had crept up to a window and shot
a man sitting at the supper-table with his family. The murderer had
harbored a grudge against his victim, had made threats, and before he
could escape, was caught red-handed with the freshly fired pistol in
his hand. The evidence of guilt was beyond question, and a vigilance
committee didn't waste any time in hanging him to the nearest tree.

"The burying took place the next afternoon. The murdered man was a
popular citizen, and the village and country turned out to pay their
last respects. But when the services were over, a number of us lingered
behind, as it was understood that the slayer as well as his victim would
be interred in the same grounds. A second grave had been prepared, and
within an hour a wagon containing a woman, three small children, and
several Mexicans drove up to the rear side of the inclosure. There was
no mistaking the party, the coffin was carried in to the open grave,
when every one present went over to offer friendly services. But as we
neared the little group the woman picked up a shovel and charged on
us like a tigress. I never saw such an expression of mingled anger and
anguish in a human countenance as was pictured in that woman's face. We
shrank from her as if she had been a lioness, and when at last she found
her tongue, every word cut like a lash. Livid with rage, the spittle
frothing from her mouth, she drove us away, saying:

"'Oh, you fiends of hell, when did I ask your help? Like the curs you
are, you would lick up the blood of your victim! Had you been friends to
me or mine, why did you not raise your voice in protest when they were
strangling the life out of the father of my children? Away, you cowardly
hounds! I've hired a few Mexicans to help me, and I want none of your
sympathy in this hour. Was it your hand that cut him down from the tree
this morning, and if it was not, why do I need you now? Is my shame not
enough in your eyes but that you must taunt me further? Do my innocent
children want to look upon the faces of those who robbed them of a
father? If there is a spark of manhood left in one of you, show it
by leaving me alone! And you other scum, never fear but that you will
clutter hell in reward for last night's work. Begone, and leave me with
my dead!'"

The circus had ended. The lateness of the hour was unobserved by any one
until John Levering asked me if he should bring in my horse. It lacked
less than half an hour until the guards