when that's the case. Still,
we mun fight it out."

"I don't want to back out from anything," said Paul; "but, as a matter
of fact, I did my best to keep the chaps from going up to Wilson's
mill."

"That may be," replied the secretary, "but the general opinion is that
thou wert the leader of th' gang, and we shall have rare hard job to
get thee off, whatever happens to the rest. Still, we think none the
worse of thee, lad, and if thou hast got to go to quod, thou shalt have
a rare big home-coming when thou comes out. We'll have bands of music
and a big feed, and all that sort of thing."

"Who have you got to defend us?" said Paul.

"Eh, well, we have got Sutcliffe, our own lawyer, and he's briefed
Robson, the barrister."

"Is Robson a good man?" asked Paul.

"Good! why he's got off more of our chaps than any other man. Still,
it looks black, because the case is clear agin us. There is no doubt
the chaps were up to mischief, they got into Wilson's mill, and
there'll be some turncoats in the town who'll say as 'ow they knaw that
they meant to break the machinery. Then there's the two bobbies and
Wilson's tackler, all of them i' bed, and the doctor'll be there to
give evidence. There's no getting out of that."

When he had gone, Paul thought over the whole case very seriously.
What part should he play? He knew he could bring witnesses to prove
that he had done his best to dissuade the lads from their act of
violence, but, by so doing, should he be playing the game? He wanted
to be loyal to his companions, even while he was innocent of willingly
acting with them. It was rather a delicate point. If he failed to
speak he would be regarded as a kind of ringleader of the gang. If, on
the other hand, he told the truth, and brought witnesses to attest to
what he had to say, he would be looked upon as a kind of sneak.

When the day of trial came, therefore, he was not in an enviable frame
of mind. He knew that hundreds of eyes would be upon him, and that he
would have a very undesirable publicity. Only a few weeks before the
strike he had been spoken of as a possible candidate for the town
council, and he, young as he was, had rejoiced in the thought. He had
pictured himself speaking at public meetings and receiving the votes of
the townspeople; he saw himself, too, elected at the head of the poll,
and having a seat in the council chamber among the most prominent men
in the town. But now his publicity wou