Again and again the sheriff appealed to the good sense and justice of the people.
"The prisoner will have to stand a trial and the law will execute sure vengeance."
"No, it won't!" was sternly responded.
"Who'll be judge in the case?" was asked.
"Why, Judge Lyman!" was contemptuously answered.
"A blackleg himself!" was shouted by two or three voices.
"Blackleg judge, and blackleg lawyers! Oh, yes! The law will execute sure vengeance! Who was in the room gambling with Green and Hammond?"
"Judge Lyman!" "Judge Lyman!" was answered back.
"It won't do, sheriff! There's no law in the country to reach the case but Lynch law; and that the scoundrel must have. Give him to us!"
"Never! On, men, with the prisoner!" cried the sheriff resolutely, and the posse made a rush toward the door, bearing back the resisting and now infuriated crowd. Shouts, cries, oaths, and savage imprecations blended in wild discord; in the midst of which my blood was chilled by the sharp crack of a pistol. Another and another shot followed; and then, as a cry of pain thrilled the air, the fierce storm hushed its fury in an instant.