delighted
him. He was glad that she was beautiful.

"Well, Nora, what is it that has brought you to Bitumen at this of all
times?" he asked, putting his arm about her and drawing her close to him.

"The strike."

"The strike! It is just the reason that you shouldn't be here. I've a
notion to cart-whip Jefferies for bringing you. You might have been shot
by the miners."

"So I might. But Jefferies wasn't asked anything about it, daddy. I told
him he _had_ to bring me here before morning, and if he killed the horses
by hard driving, you'd pay for them."

Dennis O'Day laughed. He liked her audacity. "But suppose I wouldn't?"

"But you would. You have never failed me yet, daddy, and you never will.
It doesn't matter much what happens, you'll stand by me. That is why I
felt so sure about coming. Dr. Morgan did not wish me to. She said it
would be useless. But she yielded when I insisted that you would do what
was right. And you must do it now, daddy." She drew down his head to kiss
him. "You must keep the miners from attacking the mines to-night."

"I? I'm no miner! What have I to do with the strike? If the men attack
that miserable little sneak of a superintendent, what have I to say?"

"Everything. You are not a miner, but they do as you say. They do not know
it is so, but you do. I want you to go out there; tell them--tell them
anything, only so they do not make the attack to-night."

"Nonsense. Even if they should do as I say, what's the odds? I've no love
for that man Hobart. He's been fighting me for years. He'll get no more
than he deserves. No, no, Nora. Girls mustn't meddle."

"You won't go?"

"No; ask me anything else than that."

"Then I'll tell you what I'll do. The National Guards are on their way
now. When they come, I'll give them all the information they wish. I know
who urged this on. I know who killed the Italian. Oh, I know lots of
things that I've kept to myself because my telling would harm you. But--"
She was excited. Whether she pretended this high state of emotion, or
whether it was real, was difficult to tell. She had flung open her coat.
The vivid coloring of her gown, her crimson cheeks and flashing eyes made
a brilliant bit of coloring in the dark room lighted by a solitary,
smoking oil-lamp. Her tones were clear and decisive.

"Why, Nora, listen to reason. How--"

"No, I will not listen to anything but your promise to go and stop that
mob. Listen to them yelling like a pack of hy