the veterans. Farnham sprang forward and struck the burly
ruffian with his club; but his foot slipped on the grass, and he
dropped on one knee. Bowersox raised his slung-shot; a single report of
a pistol rang out, and he tumbled forward over Farnham, who sprang to
his feet and shouted, "Now, men, drive 'em!" Taking the right himself
and profiting by the momentary shock of the shot, they got the crowd
started again, and by vigorous clubbing drove them once more into the
street.

Returning to the shadow by the house, Farnham's first question was, "Is
anybody hurt?"

"I've got a little bark knocked off," said one quiet fellow, who came
forward showing a ghastly face bathed in blood from a wound in his
forehead. Farnham looked at him a moment, and then, running to his
door, opened it and called Budsey, who had been hiding in the cellar,
praying to all his saints.

"Here, Budsey, take this man down to the coachman's house, and then go
round the corner and bring Dr. Cutts. If he isn't there, get somebody
else. It does not amount to much, but there will be less scar if it is
attended to at once."

The man was starting away with Budsey, when Temple said, "Look here!
You won't need that arsenal any more to-night. Pass it over," and took
the man's belt, with club and pistol, and buckled them around his own
slim waist. Handing Farnham his own pistol, he said: "Thanks, Arthur. I
owe you one cartridge."

"And I owe you, God knows how much!"

Farnham then briefly announced to his men that the shot which had just
been fired was not by a member of the company, and was, therefore, not
a disobedience of orders. Catching sight of Bowersox lying motionless
on the grass, he ordered,

"Two file-closers from the right, go and bring in that man!"

But at that moment Bowersox moved, sat up and looked about him, and,
suddenly remembering where he was, struggled to his feet and half-ran,
half staggered to his friends in the street. They gathered about him
for a moment, and then two of them were seen supporting him on his way
into the town.

Farnham was standing behind his men, and a little apart. He was
thinking whether it might not be best to take them at once into the
street and disperse the crowd, when he felt a touch at his elbow. He
turned, and saw his gardener, Ferguson.

"If I might speak a word, sir!"

"Certainly--what is it? But be quick about it."

"I think all is not right at the Widow Belding's. I was over there but