The bells have aroused the people. The news that the Trafton horse-thieves are captured at last, in the very act of escaping with their booty, has set the town wild.
Not long since these same horse-thieves have led Trafton on to assault, to accuse, and to vilify an innocent man. Now, those who were foremost at the raiding of Bethel's cottage, are loudest in denouncing those who were then their leaders; and the cry goes up,
"Hand over the horse-thieves! Hand them out! Lynch law's good enough for them!"
But we are fourteen in number. We have captured the prisoners, and we mean to keep them.
Once more my pistols, this time fully loaded, are raised against a Trafton mob, and the vigilants follow my example.
We guard our prisoners to the door of the jail, and then the vigilants post themselves as a wall of defence about the building, while Captain Warren sets about the easy task of raising a trusty relief guard to take the places of his weary men.
It is broad day now. The sun glows round and bright above the Eastern horizon. I am very weary, but there is work yet to be done.
I leave Captain Warren at the door of the jail, and hasten toward the Hill.