rs poured a
tumultuous crowd of men, women, and children, who surrounded the little
party in a menacing manner, while their leader, a stalwart fellow,
called Brennan, seized John by the arm, and, shaking a sledge-hammer
fist in his face, inquired what he meant by coming to "spy round an
honest man's house, and make game of his betters?"

It was in vain that John attempted to disabuse the mind of his assailant
of this view of his visit to the old mine; and indeed his argument could
not even have been heard, as Brennan was now violently reiterating,--

"Tak' yer coorse, thin! Why don't ye tak' yer coorse?"

The advice was sensible, and the party left to themselves would
undoubtedly have followed it; in fact, the females of the party had
already taken their "coorse" along the homeward path as fast as their
feet would carry them, excepting Miselle, who contented herself with
stepping behind a great pine-tree, and watching thence this new
development of human nature.

From angry words the miners were not long in proceeding to blows, and a
short joust ensued, in which Williams and John gallantly held the lists
against six or eight assailants, who would have been more dangerous, had
they not been all day celebrating the wedding of one of their number.
Suddenly, however, the leader of the colliers darted by John, who was
opposing him, and pounced upon poor Belle Miller, who with her
companions had paused at a little distance to give vent to their
feelings in a chorus of dismal shrieks. Whether these irritated Mr.
Brennan's weakened nerves, or whether he had merely the savage instinct
of reaching the strong through the weak, cannot be certainly known; but
the fact of her forcible capture was rendered sufficiently obvious by
the cries that rent the air, and the heart of the young man John, who,
neglecting his own safety in an attempt at rescue, received a stunning
blow from his opponent, and fell bleeding to the earth.

Satisfied with the result of his experiment, Brennan, leaving his
captive in custody of his own party, attempted another raid upon the
defenceless flock; but this time Friend Williams, summoned by the voice
of his wife, darted to her rescue, and, with a happy blow, laid the
giant upon his back, where he lay for some moments admiring the evening
sky.

Brave as were the two knights, however, and manifest as was the right,
Victory would probably have "perched upon the banners of the strongest
battalions," had