"There!" exclaimed John, triumphantly, standing erect. "You have no sort of right to take this man now! You shall not hang him! I'll make a compact with you, gentlemen--fellow citizens! Send at once to the home of Dick Goodloe. If he is dead, I'll find you the keys, and step aside. If he lives, you are to go home and leave this jail unmolested. Do you agree?" Various voices expressed assent to the plan, and even the ringleader nodded acquiescence, without speaking. A messenger was accordingly dispatched at once, a youth with nimble legs, who started on a run. During the period of waiting the men were quiet, though some conversed in low tones. No one paid any attention to the wounded negro, who attempted to drag himself away, but found the effort so painful that he gave it up. In a short time the messenger returned with his news. Goodloe was sleeping, and Doctor Kale said that his chances for recovery were better. Instantly the crowd melted as silently as they had come, and soon Glenning found himself alone before the iron-barred door, while there upon the grass before him the negro moaned ceaselessly. There was no resentment in John's heart towards the object his bullet had stricken down. Now he merely saw something in distress which needed his help. He lifted the lamp from its socket and went towards the negro, who tried to shrink away at his approach. "Be still!" ordered Glenning, and placing the lamp on the ground, he began an examination. The hurt was not serious. The knee-cap was shattered, but the tough bone had deflected the bullet. "Where do you live?" asked John, brusquely. The negro told him, stuttering with fright. "You belong in there!" returned the doctor, sternly, waving his hand towards the dark mass of stone behind him. "Don't you ever get tangled up in anything like this again. Now you can't walk a step, and won't for some time to come." He took his handkerchief and bound it about the wounded limb. "I'll have a wagon here to take you home in a few minutes," he continued, "and I'll come in the morning and dress that knee." Then, without waiting to hear the profuse thanks and humble apologies which followed, he replaced the lamp, secured the keys and the revolvers, and bent his steps in the direction of Main street. He stopped at the livery stable and gave instructions for removing the negro, then went to his office, tired, victorious, but unsatisfied.