"And while we are dealing with Lambert, don't let's forget Tom Randolph," shouted a third.
"Tom Randolph is in no way to blame for what happened at Baton Rouge," said Mr. Gray, who was one of the few cool and reasonable men there were in the crowd. "He has no more authority over the Home Guards than I have."
"Then I say let's lick him because he hasn't some authority over them so that he can make them behave themselves. What did he organize the company for, anyhow?"
"That is what I should like to know. Now mark my words: there will be a Yankee garrison in Baton Rouge in less than a week, and then our trading will be up stump, for we can't go there any more."
"That's so. What excuse has that man Lambert for living, I'd like to know? Let's bu'st him and the Home Guards up right here and now."
Uttering wild yells of approval, with which were mingled loud calls for ropes and dire threats against the peace of mind and bodily comfort of Captain Tom Randolph, the crowd made a rush for the door, and it was several minutes before Mr. Gray and the cool-headed men who sided with him could make themselves heard above the tumult.
"Be reasonable, gentlemen," urged the former. "Don't let your excitement lead you to do something you will be heartily ashamed of and sorry for to-morrow. You cannot touch those men in the way you suggest, especially Tom Randolph, who is a State officer. Whoop and yell about it all you please," he continued, after the angry shouts of dissent which these words called forth had subsided, "but it is a fact that Tom holds a commission from the Governor, and if you put your hands on him you will go to jail to pay for it. Confederate officers might deal with him, though on that point I am not sure; but private citizens certainly cannot."
These warning words caused a dissension in the ranks of the would-be lynchers at once, and the hubbub that arose all over the room, as well as from the outside, where there was a respectable gathering that had not been able to gain admittance to the dining hall, was almost deafening. Mr. Gray looked troubled as he saw his angry neighbors swaying back and forth and shaking their clenched hands in one another's faces, and presently he stooped and whispered a few hasty words to Ned Griffin, who, after a terrific struggle, managed to work his way through the crowd to the nearest window, by which he made his exit from the building. He was charged with an important duty, and he was anxious to discharge it without loss of time; but the men on the outside insisted on detaining him until he told what was going on in the dining room.
"Honor bright, there isn't anything going on in there that would interest you or anybody else," declared Ned, who knew full well that it would never do to say that there was some talk of lynching Lieutenant Lambert and "bu'sting up" Tom Randolph. "Mr. Gray has been quoting some law, that's all. Let me go, please. I want to tell Mrs. Gray that the excitement is all over."
The men released him and Ned made his way to the hitching rack where he had left his horse, mounted, and galloped off. He made a great show of riding down the road toward Mr. Gray's house, but as soon as he thought he could do so without attracting attention he turned back, and went at top speed toward the plantation on which Lieutenant Lambert found employment as overseer. Paying no heed to the small army of dogs that came out to dispute his advance he rode close to the door of the overseer's house, there being no porch to bar his way, and tapped lightly upon it with the handle of his riding-whip. If he had made a good deal of noise it is probable that he would not have received any response from the solitary occupant of the building, who was thoroughly frightened at what he had done, but totally ignorant of the fact that his life would be in danger if Mr. Gray and his friends failed in their efforts to control the mob at the hotel. The cautious way in which his visitor strove to attract his attention told him that there was something afoot, and he thought it best to answer.