The Judge looked about him. The indications did not appear to him indicative of peace and quiet.
"Air we?" he inquired.
"I'm coming back here in a half-hour," said the new Sheriff. "This is an unlawful and armed assembly. When I get back, I want to find the court-house occupied only by unarmed citizens who have business here."
"When ye comes back," suggested the County Judge, "I'd advise that ye resigns yore job. A half-hour is about es long as ye ought ter try ter hold hit."
Samson turned and walked through the scowling crowd to the court-house steps.
"Gentlemen," he said, in a clear, far-carrying voice, "there is no need of an armed congregation at this court-house. I call on you in the name of the law to lay aside your arms or scatter."
There was murmur which for an instant threatened to become a roar, but trailed into a chorus of derisive laughter.
Samson went to the hotel, accompanied by Callomb. A half-hour later, the two were back at the court-house, with a half-dozen companions. The yard was empty. Samson carried his father's rifle. In that half-hour a telegram, prepared in advance, had flashed to Frankfort.
"Mob holds court-house—need troops."
And a reply had flashed back: