Young Dave
followed Hale's figure with a look of baffled malignant hatred and
Bub's eyes were filled with angry tears. Between the factions, the
grim young men stood with their guns like statues.
At once a big man with a red face appeared at one of the jailer's
windows and then came the sheriff, who began to take out the sash.
Already the frightened crowd had gathered closer again and now a
hush came over it, followed by a rustling and a murmur. Something
was going to happen. Faces and gun-muzzles thickened at the port-
holes and at the windows; the line of guards turned their faces
sidewise and upward; the crowd on the fence scuffled for better
positions; the people in the trees craned their necks from the
branches or climbed higher, and there was a great scraping on all
the roofs. Even the black crowd out on the hills seemed to catch
the excitement and to sway, while spots of intense blue and vivid
crimson came out here and there from the blackness when the women
rose from their seats on the ground. Then--sharply--there was
silence. The sheriff disappeared, and shut in by the sashless
window as by a picture frame and blinking in the strong light,
stood a man with black hair, cropped close, face pale and worn,
and hands that looked white and thin--stood bad Rufe Tolliver.
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