Davies rode among the company a prey to mingled and singular feelings. He was very much excited and yet depressed by the character of the crowd which, in so far as he could see, was largely impelled to its jaunt by curiosity and yet also able under sufficient motivation on the part of some one--any one, really--to kill too. There was not so much daring as a desire to gain daring from others, an unconscious wish or impulse to organize the total strength or will of those present into one strength or one will, sufficient to overcome the sheriff and inflict death upon his charge. It was strange--almost intellectually incomprehensible--and yet so it was. The men were plainly afraid of the determined sheriff. They thought something ought to be done, but they did not feel like getting into trouble. Mathews, a large solemn, sage, brown man in worn clothes and a faded brown hat, contemplated the recent addition to his trailers with apparent indifference. Seemingly he was determined to protect his man and avoid mob justice, come what may. A mob should not have him if he had to shoot, and if he shot it would be to kill. Finally, since the company thus added to did not dash upon him, he seemingly decided to scare them off. Apparently he thought he could do this, since they trailed like calves. “Stop a minute!” he called to his driver. The latter pulled up. So did the crowd behind. Then the sheriff stood over the prostrate body of the negro, who lay in the jolting wagon beneath him, and called back: “Go ’way from here, you people! Go on, now! I won’t have you follerin’ after me!” “Give us the nigger!” yelled one in a half-bantering, half-derisive tone of voice. “I’ll give ye just two minutes to go on back out o’ this road,” returned the sheriff grimly, pulling out his watch and looking at it. They were about a hundred feet apart. “If you don’t, I’ll clear you out!” “Give us the nigger!” “I know you, Scott,” answered Mathews, recognizing the voice. “I’ll arrest every last one of ye to-morrow. Mark my word!” The company listened in silence, the horses champing and twisting. “We’ve got a right to foller,” answered one of the men. “I give ye fair warning,” said the sheriff, jumping from his wagon and leveling his pistols as he approached. “When I count five I’ll begin to shoot!” He was a serious and stalwart figure as he approached, and the crowd fell back a little. “Git out o’ this now!” he yelled. “One--Two----” The company turned completely and retreated, Davies among them. “We’ll foller him when he gits further on,” said one of the men in explanation. “He’s got to do it,” said another. “Let him git a little ways ahead.”