yer two
han's--an' her so high an' mighty!" The querulous voice ceased, while
he had recourse again to the stone jug.

When next he spoke, it was evident that his mood had changed. He was
no longer harshly self-assertive, vainglorious, or brutally frank
concerning the passion that consumed him. He was, instead, strangely
reminiscent, with involuntary revelation of the weakness that preyed
upon him. The girl was grateful for the change in him, but her
bewilderment increased.

"I seen a feller hung once," Hodges said. His guttural, awed tones
were hushed almost to a whisper. "They pulled a black cap down over
'is face, so's he couldn't see nothin' 'bout what he was up ag'inst.
An' his han's was tied together behind 'is neck, with the knot up
under his ear--'is left ear, I 'member hit was. I 'member
partic'lar."

The speaker's gaze had been downcast; not once had he looked at
Plutina. It was as if he had forgotten the girl's presence there with
him, and communed aloud with his own gristly memories of the
death-scene he had witnessed. His huge bulk seemed somehow shrunken--a
physical shriveling in response to the craven fear in his soul. That
gray, mottled purple of his face showed again. Plutina wondered, if,
indeed, this same memory had been in his thoughts the night before.
But, if so, it only made the thing the more inexplicable. Why should a
hanging, long-past, thus haunt him? He was no nervous weakling, to be
tortured by imaginary fears. Yet, now, he displayed unmistakable signs
of terror, in his voice, his eyes, his whole mien, in the shaking
haste that spilled the half of the drink he poured out.

"I seen 'im hung," he repeated, abjectly. "They let the trap drap from
under his feet--an' 'im all tied, an' thet-thar black cap pulled down
over 'is face to blind 'im. Hit were plumb awful fer to see 'im drap.
An' then the rope stopped 'im right in the air. Hit were a drefful
yank he got. They say, hit broke 'is neck, so's he didn't feel nothin'
more. But I dunno. Hit looked like he felt a heap, fer he kicked an'
squirmed like hell. Hit weren't purty fer to see. I've seen a big
bull-frog what I've speared kick an' squirm jest like 'im. No, hit
weren't purty. I'd shore hate fer to have my neck bruk thet-thar way.
Damn the law, anyhow! They hadn't orter treat no white man thet-thar
way. Hit must feel awful, a-standin' up thar, with thet-thar cap down
over ye, shuttin' out everythin'--ferever; an' with thet-thar noose