That name he
wrote on bridges and walls; and one day, when your father left the
courthouse, a mob followed him, shouting loud words which I will
not repeat, but which you must understand were such as must be met
and answered when the man so assailed is Judge Ostrander. Have I
said enough? If so, raise your hand and I will desist for to-
night."
But no movement took place in the shadow cast by Oliver's figure
on the wall before which Mr. Black had paused, and presently, a
voice was heard from where he sat, saying:
"You are too merciful. I do not want generalities but the naked
truth. What did the men shout?"
"You have asked for a fact, and that I feel free to give you. They
shouted, 'Where is Oliver, your guilty son, Oliver? You saved him
at a poor man's expense, but we'll have him yet.' You asked me for
the words, Mr. Ostrander."
"Yes." The pause was long, but the "Yes" came at last. Then
another silence, and then this peremptory demand: "But we cannot
stop here, Mr. Black. If I am to meet my father's wishes to-
morrow, I must know the ground upon which I stand. What evidence
lies back of these shouts? If you are my friend,--and you have
shown yourself to be such,--you will tell me the whole story. I
shall say nothing more."
Mr. Black was not walking now; he was standing stock-still and in
the shadow also. And with this space and the double shadow between
them, Alanson Black told Oliver Ostrander why the people had
shouted: "We will have him yet.
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