There was a rush toward the southwest corner of the Plaza, so sudden that the hapless prisoner was jerked off his feet and dragged over the ground. When the improvised gallows was reached he was half strangled, could not stand. Several men supported him while others tossed the rope across the beam. Then, with a shout, he was jerked from his feet into space. His dangling figure jerked convulsively for a time, hung limp. * * * * * After the inquest Brannan met William Coleman at Vigilante headquarters. "They were very hostile," he declared; "the political gang is hot on our trail. They questioned me as to the names on our committee. I told them we went by numbers only," he laughed. "There have been threats, veiled and open," said Coleman, soberly. "King has lost several good banking accounts and my business has fallen off noticeably. Friends have advised me to quit the committee--or worse things might happen." Brannan took a folded paper from his pocket; it was a printed scrawl unsigned, which read: "Beware; or your house will be burned. We mean business." A newsboy hurried down the street crying an extra on the inquest. Brannan snatched one from his hand and the two men perused it eagerly. The finding, couched in usual verbiage, recited the obvious facts that Jenkins, alias Simpson, perished by strangulation and that "an association of citizens styling themselves a Committee of Vigilance," was responsible. "Eight of us are implicated, besides myself," said Brannan finally, "they'll start proceedings probably at once." "And they'll have the courts to back their dirty work," added Coleman, thoughtfully. "That will never do," his teeth shut with a little click. "I'm going to the _Herald_ office." "What for?" asked Brannan, quickly. "To publish the full list of names," Coleman responded. "We're all in this together; no group must bear the brunt." "But," objected Brannan, "is that wise?" "Of course.... in union there is strength. These crooks will hesitate to fight two hundred leading citizens; if they know them all they can't pick out a few for persecution." "Well, I'll go along," said Brannan. "Eh, what's that? What's happened now?" The Monumental engine bell was tolling violently. Coleman listened. "Its not a fire," he declared, "it's the Vigilante signal. We'll wait here." A man came running toward them from the bay. "They've captured James Stuart," he shouted. "Bludgeoned a captain on his ship but the man's wife held on to him and yelled till rescue came." "But Stuart's in the Auburn jail, awaiting execution for the murder of the sheriff," Coleman said bewildered. "No," cried the man, "this is the real one. The other's Tom Berdue, his double." "Then there'll be another hanging," Coleman muttered. CHAPTER XXXV THE PEOPLE AND THE LAW