Lawrence was now placed on the horse that had been ridden by the corporal, his hands tied behind him and his feet securely bound beneath the horse on which he rode. One of the guerrillas tied the halter of the horse to the saddle of the one he rode, and they started for the secret rendezvous of the gang. It was long after nightfall before they reached it.
Captain Lamar and most of the gang were found to be away, so supperless and bound, Lawrence was placed under a tree to await the morning.
The cords with which he was bound cut into his flesh and he was parched with thirst. He asked for water, but a curse was the only answer.
There throughout the rest of the night Lawrence lay, the stars looking pityingly down upon him. He could not sleep, his sufferings were too great, and there was the uncertainty of the morrow. What would the end be?
All his life passed before his mental vision in a panoramic vision. He lived it all over again.
Morning came, but Captain Lamar and the rest of the gang had not yet returned. He was given some breakfast, but taunted with the fact that it would be his last meal on earth. Better than the food was the water which cooled his parched mouth and tongue. No nectar that ever flowed tasted half so sweet.
About nine o'clock Captain Lamar came. He was in a towering rage, for his expedition had failed and he had lost two men.
When told two of his men had killed a Yankee and captured a Yankee captain, he asked what had been done with the captain.
"He is heah," said one of the men. "We 'uns have been waitin' to see what yo' un wanted to do with him."
"Hang him or shoot him, I don't care which," he growled as he turned away. "I'm tired and hungry and want some breakfast."
The Captain's decision was told, but the gang decided to wait until the men who came in with the Captain had had breakfast, so all could enjoy the sport. To the savage men the hanging or shooting of a Yankee was an enjoyable event.
When breakfast was over there was quite a discussion as to whether Lawrence should be hung or shot. Those in favor of hanging carried the day, so he was led under the projecting limb of a tree and a rope placed around his neck.
Lawrence felt all hope was gone. He was standing face to face with death. For a moment he felt faint and a deadly fear seized him. Few there be who in health and strength can face Death without a fear. As they look him in his face and his shadowy wings cover them, nature recoils and would flee from him.
But it was only a moment that Lawrence feared. He gulped back the lump in his throat; his trembling nerves became as steel. He was a man--a soldier again. He had faced death on the battlefield without a quiver and he would do so now, though this was different, it was coming in such a horrible form; but he would face it. He looked into the scowling faces around him without a sign of fear.
"What do yo' un have to say before we 'uns string you up?" demanded one of the men.
"Nothing," answered Lawrence, "but I would be thankful if you would inform Judge Lindsly of my fate. He at least will give my body a decent burial."
At this the guerrillas burst into a boisterous laugh. "That's a good one," they cried. "He reckons we 'uns bury the Yanks we 'uns hang. Young feller, we 'uns will pitch your carcass in the brush and leave it for the buzzards to pick--that is, if a Missouri buzzard will pick a dead Yank."
At this sally there was another burst of laughter.
Just then there came a diversion. One of the men, Cal Jones, who had been one of the party with Lamar, had missed a Federal soldier at short range, and his companions were guying him unmercifully.
"Why," drawled one called Hooper, "Cal couldn't hit a barn door at fifty paces."
Cal was hopping mad. "I'll bet yo 'un a hoss I ken put a ball through that Yank's heart at fifty paces," he roared.
"Done," exclaimed Hooper. "Heah, boys, stop that picnic for a few moments. Cal has bet me a hoss he can plug that Yank through the heart at fifty paces the first shot."
Some of the men began to demur, but Hooper, in a tantalizing tone, drawled, "Don't be skeered, boys. Cal will sure miss him, and we 'uns can have our fun afterwards."
"I'll show yo' un. I'll show yo' un," yelled Cal, hopping around like a mad turkey.
They now all fell in with the idea, and Lawrence was placed with his back against a tree. To him the diversion came as a welcome relief. He would now die like a soldier and not like a felon.
"Hold on thar!" cried Hooper, as Jones began to pace the distance. "I said fifty paces, not fifty steps. Yo' un don't come that on me."
"I am pacin'." snarled Cal. "Want to back out, do yer?"
"Not much, but I'll do that pacin' myself." And he began.
"No, yer don't," yelled Cal. The men were about to fight when the others interfered, saying it was only fair a third party should do the pacing.
This was agreed to and the pacing duly done. Jones took his position, a huge navy revolver in his hand.
Lawrence stood facing him. Not a muscle quivered as he looked his would-be executioner in the eye.
Jones raised his weapon. "Stand back," yelled Hooper. "Don't get too close, some of yo' uns will get hurt. The Yank is in no danger."
Jones fired, but he was too angry to shoot straight, and his shot went wild.
"What did I tell yo' un? What did I tell yo' un?" cried Hooper. "Never teched the Yank or tree, either," and he kicked up his heels like a young colt. "That hoss is mine."
The whole crowd shouted in derision, and Jones, in anger, fired every shot in his revolver before they could stop him. Lawrence stood unmoved and smiling. One shot had struck the tree an inch above his head, another had passed between his arm and body, and a third had cut a little piece out of his coat on the shoulder. The humorous aspect of the affair struck him, and he laughed outright.
The guerrillas simply went crazy with delight. Many of them threw themselves on the ground rolling and kicking with laughter.
Captain Lamar heard the shots and the uproar and came to see what it meant. He had just finished his breakfast and was in a little better humor. When he heard what had happened he remarked with a cruel smile, "Turn about is fair play. Better put Cal up, and see what the Yank can do."
This suggestion took like wildfire. Cal was seized by his comrades and, frightened and begging for his life, was being hustled to the tree to take Lawrence's place when the Captain interfered. "Hold on, boys," he said. "I only wanted to frighten Cal. But if he don't learn to be a better shot I'll hang him sure. But that Yank must be a gritty fellow.
I'll have a look at him."
"Gritty," said one of the men. "Well, I should say so. He turned kind of white around the gills when he first felt the halter around his neck, and then braced up and not a whimper. Why, he actually laughed when Cal was shooting at him."
"That was because Cal was shooting so wild," remarked the Captain.
"Three of the shots came mighty close to him. Only missed him by a hair's breadth."
"Glad to hear Cal is improving," said Lamar dryly, as he walked towards Lawrence.
He had no sooner looked him in the face than an expression of surprise came over his countenance. He stepped back, swept his hand across his eyes, as if he was brushing away something, looked again and then turned away, saying, "There'll be no hanging. Untie the prisoner and bring him to my tent."
The men gazed at each other in astonishment. But great as was their surprise, greater was Lawrence's. The shock was almost as great as when he thought he had to die. Then he began to realize he had stepped from the shadow of death, and there was hope of living, and he breathed a prayer of thankfulness.
His surprise grew when Lamar called the two men who had captured him and asked what they had of his.
"Everything, Captain, but his hoss. That was killed. But we 'uns have got the hoss of the Yank that was killed," they answered.
"Well, bring everything you have of his, and the horse you captured--saddled and bridled," he ordered, and the men departed wondering.
When Lawrence was brought before Lamar he asked him what he was doing in this part of the country. Lawrence told him he had been to visit Judge Lindsly, who had greatly befriended him when he was small.
"Are you the boy whose father was tarred and feathered, and the Judge took you both in?"
"I am."