The engineer stared at the set face. His chief's eyes were like polished steel, and his jaw thrust out. There was no fear here.
"Stay inside, sir. They'll kill you."
The front rank caught sight of the erect figure. Then silence fell over them and spread slowly through the dark-browed multitude, Clark raised an imperative finger. The gates opened a fraction, and in front of them stood the man in whom the rioters perceived the head of their present world.
"I want to tell you that your money is coming, and that I stay here till you are paid," rang the clear voice.
For an instant there came no answer, but presently from the rear ranks rose again a bull-like roar.
"You tell us that last week."
Followed a murmur that ran through the packed mass of broad shoulders.
"I tell you again—and it's true!"
For reply, a short iron bolt came hurtling through the air. It took Clark on the cheek. He seemed not to feel it, but stood undaunted, while a trickle of blood crept down his smooth face. The sight of it seemed to rouse some latent fury in the mob, and a deep growl sounded ominously. He felt himself jerked suddenly back, and Belding and Baudette jumped in front of him. The woodsman balanced a great shining axe, and the engineer's automatic gleamed dully.
"Get inside, sir, quick!"