"That is Bill Ogle," he said, "the worst man of the murder mob."
Captain Bill looked pleased.
"Good-by," he nodded, "I want to see Bill Ogle."
He stepped briskly in the direction of the two men who, seeing him approach, separated and loafed off in different directions. Captain Bill overhauled the constable.
"See here," he said composedly, "I heard you call me a name a while ago when you were talking to that murderer, Bill Ogle, who is going down the street yonder. Now, an officer that throws in with a murder mob, ain't worth what it would cost to try, and hang, and if I hear any more names out of you I'll save this country the expense of one rope, anyway."
The constable attempted to mutter some denial. Captain Bill left him abruptly with only a parting word of advice and set off down the street after Ogle. Ogle had crossed the street and passed through the court-house to a hardware store on the other side—where a number of his friends had collected.
"Don't go over there, Captain," cautioned his friend, "you'll be killed, sure."
"Well, I'll go over and see," Captain Bill replied quaintly, continuing straight toward the mob store.
As he entered there was a little stir, then silence. Evidently those present had not expected that he would walk straight among them. Here he was—they could kill him and put an end to all this trouble in short order. But somehow they didn't do it. There seemed no good moment to begin. Captain Bill walked over and faced Ogle.
"Come outside," he said quietly, "I want to talk to you."