acing all about the stone office building, and O'Donnell
and his crowd waiting. They would be obliged, they were sorry to say,
to inform them that the men had decided the "boss and his crew" should
not go home till the "twenty per cent." was paid; that some food from
the men's boarding-house would be sent them, and they would have to
stay in the office till they came to terms.

There was no alternative. They were entrapped, and there was no
escape. Grim faces looked at them from all sides.

Back into the office they turned and locked the doors, to open them
only when a huge quantity of poor food that looked like the remains of
the miners' dinner was handed in. Again they swung the iron doors to,
barred them, and sat down for the night, with the unpleasant fact
staring them in the face that they were besieged and helpless.
Apparently they had not a friend in all the crowd that surged to and
fro in the narrow streets. There was no way of letting the outside
world know their plight.

What a night that was! At first the sound of excited voices and the
distant harangues of saloon-steps orators, then all quieted down;
there was not even the hum of the machinery--only the dull tramp of
the guards without, and the far-away call, "Twelve o'clock and all's
well," which told they had a picket line on the outer edge of the
town.

Job at last fell asleep in a heap on the floor, with other sleeping
forms about him. He dreamed of home and Jane, heard Tony shout "Bress
de Lawd!" and awoke to find himself aching in every bone from the hard
floor. The light had gone out. Outside all he could hear was tramp,
tramp, tramp. Then he heard voices. They came nearer. He crept to the
key-hole and listened.

"Let's burn the thing and kill 'em, and run the mine ourselves!" said
one voice.

"Yer blockhead, don't yer know it's stone?" drawled another. "No,
gentlemen, we'll fix 'em if they don't give us our dues to-morrow!
We'll starve 'em out, and yer bet they'll sign mighty quick! We don't
want their lives; we want justice, and--"

The voice died away in the distance. Job was sure it was Dan's.

Sunday came and went with no end of the siege. It was a long day in
the office. The superintendent pored over the books, and pretended to
forget he was a prisoner. They took down only the topmost shutters.
Some of the clerks got out a pack of cards, and asked Job to take a
hand. One said contemptuously, "Oh, you're a goody-goody, parson!"
when he