tinkle of the falling glass sounding plainly in the turmoil of their assault; more of them seemed to find no mark at all, conspicuous as the targets stood.
Now and then somebody fired from a window or door; now and then a man appeared suddenly on the sidewalk, to wheel and run as if to arm, all in the manner of people who had been taken by disadvantageous surprise. The three riders galloped around the square in a headlong haste that seemed as if they must have accepted somebody's dare to do the trick, and must get it over with as quickly as possible. Before the citizens could assemble to check their defiant insult, they had rounded the last corner and were galloping again toward the hotel, coming back into the road by which they had entered.
At this moment Hall saw an elderly man come out of the court house door, and stand at the top of the short flight of broad wooden steps, a questioning alertness about him, as if he had been disturbed at some late official task by the unfriendly noise. He leaned forward a little, in attitude of cautious defense, the skirt of his long frock coat pushed back as if his hand rested on a weapon.
Hall could see him plainly, scarcely fifty yards' space lying between them, even to the sharp, concentrated expectancy of his face. A remarkable figure, tall and bony, his long black coat striking to his knees, his long white hair sweeping down to his shoulders in ringlets, a little dab of white beard on his lip, a long, pointed mustache extending beyond the outline of his dark, thin face.
This extraordinary old gentleman stood on the little landing before the broad door of the court house, which stood open behind him, bending in that watchful attitude
