they gave back, cursing, surprised. He reached the door, and, flinging
those who blocked it right and left, entered. There he was recognized,
and his name flew from mouth to mouth.

"Clark!"

He walked up to the table, strewn with books and deeds.

"Silence!" he thundered. But there was no need,--they were still for
once. "This court is closed," he cried "while Kentucky is in danger.
Not a deed shall be signed nor an acre granted until I come back from the
Ohio. Out you go!"

Out they went indeed, judge, brokers, speculators--the evicted and the
triumphant together. And when the place was empty Clark turned the key
and thrust it into his hunting shirt. He stood for a moment on the step,
and his eyes swept the crowd.

"Now," he said, "there have been many to claim this land--who will follow
me to defend it?"

As I live, they cheered him. Hands were flung up that were past
counting, and men who were barely rested from the hardships of the
Wilderness Trail shouted their readiness to go. But others slunk away,
and were found that morning grumbling and cursing the chance that had
brought them to Kentucky. Within the hour the news had spread to the
farms, and men rode in to Harrodstown to tell the Colonel of many who
were leaving the plough in the furrow and the axe in the wood, and
starting off across the mountains in anger and fear. The Colonel turned
to me as he sat writing down the names of the volunteers.