Look ahere!" and he displayed two
handsful of money and jewelry.
"Thet's Abbie Prim's stuff," cried one.
The boy beside Bridge turned wide eyes upon the
man. "Where did you get it?" he cried. "Oh, Bridge,
why did you do it? Now they will kill you," and he
turned to the crowd. "Oh, please listen to me," he
begged. "He didn't steal those things. Nobody stole
them. They are mine. They have always belonged to
me. He took them out of my pocket at the jail because
he thought that I had stolen them and he wanted to
take the guilt upon himself; but they were not stolen,
I tell you--they are mine! they are mine! they are mine!"
Another new expression came into Bridge's eyes as he
listened to the boy's words; but he only shook his head.
It was too late, and Bridge knew it.
Men were adjusting ropes about their necks. "Be-
fore you hang us," said Bridge quietly, "would you mind
explaining just what we're being hanged for--it's sort of
comforting to know, you see."
"Thet's right," spoke up one of the crowd. "Thet's fair.
We want to do things fair and square. Tell 'em the
charges, an' then ask 'em ef they got anything to say
afore they're hung."
This appealed to the crowd--the last statements of
the doomed men might add another thrill to the eve-
ning's entertainment.
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