"He started with us," cried Nolan. "He wanted to go back to be with his boy, but we showed him he'd never get through. Those brutes would head him off and kick his life out. He must have—Good God, Mr. Geordie! Look where he lies!"
And then they saw that the old plainsman, in his eagerness to make a way back to his possibly dying son, had quit the rush when half-way up, had turned eastward and sought a foot-path down the mountain-side, had found it guarded, like the rest, by a gang that yelled savage welcome at sight of him. Then, too late, he had turned again, had managed to run some fifty yards along the jagged slope, when a shot from a well-aimed rifle laid him low. With a leg broken just above the knee, poor Shiner went down, and without so much as a word, with only one glance into each other's eyes, Long Nolan and Geordie swooped down to the rescue.
Breasting the hill fifty yards below him came the heaving throng of rioters, few of them, luckily, with fire-arms, but all bent on vengeance. Darting downhill to Shiner came the old and the new of the regiment he had known for years and swore by to the end—Nolan, its oldest sergeant when discharged; Graham, its youngest subaltern when so recently commissioned. But, old and new, they were one in purpose and in spirit. The trained muscles, the lithe young limbs of the new bore him bounding down the slope in half the time it took the elder. Shiner lay facing the coming throng, grim hate in his eyes and revolver in hand. In the fury of yells that arose he never heard the shout of encouragement from above. Geordie was bending over him, had seized him by the arm, was slinging him on his broad young back before ever Shiner saw the face of his rescuer, and Geordie, with his helpless burden, was stumbling up the height again before Nolan could join and aid him.
By that time the peering guardians of the office had caught sight of the cause of the pandemonium of howls and curses from below, and the onward rush was stayed by the sound of shots from the hill and bullets whistling overhead. Yet only for a moment. Bullets sent downhill almost always fly high, and finding this to be so the mob took courage and came on again, those who had guns or revolvers shooting frantically up the slope, splintering rocks and spattering dirt as they bit at the heels of the rescuers. It was a desperate, do or die, neck or nothing, bit of daring and devotion—Nolan's third and Geordie's first experience in just such a feat. But the blood of the Graemes was up, and the younger soldier was not to be outdone by the old. The guards at the office burst into a cheer as the two came staggering up to the level, with poor Shiner groaning between them, and then quick work and hot was needed, for the mob came fierce on their trail.
"There's more Winchesters there in the gun-rack," shouted Cawker, as Shiner was laid on a bunk in a back room. "They'll be all round us here in a minute."
"Aim low and pick out the leaders, d'ye hear?" panted Nolan. "Don't let 'em get within reach of the buildings, whatever you do. They'll burn 'em over our heads. Let me have your loop-hole, you!" he ordered a young fellow, whose lips were blue with excitement and dread. "Go sit by Shiner and give him water till I spoil a few of these voters." And the presence of the veteran, the confident ring of his voice, seemed to lend instant courage to the defence.
And courage, cool courage and grit, were needed, for the situation was difficult, if not, indeed, desperate. With any skilled leader to direct the mob, the refuge sought by the defence would already have been ruined. The office building, made of hewn logs laid horizontally and with possible view of defence, had been placed at the brow of the slope on one side and near the mouth of the mine on the other. Later, however, rude structures of unplaned pine sprung up—compressor-plant, blacksmith-shop, and the like—about it, no one of them strong enough to serve as a fort, and all of them a menace now because they screened the approaches on two sides and could be fired in a dozen places.
And now that Graham and Nolan were here to aid, this defect was noticed at once.
"This won't do at all, Mr. Cawker," said Graham, as he sprung the lever of a new Winchester and glanced into the chamber. "We'll be surrounded and burned out of here in ten minutes. We've got to occupy those others, too."
Cawker stared at the "young feller" with angering eyes. A moment agone and he was praising his daring, but that astonishing tone of authority nettled him. What business had a railway fireman telling him, a mine manager, what to do in case of a row?