Somebody asked him if he wanted anything.
"'Whisky,' says Boone.

And he got it.
"Then he shook his hand and held it up.

He had a sore finger and it bothered him a lot more than the thought of hangin'.
"'You gents get through with this or else tie up my finger,' he kept sayin'." "Helm wasn't the whole show.

There was some others bein' hung that day and when one of them dropped off his box, Boone says: 'There's one gone to hell.' Pretty soon another went, and hung there wiggling, and six times he went through all the motions of pullin' his six-shooter and firin' it.

I counted.