Neither of the men could give her any satisfaction, and so she ran into the parlour and peeped through the blinds of a window that commanded a view of the piazza. Almost instantly she came running back again, pretended amazement in her eyes. "I know who it is!" she said in a tragic whisper. "It's my wild Injun-rubber man, and, oh, my goodness! he looks vigorous and vexified! Where shall we hide?" As a matter of fact, it had been such a long time since the knocker had been used that a big fat spider had spun a silken arbour there. Old Jonas hesitated so long about responding that Lucindy, who had heard the noise in the kitchen, put her head in the back door, with the query: "Did any er you-all turn loose a gun in dar? Seem like I sho heern a gun go off!" Lucindy's voice seemed to have a reassuring effect on old Jonas, for he brushed some dust specks from the front of his coat, straightened himself, and started for the front door which was the centre of the disturbance. As he made his way along the hall, Mr. Sanders, in obedience to an imperious gesture from Adelaide, disappeared behind a huge rocker, while the child concealed herself behind the door. Mr. Sanders took off his hat, whipped out his red silk handkerchief, threw it over his head and tied it under his chin. Adelaide had a partial view of her Bishop, and the sight she saw seemed to be too much for her: she gave a gasp, and sank to the floor as though in great pain. They heard old Jonas urging the visitor to come in, while the other protested that he only wanted to say a word to Mr. Sanders, which could be said at the door as well, if not better, than anywhere else. Old Jonas called Mr. Sanders, but no one answered him. Then Adelaide and her Bishop heard old Jonas and the visitor coming along the hallway. "I don't want to trouble you at all, Mr. Whipple. They told me at the tavern that Mr. Sanders was here, and I just wanted to put a flea in his ear about a little matter." "Well, just come right in," responded old Jonas, cordially. "Sanders!" he called. Adelaide ventured to glance at Mr. Sanders again, and this time she could not restrain herself. She gave utterance to an ear-piercing shriek, which was more than sustained by a blood-curdling yell from Mr. Sanders! PART IV And now, good comrades, what shall it be, A dungeon cell or a gallows tree? --_Varner's Lynching Songs._