"I do," interrupted the judge. "I hope it's poison to 'em.
"It will be in the long run, if it's any comfort to you to know
it."
"It's no comfort, it's not near quick enough," said the judge
relentlessly. The sudden noisy clamor of many voices,
highpitched and excited, floated out to them under the hot sky.
"I wonder--" began the judge, and paused as he saw the crowd
stream into the road before the tavern. Then a cloud of dust
enveloped it, a cloud of dust that came from the trampling of
many pairs of feet, and that swept toward them, thick and
impenetrable, and no higher than a tall man's head in the
lifeless air. "I wonder if we missed anything" continued the
judge, finishing what he had started to say.
The score or more of men were quite near, and the judge and
Mahaffy made out the tall figure of the sheriff in the lead. And
then the crowd, very excited, very dusty, very noisy and very
hot, flowed into the judge's front yard. For a brief moment that
gentleman fancied Pleasantville had awakened to a fitting sense
of its obligation to him and that it was about to make amends for
its churlish lack of hospitality. He rose from his chair, and
with a splendid florid gesture, swept off his hat.
"It's the pussy fellow!" cried a voice.
"Oh, shut up--don't you think I know him?" retorted the sheriff
tartly.
"Gentlemen--" began the judge blandly.
"Get the well-rope!"
The judge was rather at loss properly to interpret these varied
remarks.
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