, Dan Cowles. He thrust a revolver barrel into the
face of the nearest man, caught another by the shoulder. A halt, a
pause, whether of irresolution or of doubt, of indecision or of shame,
came like a falling and restraining hand upon all this lately demoniacal
assemblage. They did not move. It was as though a net had been sprung
above them all.

"Halt!" called out the voice of the sheriff, high and clear. "What are
you doing here?"

"It's the sher'f!" croaked one gray beard farther back. "God! what'll he
do to us now?"

The feeling of apprehension gave courage to some of the bolder. Two or
three sprang upon Cowles from behind and broke him down. He fell, his
revolver pulled from his hand. He looked up into faces that he knew.

"Make a move and you'll get it," said a hoarse, croaking voice above
him. "Shut up now and keep quiet, and keep to yourself what you seen.
We're just having a little surprise party, that's all. We're only
cleaning up this town."

But now another figure came running--more than one. Judge Henderson
himself had heard the tumult on the streets. It was he who first hurried
up to the edge of the crowd.

"Men!" he cried, holding up his hand. "What are you doing? Disperse, in
the name of the law! I command it!"

They had long been used to obeying the voice of Judge Henderson. He was
their guide, their counselor, their leader. Some hesitated now.

And then Judge Henderson pushed into the little group, looked over their
heads, their shoulders--and saw what ruin had been wrought in Aurora
Lane's little home. He saw Aurora standing there, outraged in every
fiber, desecrated in her very soul, the ruins of her lost sanctuary
lying all about her and on her face the last, last anguish of a woman
who has said farewell to all, everything--life, happiness, peace, hope,
and trust in God.

Henderson cast his own hands to his face as he pushed back from that
sight. He stood trembling and silent, unstrung by one swift, remorseless
blow from his own soul, his own long sleeping conscience.

Afar off, in the village, someone rang a bell--that at the engine house.
Its summons of alarm called out every townsman not already in the
streets.

But before this time reaction had begun in the mob. Something about
Judge Henderson--the sudden change in his attitude--the blanched terror,
the awful horror which showed now in his face--seemed to bring reason to
their own inflamed and muddled minds. And now, as they hesita