"How's the Empire going to take it?" asked another.
Sewell smiled. "Patiently, I think. That is, if we go just far enough and know when to stop. They move slowly in England—I was born there—and I'm not sure they're very much quicker in Ottawa. In fact, they rather like an energetic protest, and you very seldom get anything without it. Once we show we're in earnest they'll send over a special commissioner with instructions to make any concessions he thinks will please us."
"There are Slavin and his troopers to consider," said the man who had spoken first. "They're not going to sit still, and if any of them got hurt during the proceedings it's quite likely we might be visited by a column of Canadian militia."
Others commenced to speak—two or three together, in fact—but Sewell raised his hand.
"That eventuality will have to be carefully guarded against," he said. "Slavin seems to be a man of ability and sense, and he would never pit his handful of troopers against a hundred men. In the meanwhile, everything depends on secrecy, and no move must be made until you are sure of everybody. I will answer for the Green River men. I am going back there shortly."
Then they put their heads together to consider a scheme, and there was only a low hum of voices until Hobson stood up suddenly. A tramp of feet and a sharp order rose from outside.
"Slavin and the troopers!" he said. "We don't want him to know who's here. Get out through the roof, boys. Put the lamp out."
It was done, and while a sound of ripping and scrambling became audible in the black darkness Hobson touched Sewell's arm.
"You and I have got to see it out. I guess he's sure of us," he said.
In another moment or two somebody beat upon the door, and getting no answer drove it open. Then a sulphur match sputtered, and the trooper who stood in the entrance turned to a man behind him.