ultiplied. Another crowd was gathering--just a
knot of men down the street by the Company's store, in the opposite
direction from the Hot Dog crowd. Grant and Nate noticed the second
crowd at the same time. It was Local No. 10. Grant left the window and
lighted the lamp. He wrote on a piece of paper, a few lines, handed it
to Nathan, saying:

"Here, sign it with me." It read:

"Boys--whatever you do, don't start anything--of any kind--no matter
what happens to us. We can take care of ourselves."

Nathan Perry signed it, slipped down the stairs into the hall, and
beckoned to his men at the Company's store. The crowd at the Hot Dog saw
him and yelled, but Evan Evans came running for the note and took it
back. Little Tom Williams came up the stairs with Nathan, saying:

"Well--they're getting ready for business. I brought a gun up to No. 3
this afternoon. I'm with Grant in this."

The little landlord went into No. 3, appeared with a rifle, and came
bobbing into the room.

Grant at the window could see the crowd marching from the Hot Dog to
Dick's Place, yelling and cursing as it went. The group in the bedroom
over the street opened the street windows to see better and hear better.
An incandescent over the door of the saloon lighted the narrow street.
In front of the saloon and under the light the mob halted. The men in
the room with Grant were at the windows watching. Suddenly--as by some
prearranged order, four men with revolvers in their hands ran across the
street towards the hotel. Brotherton, Williams and Perry ran to the head
of the stairs, guns in hand. Grant followed them. There they stood when
the door below was thrown open, and the four men below rushed across the
small landing to the bottom of the stairs. It was dark in the upper
hall, but a light from the street flooded the lower hall. The men below
did not look up; they were on the stairs.

"Stop," shouted Brotherton with his great voice.

That halted them. They looked up into darkness. They could see no
faces--only four gun barrels. The men farthest up the stairs literally
fell into the arms of those below. Then the four men below scrambled
down the stairs as Mr. Brotherton roared:

"I'll kill the first man who puts his foot on the bottom step again."

With a cry of terror they rushed out. The crowd at the Company store
hooted, and the mob before the saloon jeered. But the four men scurried
across the street, and told the crowd what had happened. F