Dixon, a Choctaw, twenty years of age,
  Had killed a miner in a Leadville brawl;
Tried and condemned, the rough-beards curb their rage,
  And watch him stride in freedom from the hall.

“Return on Friday, to be shot to death!”
  So ran the sentence,—it was Monday night.
The dead man’s comrades drew a well-pleased breath;
  Then all...