"It's about time for the _Signal_ to be out," said Coleman, looking at his watch. "Never is anything in it when it does come----My God! What was that?" The air was rent, torn to mere tatters of air, by a long blood-curdling yell, a yell which seemed to catch its breath with battle fierceness, and then come again. The two men rushed to the door of the bank. They beheld a scene of the wildest confusion. The square, which a moment before had been sunken in apathy, was now filled with terrific excitement. Men were running from every direction toward the post office, stumbling over yelping dogs, shouting, waving their arms as they ran. In front of the post office, in the yellow flare of the setting sun, Acres and Coleman beheld a scene which contained all the elements of dignity, rage, pathos, and comedy. Judge Regis stood with his silk hat perfectly level upon his head, his cane tucked under his arm, and he was looking over the spread sheet of the Jordantown _Signal_ very much as if he stared at an enemy over the top of an impregnable fortification. In front of him Colonel Marshall Adams pranced like an old bird kicking his wings. His hat and coat lay upon the pavement. His face was a red map of rage. He held a copy of the _Signal_ between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, and at arm's length, as if closer contact with it meant unbearable pollution. And as he trod his measure, his right fist shot out at regular intervals, each time nearer and nearer the Judge's nose, and with each motion the Colonel sent forth that ear-splitting yell which had not been heard in Jordantown since a Confederate regiment charged a Federal division there in 1864. Bob Sasnett was the first to reach the scene. He seized the Colonel around the waist from behind, dragging him back so that his red slippers turned up on the heels and showed the soles. "Look at him, gentlemen! That man has committed a crime!" the Colonel shouted to the gathering crowd as he shook an accusing finger at Regis. "A crime?" came an incredulous voice. Regis, calmly folding his paper, looked over the head of his accuser and addressed Sasnett. "Thank you, Sasnett, for saving his dignity. He was a brave soldier. We must never forget that," he said, lifting his hat impersonally to courage as he made his way out of the ring of staring faces. "Let me go, Bob!" screamed the Colonel, struggling. "Did you hear him? _Was_ a brave soldier. By Gad, what am I now? And this from a man who would destroy the sanctity of fair womanhood, and then barricades himself behind a newspaper when I demand shatisfaction." "What's the old boy talking about?" demanded Briggs, stretching his neck to get a view of the Colonel. "If you don't believe what I shay, though I dare any man to doubt my word, read that!" he cried, flinging the paper from him.