and it sounded husky. "What is it, Wiley?"

"Judge, what time did Mr. Harkless leave here last night and which way
did he go?"

There was a silence. The judge turned away from the window. Minnie was
standing just outside his door. "It must have been about half-past nine,
wasn't it, father?" she called in a shaking voice. "And, you know, Helen
thought he went west."

"Wiley!" The old man leaned from the sill again.

"Yes!" answered the man on horseback.

"Wiley, he left about half-past nine--just before the storm. They think
he went west."

"Much obliged. Willetts is so upset he isn't sure of anything."

"Wiley!" The old man's voice shook; Minnie began to cry aloud. The
horseman wheeled about and turned his animal's head toward town.
"Wiley!"

"Yes."

"Wiley, they haven't--you don't think they've got him?"

"By God, judge," said the man on horseback, "I'm afraid they have!"

CHAPTER X. THE COURT-HOUSE BELL

The court-house bell ringing in the night! No hesitating stroke of
Schofields' Henry, no uncertain touch, was on the rope. A loud, wild,
hurried clamor pealing out to wake the country-side, a rapid _clang!
clang! clang!_ that struck clear in to the spine.

The court-house bell had tolled for the death of Morton, of Garfield, of
Hendricks; had rung joy-peals of peace after the war and after political
campaigns; but it had rung as it was ringing now only three times; once
when Hibbard's mill burned, once when Webb Landis killed Sep Bardlock
and intrenched himself in the lumber-yard and would not be taken till he
was shot through and through, and once when the Rouen accommodation was
wrecked within twenty yards of the station.

Why was the bell ringing now? Men and women, startled into wide
wakefulness, groped to windows--no red mist hung over town or country.
What was it? The bell rang on. Its loud alarm beat increasingly into
men's hearts and quickened their throbbing to the rapid measure of
its own. Vague forms loomed in the gloaming. A horse, wildly ridden,
splashed through the town. There were shouts; voices called hoarsely.
Lamps began to gleam in the windows. Half-clad people emerged from their
houses, men slapping their braces on their shoulders as they ran out of
doors. Questions were shouted into the dimness.

Then the news went over the town.

It was cried from yard to yard, from group to group, from gate to gate,
and reached the furthermost confines. Runners shouted it as they sped