The shooting was kept up until after the man was dead, many of the
bullets hitting the side of the hotel. It was simply maddening to have
to stay in that room and be compelled to listen to the moans and death
gurgle of that murdered man, and hear him cry, "Oh, my lassie, my poor
lassie!" as he did over and over again, until he could no longer
speak. It seemed as though every time he tried to say one word, there
was the report of a pistol. After he was really dead we could hear the
fiends running off, and then other people came and carried the body
away.
The shooting altogether did not last longer than five or ten minutes,
and at almost the first shot we could hear calls all over the wretched
little town of "Vigilante! Vigilante!" and knew that the vigilantes
were gathering, but before they could get together the murderous work
had been finished. All the time there had been perfect silence
throughout the hotel. The proprietor told us that he got up, but that
it would have been certain death if he or anyone else had opened a
door.
Hal was on the floor in a corner of our room, and began to growl after
the very first scream, and I was terrified all the time for fear he
would go to the open window and attract the attention of those
murderers below, who would undoubtedly have commenced firing at the
window and perhaps have killed all of us.
