and broad shouldered, in light colored woollen
jackets, shoepacks and blazing shirts. Each toyed with an ax handle
that swung lightly between strong, brown fingers. They were a
loose-jointed lot, active as cats, and moved with the superlative ease
of the skilled woodsman. Clark's jaw thrust out and he glanced grimly
at his visitor.

"If they think they can get it that way, they're mistaken."

"You don't understand," came the even voice. "These are my friends,
and yours. St. Marys is full of people who are after you. They are
hungry for money, and they're coming for it. This crowd reckons their
money is all right and will help you talk back."

Clark drew a long breath and caught the clear blue of Baudette's eyes.
Then he nodded and began to smile.

"Thank you, friend," he said with a catch in his breath. "I might have
known it."

Hours dragged by. That night there was looting in Ironville, and the
local grocers suffered a sudden depletion of stock. Morning broke,
gray and threatening, while through shack and cabin an ugly temper
spread steadily. Clark perceived that the real thing was coming now.
Once or twice he thought of Semple, who must already be closeted with
the Premier.

Just before midday a howling mob gathered swiftly outside the big
gates, when instantly Baudette and his fifty axemen ran up and joined
the guards. The crowd increased, and there went out an imperative
summons to Manson who, with his thirty police, ranged himself half a
mile away on the road to St. Marys. But for this the town was utterly
unprotected. Came the pad pad of flying feet, and Fisette dashed up,
swinging a prospecting pick. He grinned at the big constable.

"By Gar!" he panted, "I guess we catch hell now."

Followed a little pause, broken only by the deep threatening note of
the crowd. Then Belding felt a touch on his shoulder.

"Open the gates," said Clark evenly, "I want to speak to them."

The engineer stared at the set face. His chief's eyes were like
polished steel, and his jaw thrust out. There was no fear here.

"Stay inside, sir. They'll kill you."

The front rank caught sight of the erect figure. Then silence fell
over them and spread slowly through the dark-browed multitude, Clark
raised an imperative finger. The gates opened a fraction, and in front
of them stood the man in whom the rioters perceived the head of their
present world.

"I want to tell you that your money is coming, and tha