One gentleman neither grinned nor swore. His countenance fell with singular rapidity. This was Mr. Briarley, who had come up in the rear. He held in one hand a pewter pot which was half empty. He had caught it up in the heat of the moment, from the table at which he had been sitting when the news came. "What's in th' barrils?" he inquired. The man he spoke to turned to him roughly. "Powder," he answered, "an' lead, tha domned foo'!" Mr. Briarley looked at his mug regretfully. "I thowt," he said, "as happen it mought ha' bin beer." Having reflected a moment, he was on the point of raising the mug to his lips when a thought struck him. He stopped short. "What's he goin' to do wi' em?" he quavered. "Ax him," was the grim answer. "Ax him, lad. He dunnot say." "He is na--" in manifest trepidation, "he is na--goin' to--to fire 'em off!" "He'll fire 'em off, if he comes across thee," was the reply. "Mak' sure o' that. An' I should na blame him, neyther." Mr. Briarley reflected again for a few seconds--reflected deeply. Then he moved aside a little. "I hannot seen Sararann sin' yesterday," he said, softly, "nor yet Janey, nor yet--th' owd missus. I--I mun go and see 'em." Haworth kept his word. The next day there was not a man who went to and from the Works who could not have defended himself if he had been attacked. But no one was attacked. His course was one so unheard of, so unexpected, that it produced a shock. There was a lull in the movement, at least. The number of his enemies increased and were more violent, but they were forced to content themselves with violence of speech. Somehow, it scarcely seemed safe to use ordinary measures against Jem Haworth. He slept in his room at the Works, and shared watches with the force he had on guard. He drove through the town boldly, and carried a grim, alert face. He was here, and there, and everywhere; in the Works, going from room to room; at the bank, ready for emergencies. "When this here's over," he said, "I'll give you chaps a spree you won't get over in a bit, by George!" Those who presented themselves at the bank the morning the placards were to be seen got their money. By noon the number arriving diminished perceptibly. In a day or two a few came back, and would have handed over their savings again willingly, but the bank refused to take them. "Carry it to Manchester," were Haworth's words. "They'll take it there--I won't."