Some time later—­he had no idea of the hour save that all was dark—­he was awakened by a confusion of voices in the room below, a slamming of doors, a thumping of great boots upon the bare floor.  Scarcely remembering his whereabouts, he rolled from his bed and thrust his head out of the narrow window.  Here and there about the town were scattered lights—­some stationary, others, which he took to be lanterns, moving.  On the street beneath his window two men went by on a run.  Half way up the block, before the well-lighted front of a saloon, a motley crowd was shifting back and forth, restless as ants in a hill, the murmur of their voices sounding menacing as the distant hum of swarming bees.  All at once from out the door there burst fair into the crowd a heavy man with great shoulders and a bull neck.  About him, even in the uncertain light, there seemed to the watcher something very familiar.  What he said, Ben could not understand; but he turned his head this way and that, and his motions were unmistakable.  The crowd made way before him as sheep before a dog, and closing behind followed steadily in his wake.  Gradually as the leader advanced the mass gained momentum.  At first the pace had been a slow walk.  In the space of seconds it became a swift one, then a run, with a wild scramble by those in the rear to gain front place.  The frozen ground rumbled under their rushing feet.  The direction of their movement, at first uncertain, became definite.  It was a direct line for the centrally located court-house; and, no longer doubtful of their purpose, Ben left the window, fairly tumbled downstairs, and rushed through the now deserted office into the equally deserted street.

The court-house square was but two blocks away; but the mob had a good lead, and when the youth arrived he found the space within the surrounding chain fence fairly covered.  Where the people could all have come from struck him even at that moment as a mystery.  Certainly all told the town could not in itself have mustered half the number.  Elbowing his way among them, however, he began soon to understand.  Here and there among the mass he caught sight of familiar faces,—­Russell of the Circle R Ranch, Stetson of the “XI,” each taking no part, but with hats slouched low over their eyes watching every movement of the drama.  Passing around a jam he could not press through, Ben felt a detaining hand upon his arm, and turning, he was face to face with Grannis.  The grip of the overseer tightened.

“I’ve been looking for you, Blair,” he said, “I know what you’ve been trying to do, but most of the crowd don’t and won’t.  They’re ugly.  You’d better keep back.”

For answer Ben eyed the cowboy squarely.

“I thought I left you in charge of the ranch,” he said evenly.

The weather-stained face of the foreman reddened in the shifting lantern light, but the eyes did not drop.

“I have been.  I just got here.”  A dignity which well became him spoke in the steady voice.  “I had a reason for coming.”