Page:The War on the Webfoot Saloon.djvu/13

 the hot soup brought them by thoughtful friends, singing and praying at intervals, and enjoying themselves hugely.

At last the visiting hours ended. The fair prisoners, apparently believing they were to be held overnight, settled themselves comfortably down. But then, wrote Frances Fuller Victor:

"... about half-past eight o'clock,... having been furnished with night clothes, etc., and having said good-night as they believed for the last time, they were just about preparing for slumber, some of them with their shoes unlaced and others partly undressed when Chief of Police Lappeus appeared and in peremptory tones ordered them to leave the jail.

On being remonstrated with for giving this order after allowing their friends to go away, and being assured of their willingness to remain. . . the officer insisted, saying:

"I'm the boss here; you leave!"

Thus turned out, the ladies groped their way downstairs, but finding that quite a crowd of men were collected at the corner of the block, were afraid to go upon the streets, and returned to their prison. After a little deliberation, one of their number proposed that they make another effort to get away, and even went so far as to claim the protection of a stranger who chanced to be near the jail ..."

And so, with a single escort, the little flotilla of five sailed up to the Taylor Street Church, where its unexpected appearance set off a demonstration that was, according to one damp-eyed observer, the most touching witnessed since the boys came home from the War Between the States.

The arrest and imprisonment of some of their members, far from dampening the spirits of the Crusaders, spurred them to more feverish activity. Platoons of Leaguers marched sternly up this street and down that. Ladies singly and in pairs, and wearing mysterious smiles, rushed about on obscure errands. Moffett was bedevilled without remission while he, as a retaliatory measure, took to following his tormentors about, muttering imprecations and offering unsolicited advice. Meanwhile the League was supporting a weekly sheet, the Temperance Star, and had endorsed a slate of Temperance candidates in the forthcoming election. (One gentleman to whom support was given frankly admitted he indulged, but was apparently considered acceptable because he was nearly always sober.) The reverend gentry who were riding