Morton looked around at each of us in turn.
“I suppose you know you are proceeding against a regularly constituted officer of the law?” he reminded us. Receiving no reply, he beckoned me. “Can I speak to you alone a moment?” he asked.
“I will send for our leader,” I replied.
“No,” said he, “I want no leader. You’ll do as well.”
I approached him. In an anxious tone he asked:
“Is there any way of getting out of this scrape? Think well!”
“None,” said I firmly. “You must die.”
With revolvers drawn we marched them outside. A wild yell greeted their appearance. The cries were now mixed in sentiment. A hundred voices raised in opposition were cried down by twice as many more. “Hang ’em!” cried some. “No, no, banish them!” cried others. “Don’t hang them!” and blood-curdling threats. A single shot would have brought on a pitched battle. Somehow eventually the tumult died down. Then Morton, who had been awaiting his chance, spoke up in a strong voice.
365“I call on you in the name of the law to arrest and disperse these law-breakers.”
“Where is Tom Cleveland?” spoke up a voice.