WOMAN'S WEAPONS.
The steady hum of machinery was more effective to awaken the
inhabitants of the Fort than any scattered noises.
The sounds of movement began to be heard among the houses. Lights were
lit, and doors opened. No one who looked out of doors could mistake
what was going on, for a stream of sparks was now issuing from the
engine-house stack.
The first notice of attack came in a single shot from across the road.
A bullet sang through the doorway, flattening itself with a whang on
the iron wall. Those around the opening fell back.
Some one crashed the door to. Ambrose as quickly opened it, and
stooping low, peered out. He was in time to see a crouching figure
disappear around the corner of the store. Something in the bulk of it,
the neat outline gave him a clue.
"Strange, by gad!" he said to himself.
Aloud, Ambrose said: "The door must be open. We've got to see and hear
what they're up to. Let every man keep out of range. Make a wall of
the bags of grain on this side of the machine, and put the lanterns
behind it, so Greer will have light."
While they worked to obey him, Ambrose, flinging himself down at full
length, watched with an eye at the crack of the door. He saw a group
of men gradually gather at the corner of the store. They advanced,
hesitated, fell back.
Finally, an authoritative figure showed itself. Ambrose guessed it to
be Macfarlane, the policeman. He advanced boldly down the sidewalk,
and took up a position across the road. The others straggled after him.
"Who is there?" challenged the leader. Ambrose distinguished the tunic
and forage cap.
Ambrose rose, and opening the door wider, showed himself. "Ambrose
Doane," he said. He warily watched the crowd, for any movement
suggestive of raising a gun.
"You're under arrest!" cried the policeman.
"All right," said Ambrose coolly. "What charge?"
"Unlawful entry."
"You'll have to come and take me!"
"If you resist the law the consequences will be on your own head!"
"I accept the consequences."
"Stop the machinery!" cried the policeman. "If you destroy the mill
we'll all starve!"
"The miller himself is running it," said Ambrose coolly. "With a gun
to his head," he added, grinning over his shoulder. "I seized him in
his bed and carried him here."
"Good man!" Greer, behind him, gratefully murmured.
"If you refuse to give yourself up I'll take you by force!" cried
Macfarlane.
"Come ahead!" sang Ambrose. "I've got twenty-five men here. They have
orders not to shoot, but if you open fire on us, the consequences will
be on your head!"
"I'll do my duty!" shouted the policeman.
"Get your crowd together!" taunted Ambrose. "Lay your guns down, and
come on over and put us out if you're men enough. We'll stand by the
result."
The men behind Ambrose raised a cheer. The sound did not improve the
morale of the other side. Even in the dark, the difference between the
two crowds could be felt.
Ambrose's men were fighting for what they felt to be their rights; the
men behind the policeman had no incentive--except their jobs.
Macfarlane paused to consult with another man--probably Gordon Strange.
The others talked in excited whispers, and circled on one another
without making any forward movement. Messengers were despatched up and
down the road.
Suddenly a petticoated figure came flying down the sidewalk from the
store. Ambrose's heart leaped up, and then as suddenly calmed. He
told himself grimly he was cured.
It was Colina. "What are you standing here for?" she cried
passionately. "Are you afraid? They are nothing but common robbers!
Go and put them out!"
No man moved.
"Fire on them!" cried Colina. "I order it! I take the responsibility."
They still hung back. Macfarlane could be seen attempting to
expostulate with her.
"Don't speak to me!" cried Colina. "When you find robbers in your
house you shoot them down! You're afraid! I will go myself!"
All in a breath she came flying across the road. Ambrose, surprised,
fell back a step from the door. Before he could recover himself she
stood in the middle of the shed facing them with blazing eyes.
She had risen hastily; her glorious hair was twisted in a loose coil
and pinned insecurely; the habit she had thrown on was still open at
the throat.
She had caught up a riding-crop; the knuckles that gripped it were
white. Ambrose, admiring her in an odd, detached way, was reminded of
Bellona, the goddess of anger.
