"Go ahead, and have this done with," he said to the officer in charge of
the affair.
"Are you quite ready now?" asked the sergeant.
"Yes," was the answer in a faltering tone.
"Make ready!" and the twelve glittering muskets were leveled at this
sacrifice to the wrath of Captain Snipes.
"Take aim!" and the gunners steadied themselves for the fatal word, to
send a fellow being to eternity.
"Fire!" and instantly flashed a volley, reverberating a wild and
unearthly death knell among the crags that looked down upon that awful
scene. In the clear morning air, the smoke of the guns curled up lazily
and hung like a funeral pall over the mangled, bleeding form. Four
bullets had pierced his body. He fell on his face and lay motionless for
a few seconds. Then he began to slowly raise his head. Fernando came
near and stood in front of him. Ten thousand years could not efface that
scene from his mind. He continued to raise his head and body without a
struggle. He looked the captain in the eye, and his mouth was in motion
as though he were trying to speak,--to utter some dying accusation.
Never did human eye behold a scene so pitiful as this dying man gazing
on his destroyer, gasping to implore or to denounce him. In an instant a
dimness came over his eyes, and he fell dead.
"Oh, Heaven!" groaned Fernando, and he hurried away to the ship.
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