Captain Farnsworth, strange to say, was the only man in the fort who leaned to Beverley's side; but he was reticent, doubtless feeling that his position as a British prisoner gave him no right to speak, especially when every lip around him was muttering something about "infamous scalp-buyers and Indian partisans," with whom he was prominently counted by the speakers.
As Clark had said, the die was cast.

Long-Hair, bound to a stake, the scalp still dangling at his side, grimly faced his executioners, who were eager to fire.

He appeared to be proud of the fact that he was going to be killed.
"One thing I can say of him," Helm remarked to Beverley; "he's the grandest specimen of the animal--I might say the brute--man that I ever saw, red, white or black.

Just look at his body and limbs! Those muscles are perfectly marvelous." "He saved my life, and I must stand here and see him murdered," the young man replied with intense bitterness.

It was all that he could think, all that he could say.