than that, Brown.” It was a chance remark, proceeding from a motive which it failed to express; better interpreted by those who heard it, than I fear it will be by my readers. When all was ready, Brown, with the petition upon his lips, “God Almighty save my soul,” was launched from the platform, and died without a struggle. “Red” witnessed the scene unmoved. When his turn came, and he stood upon the frail trestle, he looked calmly around upon his executioners. “I knew,” said he, “that I should be followed and hanged, when I met the party in Deer Lodge Valley; but I wish you would chain me, and not hang me until after I have seen those punished who are guiltier than I.” Just before he fell, he shook hands with all, and then turning to the Vigilante who had escorted him to Lorrain’s, he said, “Let me beg of you to follow and punish the rest of this infernal gang.” “‘Red,’” replied the man, “we will do it, if there’s any such thing in the book.” “Good-bye, boys,” said “Red,” “you’re on a good undertaking. God bless you.” The stools fell, and the body of the intrepid freebooter swung lifeless in the midnight blast. CHAPTER XXXII LLOYD MAGRUDER “In the name of all that is wonderful, Hill, what has kept you up till this late hour?” was the eager inquiry of Mrs. Maggie Beachy of her husband, when that gentleman entered his house at two o’clock in the morning.