“You are insolent!” exclaimed the judge, his face becoming inflamed.

“Take care what you say, sir!” The man spoke threateningly.

“You’d better take care what you say.”

“So I will,” replied the other.  “But—­”

“What’s to pay here?” inquired a third party, coming up at the moment, and interrupting the speaker.

“The devil will be to pay,” said Judge Lyman, “if somebody don’t look out sharp.”

“Do you mean that for me, ha?” The man, between whom and himself this slight contention had so quickly sprung up, began stripping back his coat sleeves, like one about to commence boxing.

“I mean it for anybody who presumes to offer me an insult.”

The raised voices of the two men now drew toward them the attention of every one in the bar-room.

“The devil!  There’s Judge Lyman!” I heard some one exclaim, in a tone of surprise.

“Wasn’t he in the room with Green when Willy Hammond was murdered?” asked another.

“Yes, he was; and what’s more, it is said he had been playing against him all night, he and Green sharing the plunder.”

This last remark came distinctly to the ears of Lyman, who started to his feet instantly, exclaiming fiercely: 

“Whoever says that is a cursed liar!”

The words were scarcely out of his mouth, before a blow staggered him against the wall, near which he was standing.  Another blow felled him, and then his assailant sprang over his prostrate body, kicking him, and stamping upon his face and breast in the most brutal, shocking manner.

“Kill him!  He’s worse than Green!” somebody cried out, in a voice so full of cruelty and murder that it made my blood curdle.  “Remember Willy Hammond!”

The terrible scene that followed, in which were heard a confused mingling of blows, cries, yells, and horrible oaths, continued for several minutes, and ceased only when the words—­“Don’t, don’t strike him any more!  He’s dead!” were repeated several times.  Then the wild strife subsided.  As the crowd parted from around the body of Judge Lyman, and gave way, I caught a single glance at his face.  It was covered with blood, and every feature seemed to have been literally trampled down, until all was a level surface!  Sickened at the sight, I passed hastily from the room into the open air, and caught my breath several times, before respiration again went on freely.  As I stood in front of the tavern, the body of Judge Lyman was borne out by three or four men, and carried off in the direction of his dwelling.

“Is he dead?” I inquired of those who had him in charge.

“No,” was the answer.  “He’s not dead, but terribly beaten,” and they passed on.

Again the loud voices of men in angry strife arose in the bar-room.  I did not return there to learn the cause, or to witness the fiend-like conduct of the men, all whose worst passions were stimulated by drink into the wildest fervor.  As I was entering my room, the thought flashed through my mind that, as Green was found there, it needed only the bare suggestion that I had aided in his concealment, to direct toward me the insane fury of the drunken mob.