The editor laughed:
"Certainly, certainly—with pleasure, I assure you."
The captain lifted his hand and his men lowered their guns. The editor seized a number of blank writing pads, a box of pencils, put on his hat and called to his assistants:
"I'm moving my office temporarily to the county jail, boys. It's quieter over there. I can do better work. Send word to my home that I'm all right and tell my wife not to worry for a minute. Every man to his post now and the liveliest paper ever issued! And on time to the minute."
The printers had crowded into the room and a ringing cheer suddenly startled the troopers.
The foreman held an ugly piece of steel in his hand and every man seemed to have hold of something.
"Give the word, chief!" the foreman cried.
The editor smiled:
"Thanks, boys, I understand. Go back to your work. You can help best that way."
The men dropped their weapons and crowded to the door, jeering and howling in derision at the awkward squad as they stumbled down the stairs after their commander, who left the building holding tightly to the editor's arm, as if at any moment he expected an escape or a rescue.