"Better give in, judge," called out the juror who had pronounced the sentence. "You see you can do no good, and will only get hurt. You have done all one man can do, but the boys are determined, even if it costs a dozen lives."
"Don't get yourself into trouble upon my account, Mr. McGuire," exclaimed the prisoner. "These devils want blood, and it may as well come now as to-morrow. Besides," and here he lowered his tone, "remember your—family."
CHAPTER V.
BORDER LAW.
"Gentlemen," said the judge, after a moment's pause, "if you persist in this outrage, I wash my hands of both it and you, from this moment. You can choose another judge, and another leader, for I shall act no longer as either. I thought you were men, not savages."
"What matter?" called out several voices, "he is not the only man that lives. Let him slide, and out with the prisoner."
The crowd surged forward and surrounded the table, yelling and growling like wild beasts. For a moment it seemed as if Poynter meditated resistance, as he drew himself up and grasped the back of his chair, but if such was his intention, it was changed.
A dozen hands lifted him to the floor, where he was securely bound, hand and foot—as he had been until now entirely free, so far as bonds were concerned. Then he was lifted bodily upon their shoulders, each man appearing eager to be one of his bearers. In this manner he was conveyed from the room followed by the hooting, yelling crowd; leaving but one man behind—Neil McGuire.
To say that the prisoner was not alarmed, would perhaps be wrong, but he showed no outward sign of being so. He well knew that he was in danger—that his life was in peril; for although, just at present, nothing was spoken of but whipping, yet when blood was once seen, would it not act upon their worser passions until the job would be finished out of hand, to save further trouble?