As noon approaches there is excitement in the market place.  The gallows which hangs there permanently for the terror of evildoers, with such minor advertizers and examples of crime as the pillory, the whipping post, and the stocks, has a new rope attached, with the noose hitched up to one of the uprights, out of reach of the boys.  Its ladder, too, has been brought out and placed in position by the town beadle, who stands by to guard it from unauthorized climbing.  The Websterbridge townsfolk are present in force, and in high spirits; for the news has spread that it is the devil’s disciple and not the minister that the Continentals (so they call Burgoyne’s forces) are about to hang:  consequently the execution can be enjoyed without any misgiving as to its righteousness, or to the cowardice of allowing it to take place without a struggle.  There is even some fear of a disappointment as midday approaches and the arrival of the beadle with the ladder remains the only sign of preparation.  But at last reassuring shouts of Here they come:  Here they are, are heard; and a company of soldiers with fixed bayonets, half British infantry, half Hessians, tramp quickly into the middle of the market place, driving the crowd to the sides.

Sergeant.  Halt.  Front.  Dress. (The soldiers change their column into a square enclosing the gallows, their petty officers, energetically led by the sergeant, hustling the persons who find themselves inside the square out at the corners.) Now then!  Out of it with you:  out of it.  Some o’ you’ll get strung up yourselves presently.  Form that square there, will you, you damned Hoosians.  No use talkin’ German to them:  talk to their toes with the butt ends of your muskets:  they’ll understand that.  Get out of it, will you? (He comes upon Judith, standing near the gallows.) Now then:  You’ve no call here.

Judith.  May I not stay?  What harm am I doing?

Sergeant.  I want none of your argufying.  You ought to be ashamed of yourself, running to see a man hanged that’s not your husband.  And he’s no better than yourself.  I told my major he was a gentleman; and then he goes and tries to strangle him, and calls his blessed Majesty a lunatic.  So out of it with you, double quick.

Judith.  Will you take these two silver dollars and let me stay?

The sergeant, without an instant’s hesitation, looks quickly and furtively round as he shoots the money dexterously into his pocket.  Then he raises his voice in virtuous indignation.

Sergeant.  Me take money in the execution of my duty!  Certainly not.  Now I’ll tell you what I’ll do, to teach you to corrupt the King’s officer.  I’ll put you under arrest until the execution’s over.  You just stand there; and don’t let me see you as much as move from that spot until you’re let. (With a swift wink at her he points to the corner of the square behind the gallows on his right, and turns noisily away, shouting) Now then dress up and keep ’em back, will you?