lan had been loyalty to his old comrades rather than his new
employers? Did he not know, or at least more than suspect, that the
company was trying to "freeze out" the distant holders? Did he not
know, down in his heart, that it was out and out robbery? And now, in
spite of youth and disguise, the manager saw in this masterful stranger
one of the very elements the owners had sought to keep at a distance
and in ignorance of true conditions. So far from resenting, he now
thanked God for his coming. What else could explain Nolan's
deference--Nolan, the most independent and self-respecting man at the
mines? What else could it mean but that this youth was one of his
officers--men skilled and schooled in warfare if not in mining--men
taught to face danger with stout heart and stubborn front? All in the
space of a few seconds the truth had flashed upon Cawker. It might not
be just what the owners would want, thought he, but it's almighty good
for us all.

Nolan, with a handful of men, still clung to the stoutest of the
buildings. It stood without the entrance to the ravine in which had
been discovered the outcropping that started the fame of Silver Shield.
In this, also, stood two other buildings, but these were so far from
the outer shop that flames need not be feared. Nolan was to care for
the wounded and guard the outward approach, and all three were in close
support of each other. Whoever managed to rush that little group of
buildings would know, if he lived, that he had been through a fight.

And now it was after six of the long summer day. The rioters had
received a wholesome lesson in the volley that met their first attempt
to swarm up from the south. They had gone tumbling and cursing back to
shelter, with three men wounded and many of the others badly scared,
and now were being harangued by their vociferous leader, and hundreds
had come to hear. Graham turned to the young Slav who had borne the
first news to Nolan. "Creep out there as far as you can," he ordered,
"listen to what is said, and tell me. They cannot reach you." But the
frightened lad crouched and whimpered. He _dared_ not.

"Come on, then," answered Geordie, grasping the stout collar of the
hickory shirt, and come he had to, moaning and imploring. With revolver
in his right hand, his unwilling interpreter in the left, Geordie
scrambled down to the roadway, and then, coming in view of the gang,
crouched with his prisoner behind sheltering bowlders, regar