lence. The Chief drew his
gun and said in a loud, clear voice:

"I am going to clear away this barricade. The first man that offers to
prevent me I shall shoot on the spot."

"I wouldn't do that, Chief," said a voice quietly from the rear. "There
are others, you know. Listen."

Three shots rang out in rapid succession, and again silence fell.

Meantime from the corner of the barricade a man had been peering into
the cars.

"Boys!" he shouted. "They ain't there! There ain't no scabs."

The Chief laughed quietly.

"Who said there were?" he asked.

"Sold, by thunder!" said the man. Then he yelled: "We'll get 'em yet.
Come on, boys, to the main street."

Like a deer, he doubled down a side street, followed by the crowd,
yelling, cursing, swearing deep oaths.

"Let 'em go," said the Chief. "Maitland's got through by this time." As
he spoke, two shots rang out, followed by the crash of glass, and the
headlights of the first car went black.

"Just as well you didn't get through, Chief," said the voice of the
previous speaker. "Might've got hurt, eh?"

"Give it to him, Chief," said Rupert savagely.

"No use," said the Chief. "Let him go."

Meanwhile, Maitland, with little or no opposition, had got his cars
through the crowd, which as a matter of fact were unaware of the
identity of the party until after they had broken through.

Their way led by a circuitous route through quiet back streets,
approaching Police Headquarters from the rear. A ten-minute run brought
them to a short side street which led past the Maitland Mills, at the
entrance to which they saw under the glare of the arc lights over the
gateway a crowd blocking their way.

"Now, what in thunder is this? Hold up a minute," said Maitland to his
driver. "Let me take a look." He ran forward to the main entrance.
There he found the gateway, which stood a little above the street
level, blocked by a number of his own men, some of whom he recognised
as members of his hockey team, and among them, McNish. Out in the street
among the crowd stood Simmons, standing on a barrel, lashing himself
into a frenzy and demanding blood, fire, revolution, and what not.

"McNish, you here?" said Maitland sharply. "What is it, peace or war?
Speak quick!"

"A'm haudden these fules back fra the mill," answered McNish with a
scowl. Then, dropping into his book English, he continued bitterly:
"They have done enough to-night already. They have wrecked our cause for
us!"