ent on the new fighting man, but they were not
long left in doubt as to which cause he espoused. In the next instant
they were actively dodging his flashing club, and the vigilantes
encouraged as if by an angel fought with fresh vigor.

Bucks was stunned by the suddenness of Bill's change of tactics. It
was evident that he had completely forgotten his mission and now meant
to enjoy himself in the unequal fray that he had burst in upon. The
vigilantes cried a welcome to their new ally. But one cry rose above
every other and that was from Dancing's own throat as he laid about
with his club.

Consternation seized the rioters and they were thrown for a moment
into confusion. They then recognized Dancing and a shout went up.

"Railroad men!" cried a dozen of the mob at once.

And above these cries came one wheezing but stentorian voice: "You've
got 'em now; finish 'em!"

Bucks knew that voice. It was Rebstock.

The crowd took up the cry, but the lineman, swinging right and left
with terrific strength and swiftness, opened a way ahead of him while
Bucks kept close by till Dancing had cut through to the vigilantes.
Then, turning with them as they raised their own cry of triumph,
Dancing helped to drive the discomfited rioters back.

It was only for a moment that the vigilantes held their advantage.
Outnumbering the little band, the rioters closed in on their flanks
and showered stones upon them. Bill Dancing was the centre of the
fight. A piece of rock laid open his scalp, but, though the mob was
sure of getting him, he fought like a whirlwind. They redoubled their
efforts to bring him down. One active rioter with the seam of some
other fight slashed across his forehead struck down a vigilante and
ran in on Dancing. It was Seagrue. The lineman, warned by Bucks,
turned too late to escape a blow on the head that would have dazed a
bullock. But Dancing realized the instant he received the blow that
Seagrue had delivered it.

He whirled like a wounded bear and sprang at Seagrue, taking upon his
shoulder a second blow hardly less terrific than the first. Before
Seagrue could strike again, Dancing was upon him. Tearing at each
other's throats the two men struggled, each trying to free his right
arm. Seagrue was borne steadily backward. Then the lineman's big arm
shot upward and down like a trip-hammer and Seagrue sunk limp to the
ground.

The vigilantes themselves, profiting by the momentary diversion, got
away. Bucks ha