Lee was waiting on the porch of the hotel, tense with excitement,
straining her ears and eyes to see what was taking place.
The night had started with a small sickle of moon, but this had dropped
below the range, leaving the street dark, save where the lights from the
windows of the all-night eating-houses and saloons lay out upon the walk,
and, while she stood peering out, the sound of rancorous howling and
shrill whooping came to her ears with such suggestion of ferocity that she
shivered.
Every good and honorable trait seemed lost out of her neighbors. She saw
the whole country but as a refuge for criminals, ungovernable youths, and
unsexed women--a wilderness of those who had no regard for any code of
morals which interfered with their own desires. Her memories of the past
freshened as she listened. In such wise she had shuddered, as a child,
while troops of celebrating cowboys rode up and down the streets. In such
wise, too, the better (and more timid) element of the town had put out
their lights and retired, leaving their drunken helots and the marshal to
fight it out in vague tumult.
A few of the hotel guests had gone to bed, but the women were up, excited
and nervous, starting at every fresh outburst of whooping, knowing that
their sons or husbands were out in the street "to see the fun," and that
they might meet trouble.
At last Lee discerned her mother returning from Halsey's, followed by
three men. Withdrawing from the little porch whereon she had been
standing, she reentered the house to meet her mother in the hall. "Where
is Mr. Cavanagh?" she asked.
"Out in the dining-room. You see, Mike Halsey is no kind o' use. He
vamoosed and left Ross down there alone, with his two prisoners and the
lights likely to be turned out on him. So I offered the caffy as a
calaboose. They are sure in for a long and tedious night."
Lee was alarmed at her mother's appearance. "You must go to bed. You look
ghastly."
"I reckon I'd better lie down for a little while, but I can't sleep. Ross
may need me. There isn't a man to help him but me, and that loafer Ballard
is full of gall. He's got it in for Ross, and will make trouble if he
can."
"What can we do?"
"Shoot!" replied Lize, with dry brevity. "I wouldn't mind a chance to plug
some of the sweet citizens of this town. I owe them one or two."
With this sentence in her ears, Lee Virginia went to her bed, but not to
slumber. Her utter inability either to control her mother's action or to
influence that of the mob added to her uneasiness.
The singing, shouting, trampling of the crowd went on, and once a group of
men halted just outside her window, and she heard Neill Ballard noisily,
drunkenly arguing as to the most effective method of taking the prisoners.
His utterances, so profane and foul, came to her like echoes from out an
inferno. The voices were all at the moment like the hissing of serpents,
the snarling of tigers. How dared creatures of this vile type use words of
contempt against Ross Cavanagh?
"Come on, boys!" urged Ballard, his voice filled with reckless
determination. "Let's run him."
As they passed, the girl sprang up and went to her mother's room to warn
her of the threatened attack.
Lize was already awake and calmly loading a second revolver by the light
of the electric bulb.
"What are you doing?" the girl asked, her blood chilling at sight of the
weapon.
"Hell's to pay out there, and I'm going to help pay it." A jarring blow
was heard. "Hear that! They're breaking in--" She started to leave the
room.