"In here," said some of the group, "to stop them working."
"I guess not," observed the Californian. His tone was even genial.
"We'll see," retorted a leader, moving forward.
The mill-door was fast, but at this moment the bolts were loosed, and Scofield made his appearance.
"Addie," he commanded, sternly, "come in, and out of the muss! and you, too, Piper."
"You can send daughter in," answered Piper, indicating Addie, who—far from quailing—looked as serene and fresh as ever. "But I'm going to stand in front of this door. Now," he continued, with determination, fronting the rioters, "you leave the old man and his girl alone. If you don't you've got to fight me. One of your locomotives run me off the bridge t'other day and didn't kill me; and I guess you can't, either. I promise to corral the whole herd, if you try to come in here."
Some of the men showed defiance, but those nearest were in no hurry to attack. It had suddenly become apparent to them that their antagonist's shoulders were particularly square and rugged. Scofield wondered whether his champion knew what he was about; the Piper certainly seemed to be in possession of all his faculties.
The leaders began to confer.
As luck would have it, the owner of the mill, who had been absent, and was not aware of the immediate danger, just then came up. He had not seen the crowd until within a few yards. At once a threatening cry arose:
"Hounshell!"