s neck.
It was attached to a stout cross-timber above his head and the slack
fell to the level of his knees. Some loose boards laid upon the sleepers
supporting the metals of the railway supplied a footing for him and his
executioners--two private soldiers of the Federal army, directed by a
sergeant who in civil life may have been a deputy sheriff. At a short
remove upon the same temporary platform was an officer in the uniform of
his rank, armed. He was a captain. A sentinel at each end of the bridge
stood with his rifle in the position known as "support," that is to say,
vertical in front of the left shoulder, the hammer resting on the
forearm thrown straight across the chest--a formal and unnatural
position, enforcing an erect carriage of the body. It did not appear to
be the duty of these two men to know what was occurring at the centre of
the bridge; they merely blockaded the two ends of the foot planking that
traversed it.

Beyond one of the sentinels nobody was in sight; the railroad ran
straight away into a forest for a hundred yards, then, curving, was lost
to view. Doubtless there was an outpost farther along. The other bank of
the stream was open ground--a gentle acclivity topped with a stockade of
vertical tree trunks, loop-holed for rifles, with a single embrasure
through which protruded the muzzle of a brass cannon commanding the
bridge. Mid-way of the slope between bridge and fort were the
spectators--a single company of infantry in line, at "parade rest," the
butts of the rifles on the ground, the barrels inclining slightly
backward against the right shoulder, the hands crossed upon the stock. A
lieutenant stood at the right of the line, the point of his sword upon
the ground, his left hand resting upon his right. Excepting the group of
four at the centre of the bridge, not a man moved. The company faced the
bridge, staring stonily, motionless. The sentinels, facing the banks of
the stream, might have been statues to adorn the bridge. The captain
stood with folded arms, silent, observing the work of his subordinates,
but making no sign. Death is a dignitary who when he comes announced is
to be received with formal manifestations of respect, even by those most
familiar with him. In the code of military etiquette silence and fixity
are forms of deference.

The man who was engaged in being hanged was apparently about thirty-five
years of age. He was a civilian, if one might judge from his habit,
which was