He was a young
man, not more than twenty perhaps, with black hair and a smooth, pale,
sallow face. His eyes were cast down, and he paid no attention to us,
standing there staring at him, and he appeared to be suffering or ill.
After a few moments I shrank away to the door and asked our conductor
in a frightened whisper why he was tied up to a post there. Our native
boy seemed to be quite pleased at the effect on us, and answered
cheerfully that he was a murderer--he had committed a murder
somewhere, and had been caught last evening, but as it was too late to
take him to the lock-up at the village, which was a long distance
away, they had brought him here as the most convenient place, and tied
him in the barn to keep him safe. Later on they would come and take
him away.
Murder was a common word in those days, but I had not at that time
grasped its meaning; I had seen no murder done, nor any person killed
in a fight; I only knew that it must be something wicked and horrible.
Nevertheless, the shock I had received passed away in the course of
that first morning in a new world; but what I had seen in the barn was
not forgotten: the image of that young man tied to the post, his bent
head and downward gaze, and ghastly face shaded by lank black hair, is
as plain to me now as if I had seen him but yesterday.
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