He beckoned to Joan.
The spell was broken, and pandemonium reigned. "Look out—he's makin' a get-away!"
"Aw, what's the use? Leave him go!"
"By God, it was my sister—"
"Let me at him"—
"The gen'leman's right, I tell you!"—
And penetrating all a laconic drawl, "Stranger, leggo that nigger, and leggo quick."
Joan, on tiptoe, saw her father's head and beckoning hand above the crowd.
"Go on, James!" she said tensely. "Never mind if you run them down—"
"Stop!" gasped Effie May. "Don't you see those pistols? They mean to shoot!"