The guards, horse and foot, and constables formed a wide circle round it to keep off the mob.
It was an awful moment--so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended.
At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,--a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,--and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move.
The next instant, he was launched into eternity! Scarcely had he been turned off a moment, when a man with swarthy features leapt into the cart with an open clasp-knife in his hand, and, before he could be prevented, severed the rope, and cut down the body.
It was Blueskin.

His assistance came too late.

A ball from Wild's pistol passed through his heart, and a volley of musketry poured from the guards lodged several balls in the yet breathing body of his leader.
Blueskin, however, was not unattended.

A thousand eager assistants pressed behind him.

Jack's body was caught, and passed from hand to hand over a thousand heads, till it was far from the fatal tree.
The shouts of indignation--the frightful yells now raised baffle description.