'Harness 'em together with cords, and drag 'em along like beasts o' burden in the face and eyes o' London!' 'Stick 'em up on spikes!' 'Hoist 'em on to the lamp-posts!' 'Hold 'em head down'ards in a horse-trough!' 'Pitch into 'em with quicklime and rotten eggs!' 'Strip 'em and give 'em a coat o' tar!' 'Wring their necks, and have done with 'em!' While these several complimentary suggestions were thrown from as many different quarters of the assailants, one of them had quietly laid hold of Abel White. There was little doubt--according to what came out afterwards--that he and Robert Darby were the two men chiefly aimed at in this night assault. Darby, however, was not there. As it happened, he had turned the contrary way on leaving the yard, having joined one of the men who had lent him some of the money to get his tools out of pledge, and gone towards his home with him. 'If thee carest for thy life, thee'll stop indoors, and not go a-nigh Hunter's yard again to work!' Such were the words hissed forth in a hoarse whisper into the ear of Abel White, by the man who had seized upon him. Abel peered at him as keenly as the darkness would permit. White was no coward, and although aware that this attack most probably had him for its chief butt, he retained his composure. He could not recognise the man--a tall man, in a large loose blue frock, such as is sometimes worn by butchers, with a red woollen cravat wound roughly round his throat, hiding his chin and mouth, and a seal-skin cap, its dark 'ears' brought down on the sides of the face, and tied under the chin. The man may have been so wrapped up for protection against the weather, or for the purpose of disguise. 'Let me go,' said White. 'When thee hast sworn not to go on working till the Union gives leave.' 'I never will swear it. Or say it.' 'Then thee shall get every bone in th' body smashed. Thee'st been reported to Mr. Shuck, and to the Union.' 'I'd like to know your name and who you are,' exclaimed White. 'If you are not disguising your voice, it's odd to me.' 'D'ye remember Baxendale? _He_ wouldn't take the oath, and he's lying with his ribs stove in.' 'More shame for you! Look you, man, you can't intimidate me. I am made of sterner stuff than that.' 'Swear!' was the menacing retort; 'swear that thee won't touch another stroke o' work.' 'I tell you that I never will swear it,' firmly returned White. 'The Union has hoodwinked me long enough; I'll have nothing to do with it.' 'There be desperate men around ye--them as won't leave ye with whole bones. You shall swear.' 'I'll have nothing more to do with the Union; I'll never again obey it,' answered White, speaking earnestly. 'There! make your most of it. If I had but a friendly gleam of light here, I'd know who you are, and let others know.'