"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.
He was not long left in doubt.

The sheriff stepped to his side and dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Mr.Slocum Price, or whatever your name is, your little game is up!" "Get the well-rope! Oh, hell--won't some one get the well-rope ?" The voice rose into a wail of entreaty.
The judge's eyes, rather startled, slid around in their sockets.