It consisted of the constable, supported by several able-bodied citizens, and followed, of course, by a promiscuous rabble.
Jim gave vent to a low chuckle.
"See the idiots," he said, "coming like mountain bandits. No doubt they look for fierce resistance. Don't let them think you are too much interested in the case."
"I won't," I said, briefly, for the men were hurrying down the hill. "It would not be politic, but I'll have you out of their clutches, Long, without a scratch, sure and soon."
I turned toward the house as I finished the sentence, and Jim arose and went toward the gate; not the man of easy movements and courteous speech who had been my companion for the past twenty-four hours, not Long, the gentleman, but "Long Jim," the loafer, awkward, slouching, uncouth of manner and speech.
As the crowd made a somewhat noisy approach, Jim leaned over the gate and motioned them to silence.
"Gentlemen," he said, seriously, "ye can't be any too still about this place, an' ye'd a' showed better gumption if ye hadn't paid yer respects in a squad, as if ye was comin' to a hangin'. Somehow ye seem mighty fond o' waitin' on Dr. Bethel in a gang."
Acting upon a hint from me, Mr. Harris now went out, and in milder words, but with much the same meaning, exhorted the visitors to quiet.
And then, casting a quick glance behind him, and a somewhat apprehensive one toward Jim, the constable read his warrant. The two men inside the gate listened with astonished faces. Indeed, Jim's assumption of amazement, viewed in the light of my knowledge concerning its genuineness, was ludicrous beyond description.