. He would have welcomed
a storm. He would have been glad had the rain come driving its tiny
fists in his face; had the vivid lightning staggered athwart the sky;
had thunderbolts shivered the earth about him; had the demons of storm
torn at the writhing trees. These things would have brought relief. He
was keyed for strife, and the musical water, the calm starlight and the
soft warm breeze maddened him. He pocketed his pipe with a gesture of
annoyance and swung about in his tracks. A long walk lay before him, and
he was glad. But action failed to bring relief. As he passed the Dudley
home his breast was surging with unconquerable feelings. He felt that he
was capable in that hour of leading a forlorn hope in battle. It was
near midnight when he reached the edge of town. Presently he overtook a
pedestrian, but he passed him without a sidelong glance. Further on he
passed another. At a bisecting street he saw a group, and as he went by
them he noticed that they wore masks. His mind took a revolution and
came back to the topic of the day. What did these sinister preparations
mean in the dead of night? Had Goodloe died? Were these his avengers?
Mob law was no new thing in Kentucky. Were these men massing to wreak a
summary and swift vengeance upon the marshal's slayer? A sudden idea
struck Glenning, and with it a species of wild joy. He turned up his
coat collar, drew his hat over his eyes, and hurried on. He passed other
men, all masked, but no one spoke to him or tried to intercept him.
Directly he broke into a run, and in a few moments was at the jail, and
thundering on the panels of the door with his fist. The jailer must have
been up, for he answered the summons at once, fully dressed. Evidently
he expected trouble, for he was pale with fright, which he made no
effort to hide, and he was trembling.

"Quick!" said Glenning. "They're coming! Arm yourself!"

The man stood shaking in the doorway, but did not answer. John grasped
him by the shoulder, and spoke again.

"Don't you hear? They're coming for your prisoner to hang him! Protect
him! Get your pistol and guard the jail!"

"Who?--What?" stammered the terrified man.

"The mob! I've seen them gathering! You've no time to lose!"

"I'll give 'em the keys if they ask me for 'em!" exclaimed the jailer.
"They'd shoot me if I didn't!"

"You're sworn to duty!" expostulated John. "Don't let them murder this
fellow. Has Goodloe died?"

"I don't know--but they can have