"What does this mean?" she cried.
"What you see," said Ambrose coldly.
"Get out!" she cried. "All of you! I order it!"
The men cringed under her angry glances, and their eyes bolted. Only
the sight of Ambrose standing firm, kept them in their places. Colina
turned on Ambrose.
"You thief!" she cried with ringing scorn.
Ambrose coldly faced her out. Somehow he found it was his turn to
smile. As a matter of fact he had suffered so much at her hands that
he had become callous and strong enough to resist her.
Indeed there was a kind of bitter sweetness in this moment. She, who
had humiliated him so many times was now powerless before him, let her
rage as she might. He was only human.
Seeing the cold smile Colina felt as if the ground was suddenly cut
from under her. Her cheeks paled, and the imperious blaze of her eyes
was slowly dimmed.
When the bolt of passion is launched without effect, a horrible
blankness faces the passionate one. The men seeing Colina falter
breathed more freely. They were frankly terrified of her.
Colina fought on though her forces were in confusion. "Have you
anything to say for yourself?" she demanded of Ambrose. "What are you
doing on my father's property?"
"I have nothing to say," said Ambrose. "You know the situation as well
as I."
Once more their eyes contended. Hers fell. She turned away from him.
When she came back it was with an altered air. "May I speak to you
alone?" she asked in low tones.
"Please say it here," said Ambrose. "They cannot hear."
"My father--" she murmured with a deprecating air, "I am afraid this
will kill him. I have locked him in his room. I don't know what he
will do. Can't you stop until to-morrow?"
"If you will pledge yourself for him to finish grinding my grain
to-morrow," said Ambrose.
"How can I pledge him?" she said pettishly. "I am not his master."
"Then we must grind on."
She was silent for a moment, looking on the ground. When she raised
her eyes the look in them sent all the blood flying from his heart.
"Ambrose!" she murmured on the deep note he remembered so well. "Have
you forgotten?"
He stared at her in a kind of horror.
"How can you be so hard to me?" she murmured.
She overdid it. Behind the intoxicating, soft appeal of her eyes, he
perceived a dangerous glitter, and steeled himself.
"Come outside a moment," she whispered, turning up her face a little.
The unregenerate man in him leaped to accept what she offered and still
hold firm. If she chose to play that game let her take the
consequences? His more generous self held back. Somehow he realized
that the humiliation would almost kill her--later.
"It is too late," he said coldly.
This in itself was a humiliation the proud Colina could not have
conceived herself living after. From between narrowed lids she shot
him a glance of the purest hate, and quickly turned away.
The riding crop switched the air like the tail of an angry cat. There
was a silence. All watched to see what she would do next.
Meanwhile the mill was grinding smoothly. The young miller was hidden
from Colina by the barricade of grain bags. Finally she looked over
the top and saw him attending the machine.
"Greer!" she exclaimed in surprise.
The boy started, and turned a pair of stricken eyes in her direction.
His ruddy cheeks paled a little. Manifestly she wielded a power over
him too.
"Are you against me?" she murmured sadly.
This was the same tone she had just used to Ambrose. His lip curled.
"He has to do what I tell him or be knocked on the head," he said
quickly.
Colina ignored this. "You could fight for me if you would," she
murmured to the boy.
A hot little flame of jealousy scorched Ambrose's breast. He laughed
jeeringly. "Who's next?" he cried.
Colina, not looking at him, drew a baleful breath between her teeth.
Suddenly she turned, and with hanging head slowly made her way toward
the door.
Ambrose thought she was beaten, and a swift wave of compassion almost
unmanned him. He abruptly turned away. He could stand anything but to
see Colina defeated and grieving. He clenched his teeth to keep from
crying out to her.
She had another card to play. She stopped at the door, and looked
about through her lashes to see if the way out was clear.
"Duncan!" she softly cried. The word was accompanied by a dazzling
smile of invitation.
The boy dropped his wrench as if he had been shot, and vaulting over
the grain bags, was out through the door after her before any one could
stop him.