The door at his elbow closed sharply, and a voice cried,—
"Hullo, Rank! did you know that those blamed idiots had acquitted him?"
"I knew they would." Rankin answered, with a jerk which betokened suppressed emotion.
"There's nothing left now but lynching," his friend continued. It was Ray Dolliber, one of the more reckless spirits.
Rankin grunted in a non-committal manner.
"Say, Rank, would you lend a hand?"
"I guess not," Rankin replied slowly, as if deliberating the question.
"Why not?"
"I never did believe in lynching."
"What's the matter with lynching?"
"'T ain't fair play. Masked men, and a lot of 'em, onto one feller."
Dolliber waxed sarcastic.
"P'raps you think it's fair play for a great brute of a man to bully a woman and six children."
"P'raps I do," said Rankin, still deliberating, "but I guess 't ain't likely."
Another man came out of the court-house, leaving the door open behind him. They could see Rumpety pulling on a thick overcoat
