y of a Sunday,
you may know that hell is going to crack shortly."

For some time the armed men stood rigid, four deep all around the
square. Behind them the masses of the people watched. Then at a command
the ranks fell apart and from the side-streets marched the sixty men
chosen by Olney, dragging a field gun at the end of a rope. This they
wheeled into position in the square and pointed it at the door of the
jail. Quite deliberately, the cannon was loaded with powder and balls. A
man lit a slow match, blew it to a glow, and took his position at the
breech. Nothing then happened for a full ten minutes. The six men stood
rigid by the gun in the middle of the square. The sunlight gleamed from
the ranks of bayonets. The vast multitude held its breath. The wall of
the jail remained blank and inscrutable.

Then a man on horseback was seen to make his way through the crowd. This
was Charles Doane, Grand Marshal of the Vigilantes. He rode directly to
the jail door, on which he rapped with the handle of his riding-whip.
After a moment the wicket in the door opened. Without dismounting, the
rider handed a note within, and then, backing his horse the length of
the square, came to rest.

Again the ranks parted and closed, this time to admit of three
carriages. As they came to a stop, the muskets all around the square
leaped to "present arms!" From the carriages descended Coleman, Truett,
and several others. In dead silence they walked to the jail door,
Olney's men close at their heels. For some moments they spoke through
the wicket; then the door swung open and the Committee entered.

Up to this moment Casey had been fully content with the situation. He
was, of course, treated to the best the jail or the city could afford.
It was a bother to have been forced to shoot James King of William; but
the nuisance of incarceration for a time was a small price to pay. His
friends had rallied well to his defense. He had no doubt whatever, that,
according to the usual custom, he would soon work his way through the
courts and stand again a free man. His first intimation of trouble was
the hearing of the resonant tramp of feet outside. His second was when
Sheriff Scannell stood before him with the Vigilantes' note in his hand.
Casey took one glance at Scannell's face.

"You aren't going to betray me?" he cried. "You aren't going to give me
up?"

"James," replied Scannell solemnly, "there are three thousand armed men
coming for you and