ed, "beer and froth, and
nothing else."

"Nothing else! I hope that is a true word, Saunders, that's all. I
mislike the looks of some of those fellows."

"Why, to judge from all the whispers we hear," the overlooker
commented, "we are like enough to get our backs well hazelled before
long."

George gave a word of caution to the pitmen when they left work that
afternoon.

"There are sure to be insults," he said, "but take no notice, and keep
out of harm's way."

But the fates were against George and his pit that day. Hardly had the
little gang of Fairburn colliers turned the corner of the lane when
they were met by an excited mob carrying a huge sheet on which was
rudely printed in big characters, "Down with all Whigs!"

"An insult to the gaffer, that's as plain as the nose on a man's
face," cried one of the Fairburn fellows, and without more ado, he
dashed forward and made a grab at the offending canvas. He was
forestalled, however, a man of the opposing party deftly tripping him
up and sending him sprawling into the mud. Before the unlucky pitman
could rise the whole mob had surged over him, amidst shrieks of
laughter.

On this the Fairburn men threw all George's cautions to the winds, and
charged the mob. Instantly a hot fight was going on around the big
banner. Even old Saunders, the overlooker, caught one of the
opposition gang by the collar, crying, "Ye loons, what for are ye
coming our way again? Ye ha' been once to-day, wi' your jibes and
jeers; isn't that enough?"

"Jibes and jeers, old lad! Eh, there'll happen be mair than that afore
bedtime."

Meanwhile there was rough work around the banner. In spite of the
efforts of the bearers and their friends to protect the canvas, one of
the Fairburn men had got a grip of it, and in a second the thing had
been torn from its supporting poles, amid mingled cheers and
execrations. The canvas itself was pulled hither and thither by the
opposing gangs, each striving to retain possession of it. Bit by bit
the banner was torn to pieces, the men fighting savagely for even the
smallest shred of it, each man pocketing his piece as a trophy, till
at length there was nothing of the thing left visible.

Cries of, "On to the pit wi' ye, lads!" were by this time plentiful,
and with a dash the now much augmented mob surged in that direction.
Under old Saunders the Fairburn men disputed every yard of the way,
but they were entirely outnumbered, and were slowly but surely