because the moonlight, she said, cast over them such a
glamour of romance. And her looking at moonlight hangings that way
seemed to give him such a jolt he stopped talking and give a kind of a
gasp. There wasn't no more time for talking, anyway--for just then the
train backed in to the platform and the conductor sung out the
Friendly Aiders had got to get a move on 'em, if them going by it was
to see the doings, and put Shorty through.

Being moonlight, and the shadows thick, helped considerable--keeping
from showing how the boys had fixed Shorty up so his hanging wouldn't
come hard: with a lariat run round under his arms, his shirt over it,
and a loop just inside his collar where they could hitch the rope
fast. When they did hitch to it, things looked just as natural as you
please.

Shorty got right into the hanging spirit--he always was a comical
little cuss, Shorty was--pleading pitiful with the boys to let up on
him; and, when they wouldn't, getting a halt on 'em--same as he'd seen
done at real hangings--by beginning to send messages to all the folks
he ever had. Santa Fe let him go on till he'd got to his uncles and
cousins--and then he said he guessed the rest of the family could make
out to do with second-hand messages from them that had them; and as it
was past train-time, and the distinguished stranger in their
midst--who was going on it--would enjoy seeing the show through, the
hanging had got to be shoved right along. When Charley'd give his
order, Carver come up--he was the Pullman conductor, Carver was, and
he had his points how to manage--and steered the little man onto the
back platform of the Pullman, where he could see well; and so had
things all ready for the train to pull out as soon as Shorty was swung
off.

Wood, who'd had experience, had the rope rigged up in good shape over
the cross-bar of the telegraph-pole; and Hill and Denver fetched old
Shorty along--with Shorty letting on he was scared stiff, and yowling
like he'd been ashamed to if it hadn't been a bunco game he was
playing--and hitched him to it, with the boys standing close round in
a clump so they hid the way it was done.

The little man was so worked up by that time--it likely being he
hadn't seen much of hangings--he was just a-hopping: with his plug hat
off, and sousing the sweat off his face with his pocket-handkerchief,
and singing out what was going on wasn't any better than murder, and
begging all hands not to do what he sai