ortion of those who made up the
crowd of Green's angry pursuers were excited by drink as well as
indignation, and I am very sure that, but for the maddening effects of
liquor, the fatal shot would never have been fired. After the fearful
catastrophe, and when every mind was sobered, or ought to have been
sobered, the crowd returned to the bar-room, where the drinking was
renewed. So rapid were the calls for liquor, that both Matthew and
Frank, the landlord's son, were kept busy mixing the various compounds
demanded by the thirsty customers.

From the constant stream of human beings that flowed toward the "Sickle
and Sheaf," after the news of Green's discovery and death went forth,
it seemed as if every man and boy within a distance of two or three
miles had received intelligence of the event. Few, very, of those who
came, but went first into the bar-room; and nearly all who entered the
bar-room called for liquor. In an hour after the death of Green, the
fact that his dead body was laid out in the room immediately adjoining,
seemed utterly to pass from the consciousness of every one in the bar.
The calls for liquor were incessant; and, as the excitement of drink
increased, voices grew louder, and oaths more plentiful, while the
sounds of laughter ceased not for an instant.

"They're giving him a regular Irish wake," I heard remarked, with a
brutal laugh.

I turned to the speaker, and, to my great surprise, saw that it was
Judge Lyman, more under the influence of drink than I remembered to
have seen him. He was about the last man I expected to find here. If he
knew of the strong indignation expressed toward him a little while
before, by some of the very men now excited with liquor, his own free
drinking had extinguished fear.

"Yes, curse him!" was the answer. "If they have a particularly hot
corner 'away down below,' I hope he's made its acquaintance before
this."

"Most likely he's smelled brimstone," chuckled the judge.

"Smelled it! If old Clubfoot hasn't treated him with a brimstone-bath
long before this, he hasn't done his duty. If I thought as much, I'd
vote for sending his majesty a remonstrance forthwith."

"Ha! ha!" laughed the judge. "You're warm on the subject."

"Ain't I? The blackleg scoundrel! Hell's too good for him."

"H-u-s-h! Don't let your indignation run into profanity," said Judge
Lyman, trying to assume a serious air; but the muscles of his face but
feebly obeyed his will's feeble effort.