Part 45 (1/2)

Brotherton. No one answered Mr. Brotherton, for the whiskey soon began to make the crowd noisy. But the leaders waited for the whiskey to make the crowd brave. The next moment, Van Dorn's automobile--the old one, not the new one--came chugging up. Grant, at the window, looked out and turned deathly sick. For he saw the puddler who had bullied him during the day get out of the car, and in the puddler's grasp was Kenyon--with white face, but not whimpering.

The men made way for the puddler, who hurried the boy into the saloon.

Grant did not speak, but stood unnerved and horror-stricken staring at the saloon door which had swallowed up the boy.

”Well, for G.o.d--” cried Brotherton.

”A screen--they're going to use the boy as a s.h.i.+eld--the d.a.m.n cowards!”

rasped Nathan Perry.

The little Welshman moaned. And the three men stood staring at Grant whose eyes did not s.h.i.+ft from the saloon door. He was rigid and his face, which trembled for a moment, set like molten bronze.

”If I surrender now, if they beat me here with anything less than my death, the whole work of years is gone--the long struggle of these men for their rights.” He spoke not to his companions, but through them to himself. ”I can't give up--not even for Kenyon,” he cried. ”Tom--Tom,”

Grant turned to the little Welshman. ”You stood by and heard d.i.c.k Bowman order Mugs to hold the shovel over my face! Did he shrink? Well, this cause is the life and death struggle of all the d.i.c.ks in the Valley--not for just this week, but for always.”

Below the crowd was hushed. Joe Calvin had appeared and was giving orders in a low tone. The hulking figure of the puddler could be seen picking out his men; he had three set off in a squad. The men in the room could see the big beads of sweat stand out on Grant's forehead.

”Kenyon--Kenyon,” he cried in agony. Then George Brotherton let out his bellow, ”Grant--look here--do you think I'm going to fire on--”

But the next minute the group at the window saw something that made even George Brotherton's bull voice stop. Into the drab street below flashed something all red. It was the Van Dorn motor car, the new one. But the red of the car was subdued beside the scarlet of the woman in the back seat--a woman without hat or coat, holding something in her arms. The men at the window could not see what those saw in the street; but they could see Joe Calvin fall back; could see the consternation on his face, could see him waving his hands to the crowd to clear the way. And then those at the window above saw Margaret Van Dorn rise in the car and they heard her call, ”Joe Calvin! Joe Calvin--” she screamed, ”bring my husband out from behind that wine room door--quick--quick,” she shrieked, ”quick, I say.”

The mob parted for her. The men at the hotel window could not see what she had in her arms. She made the driver wheel, drive to the opposite side of the street directly under the hotel window--directly in front of the besieged door. In another instant Van Dorn, ghastly with rage, came bare-headed out of the saloon. He ran across the street crying:

”You she devil, what do you--”

But he stopped without finis.h.i.+ng his sentence. The men above looked down at what he was looking at and saw a child--Tom Van Dorn's child, Lila, in the car.

”My G.o.d, Margaret--what does this mean?” he almost whispered in terror.

”It means,” returned the strident voice of the woman, ”that when you sent for your car and the driver told me he was going to Adamses--I knew why--from what you said, and now, by G.o.d,” she screamed, ”give me that boy--or this girl goes to the union men as their s.h.i.+eld.”

Van Dorn did not speak. His mouth seemed about to begin, but she stopped him, crying:

”And if you touch her I'll kill you both. And the child goes first.”

The woman had lost control of her voice. She swung a pistol toward the child.

”Give me that boy!” she shrieked, and Van Dorn, dumb and amazed, stood staring at her. ”Tell them to bring that boy before I count five: One, two,” she shouted, ”three--”

”Oh, Joe,” called Van Dorn as his whole body began to tremble, ”bring the Adams boy quick--here!” His voice broke into a shriek with nervous agitation and the word ”here” was uttered with a piercing yell, that made the crowd wince.

Calvin brought Kenyon out and sent him across the street. Grant opened a window and called out: ”Get into the car with Lila, Kenyon--please.”

The woman in the car cried: ”Grant, Grant, is that you up there? They were going to murder the boy, Grant. Do you want his child up there?”

She looked up and the arc light before the hotel revealed her tragic, shattered face--a wreck of a face, crumpled and all out of line and focus as the flickering glare of the arc-light fell upon it. ”Shall I send you his child?” she babbled hysterically, keeping the revolver pointed at Lila--”His child that he's silly about?”

Van Dorn started for her car, but Brotherton at the window bellowed across a gun sight: ”Move an inch and I'll shoot.”

Grant called down: ”Margaret, take Lila and Kenyon home, please.”