《AWM绝地求生》第2季
Shadbellystruck it, shaded it with his hand, stooped, and held it under a pine cone. Adeep silence fell upon the mob. The cone caught, a tiny flame flickered aboutit a moment or two. I seemed to catch the sound of distant hoofs—it grew moredistinct—still more and more distinct, more and more definite, but the absorbedcrowd did not appear to notice it. The match went out. The man struck another,stooped, and again the flame rose; this time it took hold and began tospread—here and there men turned away their faces. The executioner stood withthe charred match in his fingers, watching his work. The hoof-beats turned aprojecting crag, and now they came thundering down upon us. Almost the nextmoment there was a shout—
“Thesheriff!”
is alive yet. And I am sotired! A cruel time he has given me, yet I give you my honor I have neverharmed him nor any man.
Thatwastheendofthestory,anditstirredthoseboystoblood-heat,be sure of it. As for me—each word burnt a hole in me where itstruck.
Wevotedthattheoldmanshouldbunkwithus,andbemyguestand Hillyer's. I shall keep my own counsel, naturally; but as soon as heis well rested and nourished, I shall take him to Denver and rehabilitate hisfortunes.
Theboys gave the old fellow the bone-mashing good-fellowship handshake of themines, and then scattered away to spread the news.
Atdawn next morning Wells-Fargo Ferguson and Ham Sandwich called us softly out,and said, privately,
“Thatnews about the way that old stranger has been treated has spread all around,and the camps are up. They are piling in from everywhere, and are going tolynch the P'fessor. Constable Harris is in a dead funk, and has telephoned thesheriff. Come along!”
Westartedonarun.Theotherswereprivilegedtofeelastheychose, butinmyheart'sprivacyIhopedthesheriffwouldarriveintime;forIhad small desire that Sherlock Holmes should hang for my deeds, as you caneasily believe. I had heard a good deal about the sheriff, but forreassurance's sake Iasked,
“Canhe stop a mob?”
“Can he stop a mob! Can Jack Fairfax stop amob! Well, I should smile!Ex-desperado—nineteenscalpsonhisstring.Canhe!Oh,Isay!”Aswetoreupthegulch,distantcriesandshoutsandyellsrosefaintly
onthestillair,andgrewsteadilyinstrengthasweracedalong.Roar
after roar burst out,stronger and stronger, nearer and nearer; and at last,whenweclosedupuponthemultitudemassedintheopenareain
front of the tavern, the crash of sound was deafening. Some brutalroughs from Daly's gorge had Holmes in their grip, and he was the calmest manthere; a contemptuous smile played about his lips, and if any fear of death wasin his British heart, his iron personality was master of it and no sign of itwas allowed to appear.
“Cometo a vote, men!” This from one of the Daly gang, Shadbelly Higgins. “Quick! isit hang, or shoot?”
“Neither!”shouted one of his comrades. “He'll be alive again in a week; burning's theonly permanency for him.”
Thegangs from all the outlying camps burst out in a thunder-crash ofapproval,andwentstrugglingandsurgingtowardtheprisoner,and closedaroundhim,shouting,“Fire!fire'stheticket!”Theydraggedhim to the horse-post, backed him againstit, chained him to it, and piled wood and pine cones around him waist-deep.Still the strong face did not blench, and still the scornful smile played aboutthe thinlips.
“Amatch! fetch a match!”
Shadbellystruck it, shaded it with his hand, stooped, and held it under a pine cone. Adeep silence fell upon the mob. The cone caught, a tiny flame flickered aboutit a moment or two. I seemed to catch the sound of distant hoofs—it grew moredistinct—still more and more distinct, more and more definite, but the absorbedcrowd did not appear to notice it. The match went out. The man struck another,stooped, and again the flame rose; this time it took hold and began tospread—here and there men turned away their faces. The executioner stood withthe charred match in his fingers, watching his work. The hoof-beats turned aprojecting crag, and now they came thundering down upon us. Almost the nextmoment there was a shout—
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