CHAPTER IX.
MOB LAW.
Lounging just outside the door at Porter's was Jim Long, hands inpockets, eyes fixed on vacancy. He was smoking his favorite pipe, andseemed quite oblivious to the stir and excitement going on within. Whenhe saw me approach, he lounged a few steps toward me, then gettingbeyond the range of Porter's door and window.
"Give a dough-headed bumpkin a chance to make a fool of himself an'he'll never go back on it," began Jim, as I approached. "Have ye cometer assist in the body huntin'?"
"I will assist, most assuredly, if assistance is needed," I replied.
"Well, then, walk right along in. I guess _I'll_ go home."
"Don't be too hasty, Jim," I said, in a lower tone. "I want to see youin about two minutes."
Jim gave a grunt of dissatisfaction, but seated himself, nevertheless,on one of Porter's empty butter tubs, that stood just beside a window.
I passed in and added myself to the large group of men huddled closetogether near the middle of the long store, and talking earnestly andangrily, with excitement, fiercely, or foolishly, as the case might be.
The fire-brand had been dropped in among them, by whom they never couldhave told, had they stopped once to consider; but they did not consider.Someone had hinted at the possibility of finding the body of littleEffie Beale in the possession of the new doctor, and that was enough.Guilty or innocent, Dr. Bethel must pay the penalty of his reticence,his newness, and his independence. Not being numbered among theacceptable institutions of Trafton, he need expect no quarter.
It seemed that the child had been under his care, and looking at thematter from a cold-blooded, scientific standpoint, it appeared to me notimpossible that the doctor _had_ disinterred the body, and I soonrealized that should he be found guilty, or even be unable to prove hisinnocence, it would go hard with Dr. Bethel.
Among those who cautioned the overheated ones, and urged prudence, andcalm judgment, was Arch Brookhouse; but, somehow, his words only servedto add fuel to the flame; while, chief among the turbulent ones, whourged extreme measures, was Tom Briggs, and I noted that he was alsosupported by three or four fellows of the same caliber, two of whom Ihad never seen before.
Having satisfied myself that there was not much time to lose if Iwished to see fair play for Dr. Bethel, I turned away from the crowd,unnoticed, and went out to where Jim waited.
"Jim," I said, touching him on the shoulder, "they mean to make it hotfor Bethel, and he will be one man against fifty--we must not allowanything like that."
"Now ye're talkin'," said Jim, knocking the ashes from his pipe, andrising slowly, "an' I'm with ye. What's yer idee?"
"We must not turn the mob against us, by seeming to co-operate," Ireplied. "Do you move with the crowd, Jim; I'll be on the ground as soonas you are."
"All right, boss," said Jim.
I turned back toward the telegraph office, that being midway between"Porter's" and my hotel.
The men were still there talking excitedly. I looked in at the windowand beckoned to young Harris. He came to me, and I whispered:
"The men at Porter's mean mischief to Dr. Bethel; your father may beable to calm them; he had better go down there."
"He will," replied Harris, in a whisper, "and so will I."
Carnes was lounging outside the office. I approached him, and said:
"Go along with the crowd, Carnes, and stand in with Briggs."
Carnes winked and nodded, and I went on toward the hotel.
On reaching my room, I took from their case a brace of five-shooters,and put the weapons in my pockets. Then I went below and seated myselfon the hotel piazza.
In order to reach Dr. Bethel's house, the crowd must pass the hotel; soI had only to wait.
I did not wait long, however. Soon they came down the street, quieterthan they had been at Porter's, but resolute to defy law and order, andtake justice into their own hands. As they hurried past the hotel ingroups of twos, threes, and sometimes half a dozen, I noted them man byman. Jim Long was loping silently on by the side of an honest-facedfarmer; Carnes and Briggs were in the midst of a swaggering, loudtalking knot of loafers; the Harrises, father and son, followed in therear of the crowd and on the opposite side of the street.
As the last group passed, I went across the road and joined the youngerHarris, who was some paces in advance of his father, looking, as I didso, up and down the street. Arch Brookhouse came cantering up on a finebay; he held in his hand the yellow envelope, which, doubtless, he hadjust received from Harris.
"Charlie," he called, reining in his horse. "Stop a moment; you mustsend a message for me."
We halted, Harris looking somewhat annoyed.
Brookhouse tore off half of the yellow envelope, and sitting on hishorse, wrote a few words, resting his scrap of paper on the horn of hissaddle.
"Sorry to trouble you, Charlie," he said, "but I want this to go atonce. Were you following the mob?"
"Yes," replied Charlie, "weren't you?"
"No," said Brookhouse, shortly, "I'm going home; I don't believe in moblaw."
So saying, he handed the paper to Harris, who, taking it with somedifficulty, having to lean far out because of a ditch between himselfand Brookhouse, lost his hold upon it, and a light puff of wind sent itdirectly into my face.
