“Ivan,” they cried, pushing a Slav forward, and retreating into the shadows.
Bending over, Nora mentioned “Militia.” The word was magic. Then she grew impatient. “Why do you try to keep us here?” she exclaimed. “Didn’t Ketchomunoski fire two guns? Wasn’t that to let you know we would come this road and that you should let us pass? We are wasting time. I must reach my father with this message. Good night! Jefferies, drive on.”
The men made no effort to detain them as the carriage started. It was past one o’clock when they reached the top of the mountain and came to the outskirts of the town. “The Miners’ Rest” was less than a mile distant. But the horses were tired out. Jefferies could not get them out of a slow walk.
“We’ll go at once to ‘The Miners’ Rest,’” said Miss O’Day. “I’ll see my father there. If the miners are planning any trouble, they’ll be there, too.”
Driving into a little wood, Jefferies drew rein. Climbing down from his place, he took out a strap and tied the horses to a tree.
“They wouldn’t let us drive through town,” he explained. “The streets will be filled with the strikers. We’ll walk, keeping in the shadows. It’s a blessed good thing for us that it rains.”
He helped the girls to alight, then strode on ahead, skirting the edge of the wood.
“If you see me stop, then you stop,” he said. “Don’t come on until I say so. If you hear me talk to anyone, wait and don’t speak.”
Clasping hands, the girls slowly followed. The side of the road was filled with clods. The road itself was mud to the shoe tops. Many times they stumbled and almost fell. Only at intervals could they see the form of their guide.
When they reached the main street, Jefferies paused. It was filled with miners, each with his lantern. These lights helped Jefferies to determine his next move. He saw in which direction the crowd tended. The murmur of many voices could be heard; but there was no uproar.