Darcy sent Andrew, the bell-boy, to the police-station, and two men were detailed. The workmen were allowed to go home peaceably, except a little jeering at Keppler's. They heard then the trains had been stopped on the two roads leading out of Yerbury. The whole world seemed to be going crazy.

Darcy and Cameron remained in the mill that night until almost ten: then the latter went home, and Darcy thought he would go for Ben Hay. The streets of Yerbury had presented a very peculiar aspect that evening, something like a beleaguered town. Groups of men and boys collected on the corners, or wended their way through the streets with low, ominous mutterings. People barred their doors and locked their windows, though it was a hot summer night. Some women were abroad: but they were of the rougher sort, and now and then their shrill voices rose on the air in derision or vituperation. Still there were no overt acts of violence, and at ten everybody began to breathe more freely.

The coffee-house had been shut up that evening: it was deemed advisable.

Darcy went round to the side-door, and was admitted. Hay and three other workmen were within. They had been figuring up possible and probable profits by the end of the five years, and looked very well satisfied.

"There's a sort of hope and expectation about it," said one of the men, "that kind of stirs and warms a body. And when you come to count lost time, and fluctuation in wages, it makes a pretty even thing, after all!

In '73 I worked in a shoddy-mill that _had_ been making money hand over fist,--eleven hours a day,--not a man of us made more than five dollars a week. Some poor fellows with families earned only three. You've never been as hard up as that! G.o.d only knows how they lived: it's beyond my guessing!"

"And if that was co-operation, how the system would be blamed!"

exclaimed Ben Hay. "I declare, it makes me madder than a hen in a fence--I've caught that of Cameron," laughingly,--"to hear the things people have said about us. They're forever blathering about fair play--I wish they'd give a little, as well as take all. Wait till we've come to the end, say I, before they tell what we can do, or what we can't or sha'n't or won't!"

There was a tramp in the street. The startled eyes studied one another.

Then a shuffling and muttering, and a knock at the door.

No one stirred but Mrs. Connelly, who threw up her hands, and cried, "The saints protect us!"

"Earthly saints, Mother Connelly,--this kind," said Ben Hay with gay re-a.s.surance, doubling his fist, and baring his brawny arm.

The pounding increased. Rose ran down stairs wild with affright, followed by her sister. The boys fortunately were asleep in the back chambers.

"Let us in, Mother Connelly: we want some bread and b.u.t.ter!" shouted a voice.

"Cakes and yale!"

"Pretzel and zwei lager!"

"A sup of the craythur!"

"A dhrop of whiskey to warrum us this could night! Av yees the heart av a sthone, Kit Connelly?"

A roar of laughter succeeded this.

"Go away, it will be better for you," declared Ben Hay.

"Come out here, Hay, and fight like a man! Don't skulk behind a woman's petticoats!"

There was a terrific onslaught at the door. It creaked and groaned, and was succeeded by a volley of oaths and imprecations. Rose began to cry, and the youngest girl came screaming down the stairs.

Darcy had sent a man out of the back way for policemen. Hay and the two other men mounted guard. Again the door shivered and creaked: then it flew open, bolts, locks, and hinges having given way in a ma.s.s of splinters.

Like a flash the men were on their a.s.sailants. The mob had not expected this. Right and left valorous blows were dealt, and two or three burly fellows were laid low. Some nearer sober, and more cowardly, took to their heels. Two men fought like tigers; and once Ben Hay came near getting the worst; but, by the time the dilatory guards of peace arrived, there was only a pile of bruised and battered bodies lying on the door-step.

"A pretty tough scrimmage!" was the comment. "Weren't you a little hard on these fellows?"

"A man has a right to defend his own life and his own nose," said Ben Hay decisively. "His life _may_ be useful, his nose _is_ ornamental when it is a handsome one like mine."

What with drunkenness and the drubbing, two of the ruffians were unable to walk. Two others were marched off under the escort of the officers, the disabled sent for, and a guard detached to protect Mrs. Connelly's house. When everybody had been quieted, Jack took a tour down to the mills. Some poor object was huddled up in the corner of the main stoop.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Darcy.

"Oh, Mr. Darcy, don't strike me! I'm Bart Kane. I've had enough of this night, and I crawled here"--

The boy began to sob and talk brokenly. He lifted his face in the moonlight. It was ghastly; one eye swollen shut, and purple-black, and streaks of blood and dirt over it; the clothing torn, the throat bare.

"Were you down there at Connelly's?"

"I warn't nowhere. It was along o' father: he comed home drunk."

Barton Kane was a mill-boy, about nineteen now. Darcy's first feeling had been one of outrage and anger, but he cooled suddenly.

"Tell me, my lad," in a kindly tone, taking the shivering fingers in his.

"You see, Mr. Darcy, father'd been out along of the hatters all day, gettin' more and more rum in him. He said on Sunday, as how't I should strike; but they went to work here, and I worked with 'em. When I went home, mother, she gev me my supper, and ses she, 'Keep out o' sight, lad, happen thy dad's powerful mad wi' thee!' So I went to bed. But about nine he comed home, and tore up the house wi' his tantrums, and then lathered me. He called me a rat, and a sneak, and a turn-coat, and kicked me out o' the house, and threw my traps to me. Then afore I was fairly dressed he at me again, and said if ever I darkened the door, he'd murder me! I strayed round, afeared of everybody, and crawled up here. 'Pears like every bone in my body is broke, and my eye, he do hurt so!"

With that Barton Kane broke out sobbing again, and clung to Jack Darcy's knees.

"My poor lad!" the tone was infinitely tender. "Can you walk a little way, to Kit Connelly's? You can be nursed up there, and go to bed peaceably. Come, Barton, my boy, you are the hero of Hope Mills. When this is over, we shall have to give you a medal."

He put his strong arm around the shivering body, and led him back to a kindly shelter.

"Hay, Mrs. Connelly, and all of you: here's a lad that has been half-killed for standing by his colors to-day. Look here, Armstrong, would you mind going for Dr. Maverick? this poor chap needs some patching-up. And, Kit, give me some water and a napkin: we'll get his face a little cool and clean."

"Let me do it, Mr. Darcy. Sure, I've boys of my own, and am used to it.

Oh, the poor, poor lad!"

Barton told his story over again. He was weak and hysterical now, and they made him a shake-down on the floor until the doctor came.

"Now I'll start on my inspection-tour again," said Darcy, turning away.

"We are all likely to make a night of it."

He thought he would go around before he went in to see the watchmen: they had placed a force on guard quietly. He had just turned the second corner, when he saw a man jump from the high fence, and lie for an instant as if stunned. He hastened on, but the man sprang up and ran down the dark side of the street. His first impulse was to follow; then it struck him as strange that the dog gave no alarm. He had a gate-key in his pocket, and unlocked it at once.

"Bruno!" he called, "Bruno, good fellow, come here."

There was not a sound. The ominous silence thrilled Jack.

"Bruno!"

Hark! a curious crackling or sweep of wind, and smoky smell. He ran round to the rear. Close up against the back door, quite out of the moonlight, something was piled. Forked tongues of flame were shooting out of it everywhere. He seized the chain attached to the factory-bell, and rang it rapidly. There was a window thrown up, and a voice called.

"Fire! fire!" he shouted. "Turn on the hose,--the lower back door."

The flames streamed up fiercely now. It was plain that the mound had been saturated with kerosene.

Daly hurried down, and opened a door. "Hurd and Byrnes are at the buckets and hose," he cried. "Where is it? O Mr. Darcy!"

"Quick, quick!" shouted Jack, rushing by him.