go," he said, gruffly, and without a word to his men he
started off.

Jake followed him. Neuman made a short cut to the gate, thus avoiding a
meeting with any of his family. At the road, however, some men observed
him and called in surprise, but he waved them back.

"Bill, you an' Andy collect yourselves an' give Mr. Neuman a seat," said
Jake, as he opened the door to allow the farmer to enter.

The two cowboys gave Neuman the whole of the back seat, and they
occupied the smaller side seats. Jake took his place beside the driver.

"Burn her up!" was his order.

The speed of the car made conversation impossible until the limits of a
town necessitated slowing down. Then the cowboys talked. For all the
attention they paid to Neuman, he might as well not have been present.
Before long the driver turned into a road that followed a railroad track
for several miles and then crossed it to enter a good-sized town. The
streets were crowded with people and the car had to be driven slowly. At
this juncture Jake suggested.

"Let's go down by the bridge."

"Sure," agreed his allies.

Then the driver turned down a still more peopled street that sloped a
little and evidently overlooked the railroad tracks. Presently they came
in sight of a railroad bridge, around which there appeared to be an
excited yet awestruck throng. All faces were turned up toward the
swaying form of a man hanging by a rope tied to the high span of the
bridge.

"Wal, Glidden's hangin' there yet," remarked Jake, cheerfully.

With a violent start Neuman looked out to see the ghastly placarded
figure, and then he sank slowly back in his seat. The cowboys apparently
took no notice of him. They seemed to have forgotten his presence.

"Funny they'd cut all the other I.W.W.'s down an' leave Glidden hangin'
there," observed Bill.

"Them vigilantes sure did it up brown," added Andy. "I was dyin' to join
the band. But they didn't ask me."

"Nor me," replied Jake, regretfully. "An' I can't understand why, onless
it was they was afeared I couldn't keep a secret."

"Who is them vigilantes, anyhow?" asked Bill, curiously.

"Wal, I reckon nobody knows. But I seen a thousand armed men this
mornin'. They sure looked bad. You ought to have seen them poke the
I.W.W.'s with cocked guns."

"Was any one shot?" queried Andy.

"Not in the daytime. Nobody killed by this Citizens' Protective League,
as they call themselves. They just rounded up all the suspicious men