A nearly similar scene, with a corresponding conclusion, had been exhibited at Mr. Wallace’s. As soon as the people were gone, that gentleman determined to lose no time in communicating with Armstrong, as it was now evident that protection would be necessary if the people chose to gratify their passions by attending the funeral and subsequent meeting. Mr. Wallace was little disposed for sleep, and thought a moonlight walk would refresh him, and remembered that he should be his own safest messenger; so when all was silent, he set forth, telling his wife that he should be back within two hours, when he hoped to inform her that Armstrong was gone to bespeak the necessary assistance. It was just eleven when he reached the steps below Armstrong’s gate. As he climbed the gate, the dog barked, growled, and made ready for a spring. “How now, Keeper!” cried the master from within and his guest without, at the same moment. The dog knew Mr. Wallace’s voice, but was not sure enough of his man, muffled in a cloak as he was, to give over his alarm at once. He leaped and frisked about, still growling while the old man held forth a gleaming pistol in the moonlight from his lattice. “Stand off, or I’ll fire,” cried he. But when he heard “Do not be in a hurry to shoot your friend Wallace,” he was in greater alarm than before. He hastened to let in his guest, that he might hear what had happened. Mr. Wallace observed with some surprise that he had not called the old man from his bed. Armstrong had been sitting, with his labourer’s dress on, beside the table, where lay his open Bible, his pistols, his spectacles, and the lamp. Before the visitor had time to ask what kept his friend up so late, the housekeeper put her night-capped head into the room. “No thieves, Peg,” said her master, and the head withdrew; for Margaret did not see that she had any business with what brought Mr. Wallace there at so strange an hour. Her master was quite of her mind; for, when it was settled what he was to do, he tapped at her door and only said, “I am going out, and if I should not be back till dinner to-morrow, don’t be frightened. Keeper will take good care of you.” And then he set off to rouse the magistrates, while Mr. Wallace proceeded homewards, pausing now and then to hear whether all was quiet below, and watching how the twinkling lights went out (so much later than usual) one by one in the cottage windows. ---------------------------- CHAPTER VIII. UPROAR. Early the next morning a messenger came to the Joneses’ door to let them know that the funeral procession would form at the widow Fry’s, at eight o’clock, and that punctuality was particularly requested. Paul asked what this message meant, as nobody in that house was going to attend. The messenger was sorry for it. He had been ordered to give notice from house to house, and he believed almost every body meant to go.