quiet dark-skinned breeds, each with a Winchester on
his arm was sufficiently intimidating. The boy swung his legs out of
bed.

"All right," he said, philosophically. "Throw your light on my
clothes, will you?"

He commenced to dress without more ado. Presently he asked coolly;
"What do you want me for, and who are you anyway?"

"I'm Ambrose Doane," said Ambrose. "I've seized the flour mill.
You've got to run it."

"There's no grain there," said Greer.

"I brought my grain with me," said Ambrose.

A sound like a chuckle escaped the boy. No doubt he was well-informed
as to the situation. "You didn't lose much time," he said.

They started back to the mill, a breed on either side of Greer with a
hand upon his shoulder.

"If you make a break, you'll be knocked down and carried in," warned
Ambrose.

Apparently Greer had no such intention. He was a matter-of-fact youth
and prone to laughter. He laughed now. "Golly! the old man will be in
a wax when he hears of it! How many men have you got?"

"Twenty-five," said Ambrose.

"Well, he can't blame me if I'm forced to work by overwhelming numbers!
Oh, golly! but there'll be a time to-morrow!"

Ambrose breathed more freely. This which had promised to be the most
difficult part of his plan was proving easy.

Entering the mill, Greer looked around the dim place with its little
crowd of still, silent, armed men, and chuckled again. "Darned if it
isn't as good as a melodrama!" he said.

"Go to it!" said Ambrose, pointing to the machinery. He lit plenty of
lanterns, careless now if the fort were aroused. They had to wake up
sooner or later. "You can smoke," he said to his men.

Matches were quickly struck, and coals pressed into pipe bowls with
guttural grunts of satisfaction.

Greer lit a cigarette, and picked up his oil can and wrench as a matter
of course. He set to work, whistling softly between his teeth.

Ambrose, watching him, could not make up his mind whether this was due
to pluck or sheer light-headedness. Either way, he was inclined to
like the boy.

"I say, Ambrose," Greer said cheekily. "Give us a hand with these
bolting frames, will you? Do you want fine flour or coarse?"

"The most in the least time," said Ambrose.

"We'll leave in the middlings then. It's wholesome."

They worked amicably together. Greer in his simplicity explained
everything as they went, and Ambrose cannily stored it away.

Fortunately, the mill had l