He had that electric force which sways the multitude against all reason.
Single-handed, he gripped them with colossal assurance. They shrank from
the flame of his wrath like beaten dogs.

"And before we deal with him," he went on, "there's someone else to be
reckoned with. And that's Harley. Does anyone know where Harley is?"

"What do you want with Harley?" asked Benson, glad of this diversion.

"Oh, just to tell him what I think of him, and then--to kick him out!"
With curt contempt Warden threw his answer. "He's a traitor and a
skunk--smuggles spirits one minute and goes to the police to sell his
chums the next; then back to his chums again to sell the police. I know.
I've been watching him for some time, the cur. He'd shoot me if he
dared."

"He'd better!" yelled a huge miner in the middle of the crowd.

Warden laughed. "That you, Nixon? Come over here! I've got something to
tell you--and the other boys. It's the story of this blasted mine." He
turned suddenly to the girl who still stood behind him in the lighted
doorway. "Miss Burton, I'd like you to hear it too. Shut the door and
stand by me!"

Her shining eyes were on his face. She obeyed him mutely, with a
submission as unquestioning as that of the rough crowd in front of them.

Very gently he took the revolver from her, drew one out of his own pocket
also, and handed both to the big man called Nixon who had come to his
side.