The crowd around the door increased. Finally one ventured to put his hand on the latch. The door was not locked. It swung inward, and all the Slavis fell backward in affright. The same man who had opened the door, crept back on all fours, and sticking his head inside, uttered a senseless yell. The others shrieked with laughter. Still, they dared not venture in. They gathered together in a close body outside the door, and the sound of their jabbering reached Loseis faintly. Suddenly those at the back began to push, and the first ones were thrust inside. Instantly they all swept in. With a sickness of the heart, Loseis saw one run back to the fire, and snatch up a pine branch with a burning end.
The girl groaned. It affected her like an act of sacrilege. Blackburn was indeed dead when these miserable savages feared not to overrun his house. She expected to see his private papers scattered out of the door; she waited for the house to burst into flames.
However, destruction was not their present aim. They reappeared almost immediately, yelling in triumph. He who came first held another jug aloft; and others followed; Loseis counted: two . . . three . . . four! Her chin went down on her breast. Well . . . this is the end, she thought.
Mary-Lou had seen, too. “Quick! we must go!” she gasped. “They will kill now! Quick! through the little window at the back!”
Loseis slowly shook her head. “No! You can go. I stay. As long as I am here they will not dare to enter the store.”
“Look! Look!” cried Mary-Lou. “What they care now? They will kill you!”
“Maybe,” said Loseis somberly; “but I will not run from Slavis. You go.”
Mary-Lou dropped to her knees, and hid her face in Loseis’ skirt. “No! No!” she whispered. “I never leave you.”
Pandemonium had broken loose outside. Some had rifled Blackburn’s wood pile; and armful after armful of fresh fuel was thrown on the fire. The Slavis took leave of what little humanity they had. The jugs were snatched from hand to hand; tipped up to thirsty mouths; and snatched away again. But even in their drunkenness they did not fight amongst themselves. The fighting instinct was absent in this degenerate people. It was an ugly thing to see the miserable little creatures, born under the shadow of fear, and obliged to cringe to all men, now released of their fears by whisky. They expressed their freedom by throwing their heads back and howling like dogs; and by dancing around the fire with legs and arms all abroad like jumping-jacks. The great, round moon, rising a little higher to-night, looked down on this scene with her accustomed serenity.
Finally they began to turn their attention to the store. At first they did not dare to approach; but one or another would hide behind his fellows and squall derisively in the direction of Loseis. The others would laugh in the childish way of savages. These were merely animal cries, without words. Later Loseis began to hear the word Burn! cried from one to another. She shivered internally. Meanwhile the jugs were still circulating, rousing them to a pitch of frenzy.