FullReads

The sounds of a harp and a violin played in the nearest saloon struggled up to them with the opening and shutting of its swinging baize inner doors. There was boisterous chanting from certain belated revelers in the next street which had no such remission. The brawling of the stream below seemed to be echoed in the uneasy streets; the quiet of the old days had departed with the sedate, encompassing woods that no longer fringed the river bank; the restful calm of Nature had receded before the dusty outskirts of the town.

“It’s mighty unfortunate, too,” said Brace moodily, “that Shuttleworth and Saunders, who haven’t been in the place since their row, have come over from Fiddletown to-day, and are banging around town. They haven’t said anything that I know of, but their PRESENCE is quite enough to revive the old feeling against her shop. The Committee,” he added bitterly, “will be sure to say that not only the first gambling, but the first shooting in Buckeye took place there. If they get up that story again–no matter how quiet SHE has become since–no matter what YOU may say as mayor–it will go hard with her. What’s that now?”

They listened breathlessly. Above the brawling of the river, the twanging of the harp-player, and the receding shouts of the revelers, they could hear the hollow wooden sidewalks resounding with the dull, monotonous trampling of closely following feet. Parks rose with a white face.

“Brace!”

“Yes!”

“Will you stand by me–and HER?”

“Stand by YOU AND HER? Eh? What? Good God! Parks!–you don’t mean to say you–it’s gone as far as THAT?”

“Will you or won’t you?”

The sound of the trampling had changed to a shuffling on the pavement below, and then footsteps began to ascend the stairs.

Brace held out his hand quickly and grasped that of Parks as the door opened to half a dozen men. They were evidently the ringleaders of the crowd below. There was no hesitation or doubt in their manner; the unswerving directness which always characterized those illegal demonstrations lent it something of dignity. Nevertheless, Carpenter, the spokesman, flushed slightly before Parks’ white, determined face.

“Come, Parks, you know what we’re after,” he said bluntly. “We didn’t come here to parley. We knew YOUR sentiments and what YOU think is your duty. We know what we consider OURS–and so do you. But we’re here to give you a chance, either as mayor, or, if you prefer it, as the oldest citizen here, to take a hand in our business to-night. We’re not ashamed of what we’re going to do, and we’re willing to abide by it; so there’s no reason why we shouldn’t speak aboveboard of it to you. We even invite you to take part in our last ‘call’ tonight at the Hall.”

“Go!” whispered Brace quickly, “YOU’LL GAIN TIME!”

Parks’ face changed, and he turned to Carpenter. “Enough,” he said gravely. “I reserve what I have to say of these proceedings till I join you there.” He stopped, whispered a few words to Brace, and then disappeared as the men descended the stairs, and, joining the crowd on the pavement, proceeded silently towards the Town Hall. There was nothing in the appearance of that decorous procession to indicate its unlawful character or the recklessness with which it was charged.

There were thirty or forty men already seated in the Hall. The meeting was brief and to the point. The gambling saloons were to be “cleaned out” that night, the tables and appliances thrown into the street and burnt, the doors closed, and the gamblers were to be conducted to the outskirts of the town and forbidden to enter it again on pain of death.

“Does this yer refer to Jovita Mendez’ saloon?” asked a voice.

To their surprise the voice was not Parks’ but Shuttleworth’s. It was also a matter to be noted that he stood a little forward of the crowd, and that there was a corresponding movement of a dozen or more men from Fiddletown who apparently were part of the meeting.