Beside the large body of armed Vigilantes, a great number of eager spectators had assembled from all parts of the gulch to witness the execution. Six or eight thousand persons, comprehending the larger portion of the population of the Territory, gathered into a compact mass, when the prisoners, with their armed escort, marched from the committee-rooms into the street, and were ranged in front of the guard. “You are now,” said the president, addressing them, “to be conducted to the scaffold. An opportunity is given you to make your last requests and communications. You will do well to improve it by making a confession of your own crimes, and putting the Committee in possession of information as to the crimes of others.” The prisoners separately declined to make any communication. When the guard were about to fasten their arms, Jack Gallagher, with an oath, exclaimed, “I will not be hung in public,” and, drawing his pocket-knife, he applied the blade to his throat, saying, “I will cut my throat first.” The executive officer instantly cocked and presented his pistol. “If you make another move of your arm,” said he, “I will shoot you like a dog. Take the knife from him, and pinion him at once,” he continued, addressing the guard. The ruffian cursed horribly, all the while his arms were being tied. Boone Helm, with customary adjective profanity, said to Gallagher in a consolatory tone, “Don’t make a fool of yourself, Jack. There’s no use or sense in being afraid to die.” After the process of binding was completed, each prisoner was seized by the arm on either side, by a Vigilante who held in the hand not thus employed a navy revolver, ready for instant use. The large body of armed Vigilantes were then formed around the prisoners, into a hollow square, four abreast on each side, and a column in front and rear. A few men with pistols were dispersed among the crowd of spectators, to guard against any possible attempt at rescue. Thus formed, the procession marched in the direction of the scaffold with slow and solemn pace. The silence of the great throng was unbroken by a whisper, and, more eloquently than language could have done, declared the feelings of anxiety and suspense by which all were animated. Some little delay being necessary to complete the preparations at the scaffold, the procession halted in front of the Virginia Hotel, on the corner diagonally from it across Main Street. While waiting there, Clubfoot George called to his side Judge Dance, and said to him, “You have known me ever since I came to Virginia City, more intimately than any other man. We have had dealings together. Can you not in this hour of extremity say a good word for my character?” “It would be of no use, George. Your dealings with me have always been fair and honorable; but what you have done outside, I only know from the evidence, and that is very strong against you. I can do you no good.” “Well, then,” said the penitent ruffian, “will you pray with me?”