it was
impossible for the strikers to tell how many armed men confronted them,
so they fell back a little, but formed a cordon around the entire
building. From the printing office to the old mill was a distance of
only a few hundred feet, and every able-bodied inhabitant of Millville
except Peggy McNutt and Sara Cotting--who had discreetly disappeared at
the first sign of danger--was assisting Joe Wegg to protect the electric
cable he was trying to connect. The men from Royal were scattered all
along the line, peering through the dim light to discover a vulnerable
point of attack but deterred from interfering by the determination of
the stalwart defenders. Mobs are invariably cowardly, and this one,
composed of the lowest strata of mixed American and foreign laborers,
was no exception to the general rule. However, when word was finally
passed along from the mill that the dynamo was running and supplying
power to the printing press, a howl of rage went up and a sudden rush
was made for the line, the attack concentrating at one point.

The defenders promptly grouped themselves in front of the threatened
pole and Seth Davis, the blacksmith, wielding a heavy sledge hammer, did
valiant service, clearing a space around him with little difficulty. Joe
Wegg, Arthur Weldon, Cox the detective, Lon Taft, Nick Thome and even
little Skim Clark were all in the melee, fighting desperately for time
to enable Thursday Smith to work his press, using whatever cudgels they
had been able to pick up to keep the assailants from the pole. Slowly,
however, they were forced back by superior numbers until finally one of
the mill hands clambered up the pole and cut the wire.

"Never mind," said Arthur to Joe, as they retreated fighting toward the
printing office; "I think they've had time to run off the edition,
provided Smith was ready with the forms."

The mob was by this time in an ugly mood and the nearer Joe and Arthur
edged toward the printing office the more numerous their enemies became.
The Millville people were getting rather the worst of the scrimmage when
out rushed Thursday Smith, swinging a stout iron bar he had taken from
the press, and with this terrible weapon he struck out so vigorously
that the diversion in their favor enabled the retreating villagers to
gain the office, where Booth and Bob West fired several shots that
effectually checked the mob.

"Stand back, ye villains!" cried a loud voice, as Major Doyle marched
calmly