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 can't tell what'll happen," cautioned Professor Armstrong. "Have you a revolver?" Reaching into his rear pocket Professor Armstrong drew from its holster a blue steeled six-shooter. "Here, take this. I'll get one from my room. Wait for me."

"Hurry then, we may be too late as it is."

Professor Armstrong was gone but a matter of seconds but it seemed like ages to Dr. Tansey. They were the only persons remaining on the piazza now. While waiting for Professor Armstrong's return, Dr. Tansey's mind travelled over miles of distances and there flashed before his memory many scenes through which he had lived, reviewing them with a vividness never before known to him. They all traced in succession to the present time, ending with the picture of this man being strung up to a tree, his life sacrificed to the mob spirit, an innocent victim of their fury. Though impatient for Professor Armstrong to join him there was no trace of excitement in his system, every act, every thought, every motion of muscle was impressively deliberate.

"Hurry!" he urged as Professor Armstrong returned.

Down the street they started following the direction in which the crowd had gone. They had but reached River Street when they ran headlong into a mass of seething, rushing, scrambling humanity. Where had all these people come from so silently and in such numbers. There were young men, old men, middle aged men, women, girls and boys in the crowd which was now for the first time showing signs of boisterousness. To Dr. Tansey the