He led the way to Johnny’s cell. The conversation had been low-voiced; Johnny was asleep. Gwinne roused him.
“Hey, Johnny! When is your friend coming to break you out?”
“Huh?” said Johnny.
“If he shows up, send him to the back door, and I’ll let him in. We’re going to have a lynchin’ bee presently.”
“Why, that was me!” said Charlie.
“Oh, was it? Excuse me. I didn’t recognize your voice. You was speakin’ pretty low, you see. I was right round the corner. Dog heard you, and I heard the dog. Well, that’s too bad. We could use another good man, right now.” Mr. Gwinne spoke the last words with some annoyance. “Well, come on—let’s get everything ready. You fellows had better scatter round on top of the cells. I reckon the iron is thick enough to turn a bullet. Anyhow, they can’t see you. I’ll put out the light. I’m going to have a devil of a time to keep this dog quiet. I’ll have to stay right with him or he’ll bark and spoil the effect.”
“They’re coming,” announced Spinal Maginnis, from a window. “Walkin’ quiet—but I hear ’em crossin’ the gravel.”
“By-by, Dinesy,” said See. “I’ve been rolling my warhoop, like you said.”
The jail was dark and silent. About it shadows mingled, scattered, and gathered again. There was a whispered colloquy. Then a score of shadows detached themselves from the gloom. They ranged themselves in a line opposite the jail door. Other shadows crept from either side and took stations along the wall, ready to rush in when the door was broken down.
A low whistle sounded. The men facing the door came forward at a walk, at a trot, at a run. They carried a huge beam, which they used as a battering ram. As they neared the door the men by the jail wall crowded close. At the last step the beam bearers increased their pace and heaved forward together.