The sheriff's eyes flashed, and the blood sprang to his face. The crowd stood eagerly silent; but after a second the sheriff answered, quietly,
“You may say what you please to me, Mr. Morris, and I'll not resent it under these circumstances, but I'll swear the jail's empty.”
For answer Morris drove an axe furiously against the nearest cell door, and the crowd followed suit. There were not many cells, and as he looked from a window the sheriff counted the doors as they fell in, and listened for the whistle of the train that he hoped would bring Judge More. The doors were going down rapidly, and as each yielded the sheriff could hear cries and demonstrations. What would they do when the last one fell?
Presently Doty Buxton, who had been making observations, came in, pale and excited. “You'd better git yo' pistols,” he said, “an' I'll git mine, for they're gittin' madder an' madder every time he ain't there.”
“Well,” the sheriff answered, “I want you to witness that I ain't armed. My pistols are over there on the table, unloaded. Thank the good Lord!” he exclaimed, suddenly; “there's the train, an' Judge More! I hope he'll come right along.”
“An' there goes the last do'!” said Doty, as, after a crash and a momentary silence, oaths and ejaculations filled the air. He drew near the sheriff, but the sheriff moved away.
“Stand back,” he said; “you've got little children.”
In an instant the crowd rushed in, headed by Morris, whose burning eyes seemed to be starting from his drawn white face. Like a flash Doty sprang forward and wrenched an axe from the infuriated man, crying out, “Partin ain't armed!”
For answer a blow from Morris's fist dropped the sheriff like a dead man. A sudden silence fell, and Morris, standing over his fallen foe, looked about him as if dazed. For an instant he stood so, then with a violent movement he pushed back the crowding men, and lifting the sheriff, dragged him toward the open window.
“Give him air,” he ordered, “and go for the doctor, and for cold water!” He laid Partin flat and dragged open his collar. “He's not dead—see there; I struck him on the temple; under the ear would have killed him, but not this, not this! Give me that water, and plenty of it, and move back. He's not dead, no; and I didn't mean to kill him; but he has worked against me all night, and I didn't think a white man would do it.”