We can go down to the woods in force, and pretend that what we want to do comes as a rebuke administered by the citizens of Fenton." "Hurrah!" cheered one man who seemed in danger of falling asleep.
"Miller, let us use your telephone," urged the former speaker.
"No, you can't," retorted the liquor seller quickly.

"It's all right for you men to do whatever you think is right, but you've got to remember that I've got to be kept out of whatever happens." Well enough did the wretch know that half-hearted opposition from him would only fan the flame hotter among the men who considered themselves his friends.
So the messengers were sent to the other drinking places in town.
Word was passed for a night raid "by representative citizens," as these topers called themselves.
Men of the same turn of mind soon came flocking in from other drinking resorts.
"Don't talk here about what you're going to do for the good of the town," Miller ordered.

"Remember, I've got to be kept out of this.

My position is a delicate one, you understand." Soon after midnight the disreputable army of vengeance seekers was straggling down the road.

Talking had ceased.