The Gentleman from Indiana - Page 90/212

In the foreglow of dawn they gathered in the Square and listened to Warren

Smith, who made a speech from the court-house fence and warned them to go

slow. They answered him with angry shouts and hootings, but he made his

big voice heard, and bade them do nothing rash; no facts were known, he

said; it was far from certain that harm had been done, and no one knew

that the Six-Cross-Roads people had done it--even if something had

happened to Mr. Harkless. He declared that he spoke in Harkless's name.

Nothing could distress him so much as for them to defy the law, to take

it out of the proper hands. Justice would be done.

"Yes it will!" shouted a man below him, brandishing the butt of a raw-hide

whip above his head. "And while you jaw on about it here, he may be tied

up like a dog in the woods, shot full of holes by the men you never lifted

a finger to hender, because you want their votes when you run for circuit

judge. What are we doin' here? What's the good of listening to you?"

There was a yell at this, and those who heard the speaker would probably

have started for the Cross-Roads without further parley, had not a rumor

sprung up, which passed so rapidly from man to man that within five

minutes it was being turbulently discussed in every portion of the crowd.

The news came that the two shell-gamblers had wrenched a bar out of a

window under cover of the storm, had broken jail, and were at large. Their

threats of the day before were remembered now, with convincing vividness.

They had sworn repeatedly to Bardlock and to the sheriff, and in the

hearing of others, that they would "do" for the man who took their money

from them and had them arrested. The prosecuting attorney, quickly

perceiving the value of this complication in holding back the mob that was

already forming, called Homer from the crowd and made him get up on the

fence and confess that his prisoners had escaped--at what time he did not

know, probably toward the beginning of the storm, when it was noisiest.

"You see," cried the attorney, "there is nothing as yet of which we can

accuse the Cross-Roads. If our friend has been hurt, it is much more

likely that these crooks did it. They escaped in time to do it, and we all

know they were laying for him. You want to be mighty careful, fellow-

citizens. Homer is already in telegraphic communication with every town

around here, and we'll have those men before night. All you've got to do

is to control yourselves a little and go home quietly." He could see that

his words (except those in reference to returning home--no one was going

home) made an impression. There rose a babble of shouting and argument and

swearing that grew continually louder, and the faces the lawyer looked

down on were creased with perplexity, and shadowed with an anger that

settled darker and darker.