the yarbs. He ain't a well man, an never wuz, Zadkiel ain't. Ye
needn't let the gal in. It don' matter 's much about her, an gals is
cryin things. I'll scrub yer floor better'n she ever kin, an come to
look it doos kinder need it," and she turned her agonized eyes a
moment upon the floor in affected critical inspection.

"Cephas, see that crowd comin. What do they mean? Put them women out.
G'long there, git out, quick! Shut the door, Cephas. Put up the bar.
What ever's comin to us?"

Well might Mrs. Bement say so, for the sight that had caught her eyes
as she stood confronting the women and the open door, was no less an
one than a mass of nearly a thousand men and boys, bristling with
clubs and guns, rushing directly toward the jail.

Scarcely had the women been thrust out, and the white-faced Bement
dropped the bar into its sockets across the middle of the door, than
there was a rushing, tramping sound before the house, like the noise
of many waters, and a great hubbub of hoarse voices. Then came a heavy
blow, as if with the hilt of a sword against the door, and a loud
voiced called,

"Open, and be quick about it!"

"Don't do it, Cephas, the house is stout, and mebbe help'll come,"
said Mrs. Bement, although she trembled.

But Cephas, though generally like clay in the hands of his wife, was
at this instant dominated by a terror greater than his fear of her. He
lifted the bar from the sockets, and was instantly sent staggering