“Shet up, ye dam fool! Yer haven’t any brains to shoot. Nobody’s shot. They hit you wid a club--’ats all. Yer haven’t been hurt. Yes, by George! yer smeller is broken, and yer had better spit out them teeth afore yer swallers ’em. Gawd help him, boys, I’se glad it ain’t me. He’s got a bad swipe. Well, it’s his bizness anyway, not ours. We jest come ter see the funf an’ lend a hand if we was needed.” Here I heard a voice coming from a little distance. “We got him! We got him!” There was a sudden stampede below for the outside, and looking out of the window I saw by the glare of the torches (the moon had gone down and it was now quite dark), five or six of the ruffians holding The Man. He offered no resistance, but two had seized either arm, and two had hold of his collar from behind, and they were leading him toward the house. “We’ve got him! We’ve got him!” they shouted. “Now wasn’t he sharp? Heard us a-coming, got out of the window, and carried the cot down under a tree and pretended to be asleep. Oh yer can’t fool us, old man--we’re on to you.” “Why, Bilkson, you said he wore false whiskers and a wig--look here!” and the young wretch gave a savage pull at the snowy beard, and a man behind grabbed into his hair with a jerk that nearly threw The Man off from his feet. “Now wot’s the use of yankin’ of him around so?” said a tall young fellow. “Look at that shoulder, will you. He kin lick any one of you if you give him a show, and as long as he is decent and ain’t tryin’ to get away, let up on him, will you now! I’ll vouch for him.” At this they loosened their hold, but stood around; some with clubs, several carried pitchforks, and two had revolvers which they brandished and now and then fired in the air. All the while the yelling and running talk filled the air, oaths and obscene jokes were bandied about, and I saw that several carried bottles which were freely passed around. They stood outside for a minute, all asking questions of The Man. “Who are you and where did you come from? Enticin’ foolish women out here, that is fine bizness, ain’t it? We’ll show you!” and I saw a fist held up close to that fine face. One fellow took off his slouch hat and struck The Man with it, at the same time saying: “See, I’m the only one in the gang what respects you.” At this sally there was a big laugh. “He says he is a son of God. You heard him say that, Jake, up at the store?” “Yes,” said Jake, “he said not only he was a son of God but we all is. Where is the gal--she hasn’t got away? The city gent says she is up-stairs fixen her toilet so as to come down and receive the callers.” “Go up again, Bilkson, and tell her I’m dead gone on her.”