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Long before the hour for the court-house bell to sound the call which would bring matters to a crisis, women disappeared from the streets, and front shutters and doors closed themselves. At last, the Souths began to ride in by half-dozens, and to hitch their horses at the racks. They, also, fell into groups well apart.
"Whoops!" yelled a Central Grammar boy, starting off. "Bring out the stuff and pile it high." "Let the Souths help!" bawled Ted Teall at the top of his voice. "No matter who won, we'll all celebrate." "Ted, you won't play any funny tricks on that pile of wood?" questioned Dick a bit uneasily, as he followed Captain Teall. "What do you take me for?" demanded the South Grammar boy.
The battle, if it came, would be as factional as the fight of twenty-five years ago, when the Hollmans held the store and the Souths the court-house. But back of all that lay one essential difference, and it was this difference that had urged the Governor to stretch the forms of law and put such dangerous power into the hands of one man. That difference was the man himself.
"Because I felt that we had been in school about as long as we could stand on the day of the championship game," laughed Prescott. "Wise captain," approved Darrin. They had not been on the field many minutes when a whoop sounded near at hand that caused the boys to look with surprise. "Here come the Souths!" called Dave. "They must have been let out early, too." "Hello!" hailed Captain Teall.
"I demand admission to the court-house to make arrests," shouted the new Sheriff. In answer, a spattering of rifle reports came from the jail windows. Two of the Souths fell. At a nod from Samson, Callomb left on a run for the hotel. The Sheriff himself took his position in a small store across the street, which he reached unhurt under a desultory fire.
"When I dies, ye'll be the head of the Souths, but so long es I'm a-runnin' this hyar fam'ly, I keeps my word ter friend an' foe alike. I reckon Jesse Purvy knows who got yore pap, but up till now no South hain't never busted no truce." The boy's voice dropped its softness, and took on a shrill crescendo of excitement as he flashed out his retort.
A man supposedly close to the Hollmans, but in reality an informer for the Souths, had seen him led into the jail-yard by a posse of a half-dozen men, and had seen the iron-barred doors close on him. That was all, except that the Hollman forces were gathering in Hixon, and, if the Souths went there en masse, a pitched battle must be the inevitable result.
Samson scorned to deny that such might be the case with him, and was silent. After a time, the old man went on again in a weary voice, as he bent down to loosen his brogans and kick them noisily off on to the floor: "The Souths hev done looked to ye a good deal, Samson. They 'lowed they could depend on ye. Ye hain't quite twenty-one yet, an' I reckon I could refuse ter let ye sell yer prop'ty.
Tamarack Spicer has killed Jim Asberry, and the Hollmans have killed Tamarack. Uncle Spicer is shot, but he may get well. There is nobody to lead the Souths. I am trying to hold them down until I hear from you. Don't come if you don't want to but the gun is ready. With love, Samson, throwing things hurriedly into his bag, heard a knock on his door.
"Come along, Souths!" Ted led the way down the field for practice. On the way he turned to shout something back. At that moment he tripped over a small wooden box and fell flat. "Oh, Ted!" called Dick hurriedly. "Well?" growled Teall, rubbing his shins. "Did you enjoy your little trip?" "My -little -trip?" repeated Ted wonderingly. "Oh -pshaw! Of course you'd think of something like that to say."
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