In addition to making two-thirds of the men drunk, Shirley poisoned their minds by telling them what a very bad man Mr. Willett had been in Detroit, and he intimated, in a way more powerful than a direct accusation, that he had poisoned his wife.
The result of all this was that by the evening of that rainy day a great mob, inflamed with liquor and driven into fury by lies, was shouting for the lives of Mr. Willett and his companion.
The guards not having been subjected to the influence of the bars were calm and determined to do what they believed to be their duty.
Soon after dark one of the guards, a tall, rugged man named Collins came into the tent, and, turning up the lamp that hung from the pole in the center, he said:
"I'm afraid, gents, we are goin' to have trouble."
"Trouble!" repeated Mr. Willett, as he rose from the blanket on which he had been lying. "I don't see how our trouble can be increased."
"I'll tell you how," said Collins, evidently very much excited. "You know those of us here at Hurley's Gulch that are in for doin' about what's right, want to give you gents a fair show."
"That is what I want to believe," said Mr. Willett.
"Well, I'm very much afeerd that things has took a change for the worst."
Collins hesitated, and Mr. Willett said: