“Don’t let him speak!  Kill him!  Kill him!”

A score of men sprang to their feet and from all sides came the click of rifle and pistol hammers as they were drawn to the full cock.  The judge’s fate seemed to rest on a breath.  He swung about on his heel and gave a curt nod to Yancy and Cavendish, who, falling back a step, tossed their guns to their shoulders and covered Murrell.  A sudden hush grew up out of the tumult; the cries, angry and jeering, dwindled to a murmur, and a dead pall of silence rested on the crowded room.

The very taste of triumph was in the judge’s mouth.  Then came a commotion at the back of the building, a whispered ripple of comment, and Colonel Fentress elbowed his way through the crowd.  At sight of his enemy the judge’s face went from white to red, while his eyes blazed; but for the moment the force of his emotions left him speechless.  Here and there, as he advanced, Fentress recognized a friend and bowed coolly to the right and left.

“What does this ridiculous mockery mean?” he demanded harshly.  “Mr. Sheriff, as a member of the bar, I protest!  Why don’t you clear the building?” He did not wait for Betts to answer him, but continued.  “Where is this man Hues?”

“Yonder, Colonel, by the captain,” said Betts.

“I have a warrant for his arrest.  You will take him into custody.”

“Wait!” cried the judge.  “I represent Mr. Hues.  I desire to see that warrant!”

But Fentress ignored him.  He addressed the crowded benches.

“Gentlemen, it is a serious matter forcibly to seize a man without authority from the courts and expose him to the danger of mob violence—­Mr. Hues will learn this before we have done with him.”

Instantly there was a noisy demonstration that swelled into a burst of applause, which quickly spent itself.  The struggle seemed to have narrowed to an individual, contest for supremacy between Fentress and the judge.  On the edge of the railed off space they confronted each other:  the colonel, a tall, well-cared-for presence; the judge shabby and unkempt.  For a moment their eyes met, while the judge’s face purpled and paled, and purpled again.  The silence deepened.  Fentress’ thin lips opened, twitched, but no sound came from them; then his glance wavered and fell.  He turned away.

“Mr. Sheriff!” he called sharply.

“All right, Colonel!”

“Take your man into custody,” ordered Fentress.  As he spoke he handed the warrant to Betts, who looked at it, grinned, and stepped toward Hues.  He would have pushed the judge aside had not that gentleman, bowing civilly, made way for him.

“In my profound respect for the law and properly constituted authority I yield to no man, not even to Colonel Fentress,” he said, with a gracious gesture.  “I would not place the slightest obstacle in the way of its sanctioned manifestation.  Colonel Fentress comes here with that high sanction.”  He bowed again ceremoniously to the colonel.  “I repeat, I respect his dependence upon the law!” He whirled suddenly.