Denny stepped forward.
“Boys,” he said, “hold on!”
They faced him, startled. The one who had spoken caught up a lantern and turned it on him.
“Denny!” he exclaimed. “Spyin’ on us!”
“I’m borough constable,” said Denny. “Destroying property has a penalty attached.” The men crowded round him, disturbed, angry, threatening.
“Well, here we are!” said the leader, scornfully. “Arrest us.”
“There won’t be any arrests if there’s no damage done, O’Brien,” Denny answered.
O’Brien turned and struck his mattock into the earth. “Show him a little damage, boys,” he urged. “Yank up the pipe.”
The others set to work, cursing at Denny meanwhile. The dirt flew; they flung it jeeringly at him.