But the people murmured. The Great Barrington men did not know Perez,
and were not ready to accept his dictation.

"We've stopped court to-day, sartin," said one, "but wot's to hender
they're holden of it to-morrer, or ez soon's we be gone, an hevin
every one on us in jail?"

"What do you want, then?" asked Perez.

"We want some sartainty baout it."

"They've got tew 'gree not ter hold no more courts till the laws be
changed," were replies that seemed to voice the sentiments of the
crowd.

"Leave it to me, and I'll get you what you want," said Perez, and he
went down the corridor to the kitchen at the back of the house, where
the sheriff had told him he would find the justices. Although the room
had been apparently chosen because it was the farthest removed from
the public, the mob had already found out their retreat, and a nose
was flattened against each pane of the windows. Tall men peered in
over short men's shoulders, and cudgels were displayed in a way not at
all reassuring to the inmates.

Their honors by no means wore the unruffled and remotely superior
aspect of a few minutes before. It must be frankly confessed, as
regards the honorable Justices Goodrich of Pittsfield, Barker of
Cheshire, and Whiting of Great Barrington, that they looked decidedly
scared, as in fact, they had some right to be. It might have been
supposed, indeed, that the valor of the entire quorum had gone into