Rumors sped from mouth to mouth and were expanded at every exchange. A vague uneasiness, a feeling that there was something in the wind and that the warning boded new and sinister experiences for the town, served for a time to throw a damper on its reckless gaiety. Then a tall, thin miner forced his horse through the crowd, read the message, and broke into a loud guffaw. It seemed to relieve the situation. Several others laughed with him. “Feller citizens,” said Wasp Williams, wheeling his horse and facing the crowd, “I begs to call your attention to this noble appeal which you sees behind me. You all knows the respect an’ esteem which I feels for them two contrivances, knowed as law an’ order! There ain’t nothin’ to compare with ’em! They offers refuge to tender feet an’ pertection to the weak-kneed. Them which is careless with language, but don’t hanker none to face the business end o’ these little toys us men is kind o’ partial to out here, cries for law an’ order like a baby for its bottle. They gotta have it so’s red-blooded he-men won’t decorate ’em with lead when they gits naughty. I’m in favor of it, by all means! But it strikes me, friends, as how this here notice shows a disconcertin’ lack o’ common ornamentation; and I figgers you’d be kind o’ pleased if I fixed it up pretty an’ attractive-like.” He turned again, and drew both of his revolvers. With careless accuracy, he fired bullet after bullet into the sign. Twice he reloaded, and the flame leaped in a steady stream from the muzzles until the chambers were empty. Then he thrust them back. He took off his hat, made a jeering bow to the groups before him, and addressed them. “As a leadin’ inhabitant o’ this here flourishin’ metropolis,” he remarked, “I has the honor to present my answer to the aforesaid warnin’.” There was a shout, then a roar of laughter, from, the crowd. The tension was broken. Across the face of the notice the bullet-holes dearly traced the letters D-a-m! That was Williams’s version of the spelling of the word. Another horse cantered up to the outskirts of the crowd. In the saddle was the straight, graceful figure of Jeanne Dudley. Seeing her, Williams made another mock bow and called to her across the heads of the men between them. “We is celebratin’ the beginnin’ o’ law an’ order here in Ramapo,” he said. “P’r’aps you would like to git a glimpse o’ the announcement o’ this surprisin’ an’ gratifyin’ change. Boys, give way there a little an’ let the lady through.” The crowd parted. The girl leisurely walked her horse nearer. Then she saw the bullet-holes in the poster and stopped. With a scornful glance at the man before her, she drew her own weapon and leveled it at the sign. “Your spelling is rather poor,” she remarked coolly. “There is another letter in that word. Perhaps I can impress it on your memory better by using your own methods.”