The moment had come. That fact took precedence of every other impression, and annulled all the previous careful preparation. There was an instant rush toward the ladder, and the floor quaked beneath the swift but heavy feet. A voice checked the advance, that was like a rout in its wild, unreasoning motive power:— “The fust man ez steps a foot on that thar rung, I’ll let the light through him!” There was a sharp, decisive click, and the lynchers knew that Teck Jepson had cocked the pistol, which he wore no longer in his belt, but held in his right hand, as he stood beside the aperture in the floor. A momentary hovering about it, a sound of quick, excited panting, and the massive figures fell back a little. “Whyn’t ye say who air ter go fust, then?” exclaimed Bassett, in angry reproach. “Ye air too durned sot in yer way ter live, Teck Jepson. Ef we war right smart, we’d hang ye a leetle before we set out ter settle them t’ other men.” “Don’t quar’l, boys,—don’t quar’l,” urged the paternal peace-maker. “Teck knows jes’ what we’d bes’ do.” There was scarcely a murmur of dissent to this, for the usurper is more imposing than he who wields delegated authority, in that his supremacy is the trophy and the triumph of his own bow and spear. These wild and lawless men might hardly have accorded so ready an obedience to Teck Jepson’s mandate, had his power been conferred by the State of Tennessee. “Ye’ll stay right hyar till ye air wanted,” he said despotically. “I be goin’ ter take one man an’ go down ter see what they air a-doin’ of. Ef I fire my pistol, ye kin come, the whole bilin’ of ye, ez hard ez ye kin travel. Me an’ one man will go fust.” “I be that man!” cried Clem Sanders turbulently. Jepson could hardly say him nay, since he was the first to volunteer. But his objection showed very plainly in his eyes, and the blacksmith sturdily responded to it. “It’s _my_ forge!” He protested his special interest. “Laws-a-massy, yes! an’ it’s _yer_ leetle tongs, too!” sneered Jepson, with the scorn of one who cares little for material possessions, as he took his way down the ladder. Clem followed, and as the two emerged from the shadowy barn upon the frost-whitened sward below and into the full splendor of the moonlight, they were conscious of the eyes that pursued them from the window above. Once Jepson turned his head and glanced over his shoulder. It was not a reassuring sight, even to one whom it in no manner threatened,—that broad, low window of the simple log-barn, filled with the bearded, eager faces of silent armed men, some half crouching, others standing that they might look over the shoulders of those in front. Behind them all was visible, the hay piled to the roof, here silver skeins in the light, and again full of shadows and indefinite suggestions of depth.