It had amused Jack to experiment with his own
knife; and the very novelty of the thing had impelled him to slip his
dagger into the new hiding-place that morning when he dressed. The
Captain had not discovered it there--but would it make any difference?
It occurred to him that he need not die the death of dangling and
strangling at the end of the rope, at any rate; if it came to dying...
Jack became acutely conscious of the steady beat in his chest, and
immediately afterward felt the same throb in his throat; he could stop
that beating whenever he chose, if they did not bind his arms.
"Horse's ready, Captain," announced Shorty succinctly, thrusting his
head through the closed flaps; and the Captain rose instantly and made
a commanding gesture to his prisoner.
Jack swept the loose dirt back into the furrow with one swing of his
foot and stood up. He went out quietly, two steps in advance of the
Captain and the Captain's drawn pistol, and advanced unflinchingly
towards the horse that stood saddled in the midst of the group of
executioners, with the same curious crowd looking on greedily at the
spectacle.
"Ever been on a horse?" asked the Captain, his deep voice little more
than a growl.
"Once or twice," Jack answered indifferently.
"Climb on, then!"
Jack was young and he was very human. It might be his last hour on
earth, but there rose up in him a prideful desire to show them whether
he had ever been on a horse; he caught the saddle-horn with one hand
and vaulted vaingloriously into the saddle without touching a toe to
the stirrup.
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