And so it was now--the curious
power he instinctively had over rough men had its way.
"Go on," he continued quietly, and the constable went on with his
prisoner, his friends following, still swearing and with their
weapons in their hands. When constable and prisoner passed into
the mayor's office, Hale stepped quickly after them and turned on
the threshold with his arm across the door.
"Hold on, boys," he said, still good-naturedly. "The mayor can
attend to this. If you boys want to fight anybody, fight me. I'm
unarmed and you can whip me easily enough," he added with a laugh,
"but you mustn't come in here," he concluded, as though the matter
was settled beyond further discussion. For one instant--the
crucial one, of course--the men hesitated, for the reason that so
often makes superior numbers of no avail among the lawless--the
lack of a leader of nerve--and without another word Hale held the
door. But the frightened mayor inside let the prisoner out at once
on bond and Hale, combining law and diplomacy, went on the bond.
Only a day or two later the mountaineers, who worked at the brick-
plant with pistols buckled around them, went on a strike and, that
night, shot out the lights and punctured the chromos in their
boarding-house.
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