No; he was not afraid to meet his God. He had wronged no man, and
kept within the bounds of the laws set for his kind. But he had a
message to leave--it was enclosed in a letter which he put into the
hand of the minister.
"It is for Annette Marton. Oh, my God. We have been only two days
betrothed. It is very hard to die."
"This doom was ordained for you, and you must try to meet it like a
man."
"Oh, it is not death I fear. That is nothing. But, ah, to leave my
love." After he had passed his hands across his temples, as if to
clear his understanding, he said, in a voice grown low and calm-"There is also upon the table a note to my sister, Aster. That is
all I have to say."
"Will you not pray with me awhile?"
"No; my heart is right; the rest matters not."
There was now a rude bustling at the door; the rusty key was plied,
and with a harsh scream the bolt flew back. Then the evil-looking Luc
entered, followed by three others, all of whom seemed partially
intoxicated.
"Your hour has come, young man," Lestang said, in a brutal voice.
"Let us be jogging."
Stephens then bade good-bye to the visitors who had re-entered; to
the clergyman, and to one or two prisoners detained for minor
offences. His face was deathly pale, but his eye was steadfast and
his step firm.
Beyond the entrance to the building, about an arrow's flight, was
drawn up a firing party; and midway between these and one of the
bastions of the fort was an open coffin. Thither Luc and his guard
led the condemned man.
"Stop a moment till I bind you," Luc said, taking a hempen cord from
about his waist. Then he fastened Stephens' hands behind his back,
and with the most devilish cruelty tied the cord far tighter than
might be needed for the most refractory culprit. Indeed, his arms
were almost dislocated at the shoulders, and when the brutal jailer
saw the corners of his mouth twitch under the torture, he said, with
a bestial sneer-"It'll not hurt long. Should be patient."
These words had barely escaped the fellow's lips when a terrified
cry went up from a score of throats gathered about; and immediately a
scene of the wildest confusion prevailed.
"Les soldats! Les soldats!" shouted one and all: and immediately the
little Cree scout was seen upon the earthworks, the eyes of her horse
gleaming, spray drifting from his open jaws. Close following Annette
came Lieutenant Browninge waving his sword above his head, and
shouting, "Down with the rebels!" at the same time slashing the scurrying
enemy in such a fashion with his sword as would gladden one's heart.