"Well, I don't know," said one voice, "they lynched a man in Illinois. America's getting lawless! Think about lynching people! It ain't right!"
"There's nothing they won't do," said Big Aleck's voice, virtuously. "They ask us we shall have respect for a Government that lets people lynch folks!"
"You didn't see any one when you was down in the road, Aleck?" asked some one again, uneasily.
"I told you, no. Well, we got to get to work."
Mary Warren heard them rising from their places. Footfalls passed here and there, shuffling. The woman could not repress her shuddering. This was Force—unrestrained, ignorant, unleashed, brute Force, that same aftermath Force which was rending apart the world back of the new-dried battlefields of Europe! Order and law, comfort, love, affection, trust—all these things were gone!
What then was her footing here—a woman? Was God indeed asleep? She heard her own soul begging for alleviating death.
Then came silence, except for the airs high up in the sobbing trees. They were gone on their errand. After that,—what?
After a time she heard a sound of dread—the sliddering of a footfall in the sand. She recognized the heavy, dragging stride of the man who had brought her here. He had come back—alone.
Terror seized her, keen and clarifying terror. She screamed, again and again, called aloud the only name that came to her mind.
"Sim!" she cried aloud again and again—"Sim! Sim!"