Arizona Round-Up — page 121: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ARIZONA ROUNDUP 119 Next to him Sandy stood mutely, his face snow white. Bud Bailey essayed bravado, grinning and cracking jokes with the miners. “Maybe you ought to let me try a practice drop first,” he chuckled. “We shore ought to rehearse this so’s to give the crowd a good show.” There was no reply from the miners at work. They finished and jumped down, leaving four men standing six feet off the ground, the ropes around their necks allowing for about a four- foot drop. One noose, the one meant for Jed Haraway, still dangled emptily as though disappointed at not receiving a victim. The four miners stepped back of the crates and picked up the ropes fastened to the bottom. Harlan Pearson looked up at Upjohn. | “Anything to say?” he asked. The prisoner, hands shackled behind his back, shook his head. Pearson nodded and the miner jerked hard on the rope he held in his hands. The crate toppled and Upjohn’s body went down, stopping with a snap, his feet almost touching the ground. The amateur executioners had forgotten about new rope stretching. The outlaw hung by his neck, head twisted to one side, tongue protruding. He drew his legs up and down, writhing and twisting and some kind of a “gaaahhhhh!” sound emerged. Sandy stood trembling, the next man to go. He stared down at the still writh- ing figure and a choked sob broke from him. “What's the matter, Sandy?” jeered Bud Bailey. “You look sick. Hurry up and kick him off, boys, so’s he kin hold open the gates for me when I come slidin’ down the chute. One down, three to go. Somebody give the man the cigar he won. Next?” Pearson looked up at Sandy. “Anything to say?” “Yes,” cried Sandy, sheer terror in his face. “I’ve lived an awful life. I done wrong an’ I know it. I had a good home but J went wrong.” “Well,” came grimly from somebody in the crowd, “yuh shors picked a heck of a time to find it out. Kick him off.” “Won't somebody pray fer me?” Sandy begged in that choked voice. “I come from a religious home and my motherd want to know I got prayed fer. Somebody . . . pleasel” The crowd shuffled and remained silent, half of them em- barrassed at the macabre scene and the terror of the big six- comicbooks.com