Perhaps, indeed, he was not wholly averse to such
occasional displays by the mob, as would keep before the gentlemen of
the town a vivid impression of what would be in store for them if but
for his guardianship.
It was about eight o'clock in the evening that, coming in sight of the
store, he saw it besieged by a gang of men, whom Squire Edwards,
visible against the background of the lighted doorway, was
expostulating with. The men were drunk and reckless. They wanted rum
and were bound to have it, and on the other hand the Squire had
evidently made up his mind that if they got into his store in their
present mood, they would be likely to plunder him of whatever he had,
and drawing valor from desperation, was opposing, a resistance which
involved no small personal peril. The crowd, besides being drunk, was
composed of the very men who had grudged him his escape from the
whipping-post a few days previous, and was by no means disposed to
stand on ceremony with him. Already he was being hustled, his wig had
been displaced, and his cane struck out of his hand, and in another
minute he would have been knocked down and the store thronged. The
light of a blazing bonfire on the green, threw glimmering reflections
upon the crowd before the store, and Edwards catching sight of Perez'
three-cornered hat cried in desperation:
"Captain Hamlin, will you let them kill me?"
In another moment Perez was up on the piazza in full view of the
crowd, which abashed a little by his presence, for a moment drew back
a little.
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