That the light was seen by the crowd as well, was evidenced by the renewed tumult, and a well-aimed stone came through the window and passing within an inch of Henri's head, struck Ashgrave on the arm. He sprang to the stairway and carried, rather than led, Amanda to the upper floor. When he returned, the room was again in darkness. Another stone had struck

over the candle, and the shouting outside was redoubled. "Go upstairs," he said sharply. "I'll deal with the gang."

He felt, rather than heard, the boy's objection, and spoke almost gently, as he repeated the order:

"You 're afraid," he added. "You can't help it; but nobody who 's afraid is going to be any good here." Ashgrave lighted two candles and set them on the table near the broken windows. He moved with a quiet method that surprised himself to a knowledge of his conception of the seriousness of the situation. Anger, the mere temporary passion of a sudden offence, was wanting, and he found himself facing the affair as if it had nothing of personal weight. As his form appeared before the windows, a louder yell went up from the mob and through it he heard the demand:

"The Canuck! Turn out the Canuck! Give us the Papist! Down with Rome!"

He raised the window, and a silence fell on the mass waiting for him to speak, His voice came clear and without a tremor:

"What does this mean? What right have you to destroy my house and property?"

He paused, and instantly a babel of voices took up the cry, demanding the boy and denouncing Popery. He held up his hand and they stopped again to hear him.

"I can't tell a word you 're saying. Let Buck Miller

there come forward and tell me, while the rest of you hold your tongues."

Buck Miller, thus singled out, slunk into the rear of the crowd. He had a sense that it might sometime go hard with somebody if Ashgrave should care to make reprisals, and he did not relish notoriety. But the crowd was not to be denied, and took up the yell:

"Tell him Buck. Stand up like a man an' tell him,” and a lane was opened through which he was forced.

He stood out, tall and lank, shuffling his feet and twisting his hands, and mouthed his message:

"The pahson ses, es this Canuck feller thet works fur you's a Papist.”

At this the crowd set up a yell, and Ashgrave had to stop them before Miller could go on. He was fighting for time, partly because he thought at the worst help must come, and partly because he saw that it would take skill and shrewdness to save his property, and in this he knew delay to be on his side.

"The pahson, he ses, a Papist is a son of a harlot, an' thet we must drive him out. He ses we 'll all go to hell, ef we don't. Ye hain't got no more right to bring a Papist into town 'n you hev to bring the hoof-pest or glanders. We hain't goin' to hev it, an' we want ye to turn him over to us, an' we 'll chuck him into the hosspond or du su'thin' with him. We hain't goin' to hev no sons o' harlots here, an' we hain't going to hev religion spiled by no sech things as Papists!"

He had waxed bold toward the last, and his final words, delivered in the tone of an ultimatum, were greeted with a loud yell of approbation. Then the mob waited to hear Ashgrave, observant of the rights which town-meeting had taught them.

"So you're after Henri, are you?" he asked.

"Yas, an' we 're goin' to hev him. Pitch him out, we 'll 'tend to him!"

"But he's my hired man."

"Git another! You hain't no right to hire Papists. "He works for me and has just as much right here as you have more 'n you 've got on my farm. "You're a liar!" came from the back of the crowd, and a stone was thrown, hitting the house.

"I've a right to hire whom I please on my farm," went on Ashgrave, setting his teeth hard against the anger within him, which reared its head and threatened discomfiture. "He's a quiet, civil, hard-working fellow, honest as the day and decent to everybody."

"He's a Papist; he's from Rome; he's a heathen; he wants to destroy the Protestants;" the yells came from the crowd, right and left.

"He lives here and he 'll stay here," retorted Ashgrave. "Nobody but a coward would turn him over to a gang like you."

A perfect pandemonium burst forth at this, and stones were hurled against the house, some of which went through the windows, one or two striking Ashgrave himself. He stood looking at them waiting for silence, feeling the terror of the girl whom he had brought to this outbreak of hell, and planning some way to provide for her safety.

When the tumult subsided a little, he again raised his hand, which was a signal they obeyed.

"Is this all you want the Canuck?"

"Yas! Turn him out an' we 'll go away. The Canuck! the Canuck! give us the 'tarnal critter."

"Well, you can't have him." Ashgrave spoke slowly so that every one heard his full words. "He's my man, and here he stays. This is my house and my farm and

you 're trespassers. You'll have to kill me before you touch a hair of his, and before that, somebody 'll get hurt. Now I order you to get off this farm and get off quick. I've heard you, and I 've got only one thing to say, and that is get, and get quick."

Rage and defiance were in the yell that greeted this declaration. He felt the difference to all previous demonstrations. In those there had been, in spite of the underlying purpose, something of a disposition to levity; now it was pure rage and beastly anger that rang out. Even the stones that were thrown seemed to come with a greater force. He turned again to still them, but had lost control, and they simply yelled anew as he raised his hand.

Then some one shouted:

“We 'll take him then!" and there was a rush bodily for the house.

CHAPTER XXXIX

A

THE ATTACK ON THE HOUSE

SHGRAVE had foreseen and provided for this posibility. At the first movement, he reached down and, seizing a musket which stood by the window, leveled it at them. The foremost men and boys came to a dead halt, and the rearward ones piled upon them in their headlong haste. A sudden silence fell on the throng. Ashgrave seized the opportunity to speak again, still keeping his musket at shoulder.

"I'm not saying anything," he said, "but you know whether I can shoot. The law gives me the right to defend my house, and if it did n't, I'd defend it all the Are Tom and Frank Seagrave in that crowd?" No one answered in words, but the turning of many heads told him what he wanted to know.

same.

"I want them to come here."

There was an evident attempt to push them forward, and as evident a purpose on their part to hold back. Even muttered words of refusal could be heard.

"I want to say something to them," Ashgrave said quietly. "I'll not touch them, and I'll let them go again; but I must speak with them."

"Don't you do it!" somebody shouted. "He's just gaffin' you;" and at this yells broke out anew and a few stones were thrown, but the crowd kept at a respectful distance from the steadily pointed musket.

Matters were now at a tension which it was impossible to maintain, and Ashgrave again turned to the question