While they worked to obey him, Ambrose, flinging himself down at full length, watched with an eye at the crack of the door. He saw a group of men gradually gather at the corner of the store. They advanced, hesitated, fell back.

Finally, an authoritative figure showed itself. Ambrose guessed it to be Macfarlane, the policeman. He advanced boldly down the sidewalk, and took up a position across the road. The others straggled after him.

"Who is there?" challenged the leader. Ambrose distinguished the tunic and forage cap.

Ambrose rose, and opening the door wider, showed himself. "Ambrose Doane," he said. He warily watched the crowd, for any movement suggestive of raising a gun.

"You're under arrest!" cried the policeman.

"All right," said Ambrose coolly. "What charge?"

"Unlawful entry."

"You'll have to come and take me!"

"If you resist the law the consequences will be on your own head!"

"I accept the consequences."

"Stop the machinery!" cried the policeman. "If you destroy the mill we'll all starve!"

"The miller himself is running it," said Ambrose coolly. "With a gun to his head," he added, grinning over his shoulder. "I seized him in his bed and carried him here."

"Good man!" Greer, behind him, gratefully murmured.

"If you refuse to give yourself up I'll take you by force!" cried Macfarlane.

"Come ahead!" sang Ambrose. "I've got twenty-five men here. They have orders not to shoot, but if you open fire on us, the consequences will be on your head!"

"I'll do my duty!" shouted the policeman.

"Get your crowd together!" taunted Ambrose. "Lay your guns down, and come on over and put us out if you're men enough. We'll stand by the result."

The men behind Ambrose raised a cheer. The sound did not improve the morale of the other side. Even in the dark, the difference between the two crowds could be felt.

Ambrose's men were fighting for what they felt to be their rights; the men behind the policeman had no incentive--except their jobs.

Macfarlane paused to consult with another man--probably Gordon Strange.

The others talked in excited whispers, and circled on one another without making any forward movement. Messengers were despatched up and down the road.

Suddenly a petticoated figure came flying down the sidewalk from the store. Ambrose's heart leaped up, and then as suddenly calmed. He told himself grimly he was cured.

It was Colina. "What are you standing here for?" she cried pa.s.sionately. "Are you afraid? They are nothing but common robbers!

Go and put them out!"

No man moved.

"Fire on them!" cried Colina. "I order it! I take the responsibility."

They still hung back. Macfarlane could be seen attempting to expostulate with her.

"Don't speak to me!" cried Colina. "When you find robbers in your house you shoot them down! You're afraid! I will go myself!"

All in a breath she came flying across the road. Ambrose, surprised, fell back a step from the door. Before he could recover himself she stood in the middle of the shed facing them with blazing eyes.

She had risen hastily; her glorious hair was twisted in a loose coil and pinned insecurely; the habit she had thrown on was still open at the throat.

She had caught up a riding-crop; the knuckles that gripped it were white. Ambrose, admiring her in an odd, detached way, was reminded of Bellona, the G.o.ddess of anger.

"What does this mean?" she cried.

"What you see," said Ambrose coldly.

"Get out!" she cried. "All of you! I order it!"

The men cringed under her angry glances, and their eyes bolted. Only the sight of Ambrose standing firm, kept them in their places. Colina turned on Ambrose.

"You thief!" she cried with ringing scorn.

Ambrose coldly faced her out. Somehow he found it was his turn to smile. As a matter of fact he had suffered so much at her hands that he had become callous and strong enough to resist her.

Indeed there was a kind of bitter sweetness in this moment. She, who had humiliated him so many times was now powerless before him, let her rage as she might. He was only human.

Seeing the cold smile Colina felt as if the ground was suddenly cut from under her. Her cheeks paled, and the imperious blaze of her eyes was slowly dimmed.

When the bolt of pa.s.sion is launched without effect, a horrible blankness faces the pa.s.sionate one. The men seeing Colina falter breathed more freely. They were frankly terrified of her.

Colina fought on though her forces were in confusion. "Have you anything to say for yourself?" she demanded of Ambrose. "What are you doing on my father's property?"

"I have nothing to say," said Ambrose. "You know the situation as well as I."

Once more their eyes contended. Hers fell. She turned away from him.

When she came back it was with an altered air. "May I speak to you alone?" she asked in low tones.

"Please say it here," said Ambrose. "They cannot hear."

"My father--" she murmured with a deprecating air, "I am afraid this will kill him. I have locked him in his room. I don't know what he will do. Can't you stop until to-morrow?"

"If you will pledge yourself for him to finish grinding my grain to-morrow," said Ambrose.

"How can I pledge him?" she said pettishly. "I am not his master."

"Then we must grind on."

She was silent for a moment, looking on the ground. When she raised her eyes the look in them sent all the blood flying from his heart.

"Ambrose!" she murmured on the deep note he remembered so well. "Have you forgotten?"

He stared at her in a kind of horror.