The crowd was beginning to be excited. Steve took charge at once. He spoke a few words in a calm, level, assured tone; stated the fact of Rupert Gray’s arrest by Leech’s order, not for his own offence, but more for that of others, of his imprisonment in irons in the jail, and of his own intention to take him out. And he declared his belief that it was the desire of those assembled, that he should command them, and expressed his readiness to do so.
The response they gave showed their assent.
Then they must obey his orders.
They would, they said.
“The first is—absolute silence.”
“Yes, that’s right,” came from all sides.
“The second is, that we will release our friend, but take no other step—commit no other violence than that of breaking the doors and taking him out.”
“Oh, h—l! We’ll hang every d——d nigger and dog in the place,” broke in a voice near him. Steve wheeled around and faced the speaker. He was a man named Bushman, a turbulent fellow. As quick as thought the pistol that had been shining under Perdue’s nose a little before was gleaming before this man’s eyes.
“Step out and go home!” Steve pointed up the road.
The man began to growl.