m
natives of the north.

Sconda had already stooped, as if to touch the brand to the inflammable
material about the victim's feet, when Weston stepped within the ring,
and ordered him to wait. Sconda immediately straightened himself up
and stepped back.

"Save me! Save me!" Curly yelled. "Don't let these devils burn me!
For God's sake, save me! Oh, oh!"

For a few seconds Weston stood with folded arms looking upon the
helpless man. Then his lips curled in a sarcastic smile.

"You've got only yourself to blame for this," he began. "Did you not
bet that you would defy all the power of Glen West, and lure my
daughter to her ruin? You can't deny it."

"No, no, I don't deny it. I was a fool, a madman. But save me, oh,
save me! Don't let them burn me!"

"Do you think you are worth saving, Curly Inkles? You are a
plague-spot in any community. You have brought untold misery upon many
innocent ones, and why should you be allowed to do so to others?"

"I will never do any harm again," Curly whined. "I swear by all that
is holy that I will change my life."

"Bah, I wouldn't give the snap of a finger for all the oaths you make,
Curly. You don't know the meaning of an oath. Your soul is so seared
and blackened that one might as well try to change that stump to which
you are bound into a living one as to transform you into a good
citizen. No, it is better for you to be off the earth than on it."

"But it's murder!" Curly yelled. "Would you murder a helpless man?
You will hang for it, and all these devils here."

"How do you dare to speak about murdering a helpless man?" Weston
asked. "What happened to Bill Ducett, at Black Ravine?"

At these words Curly's eyes fairly started from their sockets, and the
perspiration poured down his face in great beads.

"W-what d'ye know about that?" he gasped. "W-who are you, anyway?"

"Oh, never mind who I am, or how much I know. It is sufficient for the
present to say that I have all the knowledge necessary to stretch your
neck. You have now run the length of your wild career, and it shows
you that it is impossible to escape justice here or anywhere else.
But, there, I've wasted too much time talking to you, so get ready."

"Oh, oh, don't burn me!" Curly shrieked, as Weston turned and spoke to
Sconda.

"Burn you? No!" was the contemptuous reply. "I wouldn't foul this
place by burning a thing like you; it wouldn't be fair to others who
have been brought here