"What is it they're chanting?"
"It's Luther's hymn, A Mighty Fortress, Mister Johnny."
"Rather appropriate, what? We'd better get some more work benches against those doors. They're sagging."
As the unintelligible hymn reached its climax the doors caved inward despite Jonathan's best efforts. The benches were pushed aside. The mob poured in.
It might have ended there, with the creatures going quietly to work, except for the fact that the whole place was in disorder. For a moment the workers milled sullenly about, looking for their accustomed tools. Then Jock spotted the two intruders.
"He!" shouted the man-monster, pointing wildly and shaking his matted hair. "He kill Jo. He shut doors. He laugh at law."
The ragged men and women shifted their bare feet uncertainly. For a few seconds Jock seemed at a loss, groping for words. Then a look of cunning overspread his hideous face.
"He shut doors again," yelled the mad overseer. "He burn down plant. We no can work. Kill him. Kill! Kill!"
This time Jock got the response he had been seeking. The workers—more than 500 of them—surged forward, snarling deep in their throats.
Jonathan took a step toward the mob but Tom pulled him back. "Wait, Mister Johnny. They know me. If anybody can check them, I can."