The sheriff looked at the young girl curiously. The crowd now had surged about them. Like so many cattle at the smell of blood, a strange low sound, animal-like, a sort of moan of curiosity, seemed to rise. Wide-eyed, the girl turned.
"What is it, Don?" she exclaimed. "What has happened? The Tarbush case—what do you mean?"
"I'm going to take him to the coroner's hearing, miss," said the sheriff in a low tone of voice.
"Why, you see, Anne," began Don, "the city marshal of this town was killed last night. I suppose the coroner is looking into it. It's a terrible thing—the town's all upset—haven't you heard anything of it?"
"Why, no. I left home before any of our papers came out. How did it happen?"
Don felt the sheriff again touch his arm. "Step into my car," said he, "both of you—you get on the front seat with me."
A moment later they were whirling off up the dusty street toward the central part of the town. The crowd, breaking into little groups, came hurrying on along the sidewalks, some even falling into a run in the middle of the street.
"Well, he got him!" said one citizen to another. "Quick work for the sher'ff, wasn't it? A little more and that fellow would 'a' got off on that train, like enough. That's what he was down here for. I seen him lookin' for the train."
"Yes, and that young fellow had a dangerous look on him, too," said another. "He's bad, that's what he is! Look how he showed it yesterday—right after court, too."
Each had this or that comment to make, but all followed on now toward the scenes where the further action in the drama of the day must now ensue.