Pritchen was taken by surprise, it was easy to see that. He had reckoned on a disturbance, but had not expected the sudden action of Caribou Sol. Inwardly he cursed his men for their slowness in stirring up the meeting. He wished to remain in the background in order to further his future designs. But with this towering form confronting him matters assumed a different aspect. He shrunk back from those blazing eyes, but only for an instant. It would not do to show any sign of weakening in the presence of the miners.
"To h— with you!" he cried. "Do you think I'm a dog? I mean all I give, and I give more than words."
Quick as lightning his hand slipped to his hip pocket, a revolver flashed for an instant in sight, and then whirled through the room to strike heavily against the opposite wall, while Pritchen staggered back, and sank heavily to the floor, felled like an ox by one blow of Caribou Sol's clenched fist.
Instantly an uproar arose. Pritchen's followers with a cry of rage surged forward and bore down upon the gray-haired giant, while the rest of the men sprang to his assistance.
So quickly had everything taken place that Keith stood dumbfounded. He had noticed the presence of Pritchen and his gang, and felt rather uneasy as to their purpose in attending. But as time passed and nothing happened he hoped that the debate would end quietly. Now, instead of peace, a general fight was on. Blows were being exchanged, cries and curses were ringing through the room. It must be stopped. He leaped over the benches and besought the assailants to desist, but his voice was drowned in the general clamour.
"Oh, God," he mentally prayed, "help me, tell me what to do to stop these brutes!"
And even then his prayer was answered. The commotion gradually subsided. The men, some with faces scratched and bleeding, were staring in one direction as if they saw a ghost. Keith looked, too, and instead of a ghost he beheld the trembling form of Constance Radhurst.
In the moment of excitement he had forgotten her, and when he saw her standing there on the rude platform before the curtain, in the presence of those rough men, he was tempted to rush up and lead her gently away. A groan almost escaped his lips. What a different ending to the debate from the one he had expected. It had been planned that Constance should appear, but only as a pleasant surprise, to sing some old songs when the debate was over. He had taken a step or two towards the platform, when in a clear, rich voice Constance began to sing:
"Come, sing once more to-night, my lads,
Come, sing some old refrain,
Of love, of home, of childhood days,
And live them o'er again.
Chorus: