ere a tall,
bareheaded man stood, almost in a careless attitude. The mob was masked;
there was not a face visible.

"Out with the keys, Bill!" jeered a man in the rear; "we mean business!"

The speaker had mistaken John for the jailer.

"Bill--hell!" growled another, nearer the front. "That's the new doc,
but whut the damn fool's doin' here I don't know!"

Glenning had not said a word, nor had he shifted his position. But his
most searching scrutiny had failed to reveal the presence of a single
weapon among the besiegers.

"On! On!" cried some one in the rear. "Ain't there enough of us to 'tend
to that feller?"

They began pushing, and the mob surged closer. Those nearest the
platform were within a dozen feet of the solitary watcher now, but there
was no menace in their attitude. Glenning had been sharply viewing the
_personnel_ of this mass of men, and from apparel, bearing, and general
appearance he judged most of them to be of the rougher element. The
three or four in front, who were evidently the leaders, may have been
gentlemen. It was to these Glenning now spoke.

"Good evening," he said, pleasantly, "Perhaps I know you and perhaps I
don't, for you have seen fit to hide your faces. You have come after
Hank."

His accents were deliberate, and he appeared as much at ease as if he
were chatting with friends in his own home. His last sentence was not a
question, but a declaration.

"Yes, we've come after Hank 'n' we're goin' to git 'im!" came a rough
voice from one side.

A leader turned.

"Keep still, will you?" Then to Glenning. "May I ask by what authority
you take your place there with two loaded pistols? Are you a sworn
deputy, or officer of any sort?"

"I am not, as you well know, and I have no authority, other than a
strong feeling for fair play. May I, in turn, ask by what authority you
come at dead of night to defy the laws of your State, and seek to place
a crime upon your soul?"

"We have the law of might, and that's enough. Stand aside now, or take
the consequences!"

The man was deeply in earnest.

"Had it not struck you that you were talking to the wrong man?" asked
Glenning. "Do you want to enter this place? Then the jailer is the man
you want to see. What's the use of battering these doors down and
arousing the town when you _might_ get the keys from him, and _maybe_
get in quietly? You need some one to lead you, men. What good is it to
stand dickering with me? Rouse the jailer! He