Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 126: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

116 boisterous howls and cheers, but the more sober citizens observed the by- play with disapproval and noted anxi- ously that the crowd was drifting into a dangerous mood which might easily lead to developments beyond the con- trol of the authorities. Red Jukes headed a parade, with fifes and drums, and marched up to the mill and back to the southern extremity of the town, then countermarched to the starting point and began another round of speeches. Ira Kemp was an experienced and fairly capable peace officer, and while he failed to interfere with the proceed- ings, he betrayed his estimate of the developments by visiting the jail and directing the guards to nail planks and timbers across the inside of the front door. It was a reasonable and justifiable precaution, but the noise of the ham- mering attracted the attention of the crowd and aggravated the situation. Little Joab Taney feared for the windows and recently painted facade of the hotel, and set up drinks for the committee, of which Red Jukes was the chairman. The committee recipro- cated with another round of strong waters in honor of the hospitable inn- keeper, and then the chairman was in- spired to make another speech. “ What’s the good o’ this meetin’ ?” he demanded of the crowd. “ What’s the good of all my talk and everybody else’s talk, if we don’t do nothin’? “ T know what’s goin’ to happen, an’ so do you all. The worst, low-down, ornery bums that every disgraced the good name o’ this fine town are goin’ over to Santa Fe, an’ we'll never see ’em again. ‘They may get hung, an’ they may not. Th’ judge over there don’t known ’em as we do, an’ they’re both of ’em slick talkers. Mebbe they might get off on self-defense, mebbe they'll get some slick lawyers to talk for ‘em. “What I’m gettin’ at is: we got ’em right here now, an’ we know well ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. enough what ought to be done to ‘em. You can’t see ’em, but they’re right up there behind that lil ol’ winder up there. “That cock-eyed sheriff from up- country has gone an’ boarded up the door, but what’s that to us? Yer can nail up boards, an’ yer can knock ’em down again, can’t yer? Well, friends—” The success of the oration was ap- parent before the chairman could end it. A score of the more daring men in the crowd began to yell, drowning the voice of the chairman, and they moved boldly against the barricaded door and ripped up some loosened planks from the sidewalk to use as wrecking tools. A rifle was poked through the bars of a front window, and a shot whistled over the heads of the crowd. The action was not unexpected, and cheers and catcalls greeted it, but the men with the planks fell back discreet- ly. <A definite gesture had been made, and they were content to wait for more speeches and a higher tide of senti- ment. “We may not go to Santa Fe,” re- marked Norman Trent significantly, as he and Ronald sat listening to the sounds of the demonstration. CHAPTER XI. THE UNINVITED GUEST. HE, jail was in a state of siege in the evening. Sheriff Kemp had extra guards ready to resist an assault in force, and sharpshooters sta- tioned on the roof to keep men of the mob from coming over the roofs of the adjoining buildings. He brought Althea Lane into the cell where Norman and Ronald were, con- centrating his prisoners. “Can’t tell what will happen,” he. said anxiously, but with official gravity. “Tf those fellers do get inside the building, we can hold them out of this room a long time.” Gomichooks (E©)