liked his entire freedom from vain show and swagger, and his
pleasant-spoken manner.

"What have we in the way of weapons, lads?" he asked, taking a hasty
glance round the dimly-lit shed. Darkness was coming on apace even
outside; within the shed the men had to grope their way about.

There was very little that would serve, except a number of pickaxes, a
few shovels, and two or three hayforks belonging to the stables. These
were served out, and then one man found the master's gun, with a
powder-flask and a handful of sparrow shot.

"Better let me have that," said George, quietly relieving the man of
the weapon, the old overlooker approving with a "Aye, that's right;
you'll keep a cooler head than Tom there."

The mob outside surged down on the door in force, and with loud yells.
The door stood the shock, and the major part of the attackers in a
trice turned their attention to the smaller buildings dotted here and
there about the pit's mouth. One by one these sheds were pulled to
pieces, to the ever-increasing delight of the mob. George and his men
were powerless to stop the destruction.

"We must not venture out," the boy said, "unless the scoundrels turn
their attention to the windlasses and the gear."

So his men had to grind their teeth in rage and look on helplessly.

As was expected, the rioters presently came back to the big shed, one
of them, evidently the leader, advancing with a felling-axe.