There was an angry roar from the
crowd; the prosecutor pleaded and threatened unheeded; and as for the
deputy sheriff, he declared his intention of taking with him all who
wished to go as his posse. Eph Watts succeeded in making himself heard
above the tumult.
"The Square!" he shouted. "Start from the Square. We want everybody, and
we'll need them. We want every one in Carlow to be implicated in this
posse."
"They will be!" shouted a farmer. "Don't you worry about that."
"We want to get into some sort of shape," cried Eph.
"Shape, hell!" said Hartley Bowlder.
There was a hiss and clang and rattle behind him, and a steam whistle
shrieked. The crowd divided, and Hartley's sorrel jumped just in time as
the westbound accommodation rushed through on its way to Rouen. From the
rear platform leaned the sheriff, Horner, waving his hands frantically as
he flew by, but no one understood--or cared--what he said, or, in the
general excitement, even wondered why he was leaving the scene of his duty
at such a time. When the train had dwindled to a dot and disappeared, and
the noise of its rush grew faint, the court-house bell was heard ringing,
and the mob was piling pell-mell into the village to form on the Square.
The judge stood alone on the embankment.
"That settles it," he said aloud, gloomily, watching the last figures.
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