“The learned counsel for the prosecution has seen fit to sneer at our belief in the higher law,” Hardaker went on, with body erect and hand upraised, his full, melodious, resonant voice filling the court room and the corridors and carrying his words even into the street. “I answer that that law has my entire allegiance and that I stand here to defend and uphold it and to demand the rights of those who feel bound, as I do, by its commands. I feel assured, and you well know, gentlemen of the jury, that I voice the sentiments of thousands upon thousands of Christ-loving and God-fearing men and women when I say that if any fleeing bondman comes to me in need of help, protection, and means of flight, so help me the living God in my hour of greatest need, he shall have them all, even to the last drop of my life’s blood!” Like the sudden upburst of a volcano, the court room broke into resounding applause. Men sprang to their feet, swung their hats and cheered. Women stood upon benches, waved handkerchiefs and clapped their hands. The rapping of the judge’s gavel and the cries of the officers for “order in the court” were drowned in the uproar and hardly reached even their own ears. Then the sharp insistence of hisses began to be heard. Jefferson Delavan, who had been listening with hands clenched, frowning brows and angry eyes, added his voice to the sounds of disapproval. For a few minutes the tumult continued, and then, at the judge’s order, the court officers began forcing the people out. They poured into the street and organized a mass-meeting in the square in front of the court house. Numbers of men came running from all directions and while the meeting was in progress word filtered out that the jury had found the prisoner guilty and the judge’s sentence had imposed a fine of one thousand dollars and costs and imprisonment for thirty days. Resolutions were at once passed denouncing the judge and deciding, “since the courts no longer dispensed justice,” to proceed to the jail, liberate the other prisoners and protect them from the operations of “an outrageously unjust and tyrannous enactment.” Delavan, looking on at the outskirts of the gathering, heard the resolutions. He knew that Rhoda would soon be conducted back to her quarters in the jail and he ran thither, hoping to arrive before the crowd of rescuers. In custody of the marshal she had just reached the jail entrance. “Rhoda!” he exclaimed. “You are in danger here! A mob is coming to break in the doors. Marshal, bring her with me, so we can find a place of safety for her.” She drew herself up and looked at him with the same pale face and brilliant eyes with which in the woods, so long ago, she had opposed his quest for his fugitive slave. Scarcely she seemed the same being who, only a few days before, had almost trembled into his embrace.