I caught it quickly, and before Harris could recover his balance, I hadscanned its contents. It ran thus:
No. ---- NEW ORLEANS.
FRED BROOKHOUSE:--Next week L---- will be on hand.
A. B.
Harris took the scrap of paper and turned back toward the office. And I,joining the elder Harris, walked on silently, watching young Brookhouseas he galloped swiftly past the crowd; past the house of Dr. Bethel, andon up the hill, toward the Brookhouse homestead. I wondered inwardly whyFrederick Brookhouse, if he were prominently connected with a Southerntheater, should receive his telegrams at a private address.
Dr. Bethel occupied two pleasant rooms of a small house owned by'Squire Brookhouse. He had chosen these, so he afterwards informed me,because he wished a quiet place for study, and this he could scarcelyhope to find either in the village hotel or the average private boardinghouses. He took his meals at the hotel, and shared the office of Dr.Barnard, the eldest of the Trafton physicians, who was quite willing toretire from the practice of his profession, and was liberal enough towelcome a young and enterprising stranger.
Dr. Bethel was absent; this the mob soon ascertained, and some of them,after paying a visit to the stable, reported that his horse was gone.
"Gone to visit some country patient, I dare say," said Mr. Harris, as weheard this announcement.
"Gone ter be out of the way till he sees is he found out," yelled TomBriggs. "Let's go through the house, boys."
There was a brief consultation among the leaders of the raid, and then,to my surprise and to Mr. Harris's disgust, they burst in the front doorand poured into the house, Carnes among the rest. Jim Long drew back asthey crowded in, and took up his position near the gate, and not farfrom the place where we had halted.
Their search was rapid and fruitless; they were beginning to come outand scatter about the grounds, when a horse came thundering up to thegate, and Dr. Bethel flung himself from the saddle.
He had seen the raiding party while yet some rods away, and he turned aperplexed and angry face upon us.
"I should like to know the meaning of this," he said, in quick, ringingtones, at the same moment throwing open the little gate so forcibly asto make those nearest it start and draw back. "Who has presumed to openmy door?"
Mr. Harris approached him and said, in a low tone:
"Bethel, restrain yourself. Little Effie Beale has been stolen from hergrave, and these men have turned out to search for the body."
"Stolen from her grave!" the doctor's hand fell to his side and theanger died out of his eyes, and he seemed to comprehend the situation ina moment.
"And they accuse me--of course."
The last words were touched with a shade of irony. Then he strode inamong the searchers.
"My friends," he said, in a tone of lofty contempt, "so you have accusedme of grave robbing. Very well; go on with your search, and when it isover, and you find that you have brought a false charge against me, gohome, with the assurance that every man of you shall be made to answerfor this uncalled-for outlawry."
The raiders who had gathered together to listen to this speech, fellback just a little, in momentary consternation. He had put the matterbefore them in a new light, and each man felt himself for the momentresponsible for his own acts. But the voice of Tom Briggs rallied them.
"He's bluffin' us!" cried this worthy. "He's tryin' to make us drop thehunt. Boys, we're gittin' hot. Let's go for the barn and garden."
And he turned away, followed by the more reckless ones.
Without paying the slightest heed to them or their movements, Dr.Bethel turned again to Mr. Harris and asked when the body wasdisinterred.
While a part of the men, who had not followed Briggs, drew closer to ourgroup, and the rest whispered together, a little apart, Mr. Harris toldhim all that was known concerning the affair.
As he listened a cynical half smile covered the doctor's face; he liftedhis head and seemed about to speak, then, closing his lips firmly, heagain bent his head and listened as at first.
"There's something strange about this resurrection," said he, when Mr.Harris had finished. "Mr. Beale's little daughter was my patient. It wasa simple case of diphtheria. There were no unusual symptoms, nothing inthe case to rouse the curiosity of any physician. The Trafton doctors_know_ this. Drs. Hess and Barnard counselled with me. Either the bodyhas been stolen by some one outside of Trafton, or--there is anothermotive."
He spoke these last words slowly, as if still deliberating, and,turning, took his horse by the bridle and led him stableward.
In another moment there came a shout from Briggs' party, their loudvoices mingling in angry denunciations.
With one impulse the irresolute ones, forgetting self, swarmed in thedirection whence the voices came.
We saw Dr. Bethel, who was just at the rear corner of the house, start,stop, then suddenly let fall the bridle and stride after the hurryingmen, and at once, Mr. Harris, Jim Long and myself followed.
Just outside the stable stood Briggs, surrounded by his crew, talkingloudly, and holding up to the view of all, a bright new spade, and anearth-stained pick ax. As we came nearer we could see that the spade toohad clots of moist black earth clinging to its surface.
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