The Negro obeyed, though his heart for some cause was in the court room. Suddenly there was a tumult in the court room and the Negro dropped his lemonade bucket and ran to the door. He saw a crowd surging about the lyncher that had been on trial, and he cried out in startling tones: "Gemmen, don't do dat. Don't kill de man. De boy whut wuz burnt, I'm his daddy. I jes' wanted yer ter 'nounce de man guilty so as ter tek de stain off'n de dead; but fur Gawd's sake, don' lynch de man." The judge saw through it all at once and hastened to Silas Harper's side, for it was he, Bud's father. In sorrowful tones the judge said, "You are mistaken, friend. They are congratulating the man. They are not trying to hurt him. The jury has said that he was not guilty. You had better come and go with me. They might become enraged against you and have another lynching." Silas Harper's jaws fell apart in amazement and his eyes took on the look of a terror-stricken, hunted animal. He meekly slunk along after the judge, and to an outsider would have appeared to be a criminal doomed to die. CHAPTER XXV. _A Joyful Farewell._ Mr. Seabright sat upright in bed and rubbed his eyes. The gas was burning and there sat a man in one corner of his bedroom, turning a rifle over and over, in a cool manner, a keen look of satisfaction in his eyes. "Am I dreaming? O, I am dreaming!" said Mr. Seabright, trying to thus reassure himself; but a man was sitting in a chair in the corner, all as plain as day. "But I have had dreams that appeared as real," thought Mr. Seabright. He pinched himself so as to further determine the fact as to whether he was awake or asleep. Being thoroughly convinced that he was awake, he quickly fell back in the bed and pulled the cover over his head. Remembering, however, the man's rifle, he pulled the covering far enough down to allow one terrified eye to keep track of the weapon. "Mr. Seabright!" called the intruder. "Sir," responded Mr. Seabright, in sepulchral tones. "I think your wife belongs to that man Marshall's church," remarked the man. Mr. Seabright nodded assent. "Tell her that her pastor will hardly live till morning and that he would like to see her," said the man. Mr. Seabright had now found courage to pull the cover down from over the other eye, and it now rested on his nose. "Did you hear me," said the man, rather sharply. "You will please excuse my boldness," said Mr. Seabright, tremblingly, "but you have a totally wrong conception of my disposition I fear, Mr. Stranger. You can get the full benefit of my services with only the butt end of that thing pointing my way, instead of the occasional shifting of the muzzle in my direction." The stranger smiled coldly and said, "Tell her what I said." Mr. Seabright now got out of bed and proceeded to the door opening from his room into that of his wife. "Arabelle!" called Mr. Seabright through the partly opened door.