"No, sir; we simply banked on him. Now, he's a good fellow, an' this may be a joke o' Link's; but the fact is, it might 'a' happened.
Well, sonny?" he said to the boy, who came running up.
"Link ain't to home, an' Mrs. Sanford she says Jim's sick an' can't come down."
There was a silence. "Anybody see him this morning?" asked Wilson.
"Yes; I saw him," said Vance. "Looked bad, too." The crowd changed; people came and went, some to get news, some to carry it away. In a short time the whole town knew the bank had "busted all to smash." Farmers drove along and stopped to find out what it all meant. The more they talked, the more excited they grew; and "scoundrel," and "I always had my doubts of that feller," were phrases growing more frequent.
The list of the victims grew until it was evident that neariy all of the savings of a dozen or. more depositors were swallowed up, and the sum reached was nearly twenty thousand dollars.
"What did he do with it?" was the question. He never gambled or drank. He lived frugally. There was no apparent cause for this failure of a trusted institution.
It was beginning to snow in great, damp, driving flakes, which melted as they fell, giving to the street a strangeness and gloom that were impressive. The men left the sidewalk at last and gathered in the saloons and stores to continue the discussion.
The crowd at the railroad saloon was very decided in its belief.
Sanford had pocketed the money and skipped. That yarn about his being at home sick was a blind. Some went so far as to say that it was almighty curious where Link was, hinting darkly that the bank ought to be broken into, and so on.
Upon this company burst Barney and Sam Mace from "Hogan's Corners." They were excited by the news and already inflamed with drink.
"Say!" yelled Barney, "any o' you fellers know any-thing about Jim Sanford?"
"No. Why? Got any money there?"
"Yes; and I'm goin' to git it out, if I haf to smash the door in."
"That's the talk!" shouted some of the loafers. They sprang up and surrounded Barney. There was something in his voice that aroused all their latent ferocity. "I'm goin' to get into that bank an' see how things look, an' then I'm goin' to find Sanford an' get my money, or pound - out of 'im, one o' the six."
"Go find him first. He's up home, sick-so's his wife."
"I'll see whether he's sick 'r not. I'll drag 'im out by the scruff o' the neck! Come on!" He ended with a sudden resolution, leading the way out into the street, where the falling snow was softening the dirt into a sticky mud.
A rabble of a dozen or two of men and boys followed Mace up the street. He led the way with great strides, shouting his threats. As they passed along, women thrust their heads out at the windows, asking, "What's the matter?" And someone answered each time in a voice of unconcealed delight:
"Sanford's stole all the money in the bank, and they're goin' up to lick 'im. Come on if ye want to see the fun."
In a few moments the street looked as if an alarm of fire had been sounded. Half the town seemed to be out, and the other half coming-women in shawls, like squaws; children capering and laughing; young men grinning at the girls who came out and stood at the gates.
Some of the citizens tried to stop it. Vance found the constable looking on and ordered him to do his duty and stop that crowd.
"I can't do anything," he said helplessly. "They ain't done nawthin' yet, an' I don't know-"
"Oh, git out! They're goin' up there to whale Jim, an' you know it.
If you don't stop 'em, I'll telephone f'r the sheriff, and have you arrested with 'em."
Under this pressure, the constable ran along after the crowd, in an attempt to stop it. He reached them as they stood about the little porch of the house, packed closely around Barney and Sam, who said nothing, but followed Barney like his shadow. If the sun had been shining, it might not have happened as it did; but there was a semi-obscurity, a weird half-light shed by the thick sky and falling snow, which somehow encouraged the enraged ruffians, who pounded on the door just as the pleading voice of the constable was heard.
"Hold on, gentlemen! This is ag'inst the law "Law to -!" said someone. "This is a case f'r something besides law."
"Open up there!" roared the raucous voice of Barney Mace as he pounded at the door fiercely.
The door opened, and the wife appeared, one child in her arms, the other at her side.
"What do you want?"
"Where's that banker? Tell the thief to come out here! We want to talk with him."
The woman did not quail, but her face seemed a ghastly yellow, seen through the falling snow.
"He can't come. He's sick."
"Sick! We'll sick 'im! Tell 'im t' come out, or we'll snake 'im out by the heels." The crowd laughed. The worst elements of the saloons surrounded the two half-savage men. It was amusing to them to see the woman face them all in that way.
"Where's McPhail?" Vance inquired anxiously. "Some-body find McPhail."
"Stand out o' the way!" snarled Barney as he pushed the struggling woman aside.
The wife raised her voice to that wild, animal-like pitch a woman uses when desperate.
"I shan't do it, I tell you! Help!"
"Keep out o' my way, or I'll wring y'r neck fr yeh." She struggled with him, but he pushed her aside and entered the room.
"What's goin' on here?" called the ringing voice of Andrew McPhail, who had just driven up with Link.
Several of the crowd looked over their shoulders at McPhail.
"Hello, Mac! Just in time. Oh, nawthin'. Barney's callin' on the banker, that's all."
Over the heads of the crowd, packed struggling about the door, came the woman's scream again. McPhail dashed around the crowd, running two or three of them down, and entered the back door. Vance, McIlvaine, and Lincoln followed him.
