g's revenue.
But now I must be off. I shall make straight across for the mill without
going into Varley."

One night Ned had as usual gone to the mill, and having carried down the
twelve barrels from the office and placed them in a pile in the center
of the principal room of the mill he retired to bed. He had been asleep
for some hours when he was awoke by the faint tingle of a bell. The
office was over the principal entrance to the mill, and leaping from his
bed he threw up the window and looked out. The night was dark, but he
could see a crowd of at least two hundred men gathered in the yard.

As the window was heard to open a sudden roar broke from the men, who
had hitherto conducted their operations in silence.

"There he be, there's the young fox; burn the mill over his head. Now to
work, lads, burst in the door."

And at once a man armed with a mighty sledgehammer began to batter at
the door.

Ned tried to make himself heard, but his voice was lost in the roar
without. Throwing on some clothes he ran rapidly downstairs and lighted
several lamps in the machine room. Then he went to the door, which was
already tottering under the heavy blows, shot back some of the bolts,
and then took his place by the side of the pile of barrels with a pistol
in his hand.

In another moment the door yielded and fell with a crash, and the crowd
with exultant cheers poured in.

They paused surprised and irresolute at seeing Ned standing quiet and
seemingly indifferent by the pile of barrels in the center of the room.

"Hold!" he said in a quiet, clear voice, which sounded distinctly over
the tumult. "Do not come any nearer, or it will be the worse for you.
Do you know what I have got here, lads? This is powder. If you doubt it,
one of you can come forward and look at this barrel with the head out by
my side. Now I have only got to fire my pistol into it to blow the mill,
and you with it, into the air, and I mean to do it. Of course I shall go
too; but some of you with black masks over your faces, who, I suppose,
live near here, may know something about me, and may know that my life
is not so pleasant a one that I value it in the slightest. As far as I
am concerned you might burn the mill and me with it without my lifting a
finger; but this mill is the property of my mother, brother, and sister.
Their living depends upon it, and I am going to defend it. Let one of
you stir a single step forward and I fire this pistol into this