He threw his horse across the road to oppose their progress, rose in his stirrups, and waved the paper over his head.

"Stop!" he roared, "Give me one minute.

Stop!" He had a grand voice; and he was known in many parts of the State for the great bass roar with which he startled his juries.

To be heard at a distance most men lift the pitch of their voices; Smith lowered his an octave or two, and the result was like an earthquake playing an organ in a catacomb.
"Stop!" he thundered.

"Stop!" In answer, one of the flying Cross-Roaders turned and sent a bullet whistling close to him.