"Wait, Frank," came a voice. "Let me out on the front, so I can hold a gun on these niggers. Now come ahead. Now, niggers, the first one that makes a break, remember, out goes his light, bingo!" "Mary, oh, Mary, bring me my coat and hat." Wyeth was dressed now and peeping out the window. Yes, it was John Moore, and he wanted his coat and hat. He was going away, on a journey. The Mis', very much frightened, hurried forward, and held them out to him. He placed the hat on his head, and took the coat on his arm. He wore cuffs, so that made a difference. The Mis' fell into the room a moment later, and gave up to silent anguish. It was not the first time she had witnessed a raid. Sometimes Wyeth felt sorry for her. For, once upon a time she had been a good woman, she was yet when she could be. At least she was always kind; but when liquor was voted out of the state some years before, he, her husband then, took up the sale of it, contrary to the law. He had been caught once, and then twice. He had then been caught the third time. The third time is when you go to the mines. You may never return from these places, so 'tis said. "They kill you out there," is what John Moore had told him once, grimly. "Yes, they _kill_ you out there. It's _Hell_!" They killed the Mis's husband. And she had a son, and he sold liquor too. He was a dissipated youth. The mines had him six months. They gave him back to her. T.B. He died. And at this time she mourned his loss. She was now alone in the world. She had, at first, made an honest living, and was a member of the A.M.E. church. She became acquainted with John Moore. Well, they turned her out of church some time afterward. They would have done so sooner, but she was pitied, and black people have sympathy--even for criminals. The Mis' had lost her husband, and then her son and--but they turned her out of church. That's bad. Oh, it's awful bad to be turned out of church. Black faces, crooked often, regard one with dark suspicion when he is turned out of church, especially if a woman. And now they had _him_. The other, her consort, for such he was, because you see, be merciful, she was a human being.... And all human beings cry out for love, yes, _love_.... "Take along his Bible, Mis'," grinned Legs. And then he looked at her.... Yes, Legs knew the story too.... He was sorry, terribly sorry. They were all sorry for the Mis'. Legs and Wyeth now stood on the outside. It was safe now. They watched the arrangement. Four abreast they now stood lined in four rows. They were all handcuffed together. John Moore was there, bringing up the rear. Murphy was, too. Being the man of the house, he was honored with a place at the front. And behind these sixteen men, walked his honor, the police. And so very insignificant they were, apparently. Yet, they were the _law_! And that means more than our pen can describe here.