The crowd yelled with mingled passion and triumph when it saw Gemmell. He slung his carbine easily over his shoulder and unbuttoned the holster of his revolver. On the boundary-line he met the mob, face to face.
"Out o' the way!" roared the crowd—and halted.
"Sorry, but this is the boundary," replied Gemmell coolly. He was forced to raise his voice. "Behind me is Canadian territory. You can't pass!"
These remarks produced a storm of hoots, laughs and jeers. The crowd began to advance again, intending to sweep Gemmell aside.
On the very edge of Canadian territory the crowd halted again, checked by their leader, a desperate-looking villain, who waved significantly toward the line of Police.
"Well, what you got to say?"
Turning, when the mob had halted and had fallen into silence, the leader challenged Gemmell.
"My orders," shouted Gemmell, in return, "are to halt you at the boundary. I have a big force of men, and a Maxim gun, that could clean up this pass in half a minute. Now, I don't want trouble. I want you fellows to have some sense and go home."
The leader of the mob placed himself in front of Gemmell, feet wide apart, hands on hips, and looked him up and down. "Say, kid," he demanded, "who th' hell d'you think you are? Who told you to stop us law-abidin' citizens?"
"Her Majesty the Queen!" said Gemmell.