Scarcely had she spoken when the flickering light moved out into the road,
directly in their way. Ketchomunoski, lantern in hand, barred their way.

Jefferies could have urged the horses on, letting the big Polander run the
risk of getting beneath their hoofs. But Jefferies was a peaceful man, so
long as peace served his purpose. If strategy served, he preferred it to
war; if not, then he was ready for the last. At the flourish of the
lantern, he drew rein, calling out in friendly tone: "That you, John?" By
that name every foreigner was known. "Come here, I want to speak to you."

The Pole came to the side of the carriage. "We've got to get to Bitumen,
John, and get there to-night. How's the road?"

"No one go to there to-night," he replied, in his broken English. He was
to watch the road. Men were above. He would fire his gun if any one
suspicious passed. They could not go on. This was the purport of his
speech.

Leaning forward, Nora touched the man's arm. "Don't you know me?" she
said. "I'm Dennis O'Day's daughter. Listen! I must reach my father at
once. _At once_, do you understand? I have a message to give him which
will affect the strike. But _I_ must give it to him. Fire your gun, and
let the miners meet us. I want them to take me to my father."

She kept her hand on the man's arm as she was speaking. She looked him
directly in the eye, as though by force of her own will she would compel
him to do her bidding. Her words threw a new light upon the case. Yet in
times like this, one can trust the words of no one.

"Where have I seen you?" he asked, scrutinizing her closely.

Her face flushed, but she answered bravely. "Do you remember two years
ago, you came to my father for help? One of your people was in
jail--someone had been hurt, killed, perhaps. An Italian named De Angelo.
And my father went to court with you to tell that Gerani, I think that was
his name, was not present when the Italian was hurt. I was at home when
you came."

The man nodded. There was no question now in his mind. She was Dennis
O'Day's daughter, the daughter of the man, who, although himself not a
miner, stood shoulder to shoulder with them when they needed a friend. She
saw him hesitate.

"If you are afraid to allow us to pass, fire your gun, and let the miners
know we're coming. I am not afraid of them. They will befriend me."

He stepped aside. At that instant Jefferies brought down his whip upon the
backs of the horses, and t