"How can you get up there?" Miss Hartwell clutched eagerly at this straw. Élise smiled resolutely. "I am going up on the tram. Now you must listen carefully." She unbuckled her belt and placed her revolver in Miss Hartwell's listless hands. "Keep away from the windows. If there is any firing lie down on the floor close to the wall. Nothing will get through the logs." She turned toward the door. "You must come and lock up after me." At the door Miss Hartwell stood for a moment, irresolute. She offered no further objections to Élise's going. That it cost a struggle was plainly shown in the working lines of her face. Only for a moment she stood, then, yielding to an overmastering impulse, she laid her hands on the shoulders of Élise. "Good-bye," she whispered. "You are a brave girl." Élise bent her lips to those of Miss Hartwell. "Yours is the hardest part. But it isn't good-bye." The door closed behind her, and she heard the click of the bolt shot home. There were a few resolute men in the mill. It was short-handed; but the beating stamps pounded out defiance. In the tram tower Élise spoke to the attendant. "Stop the tram." The swarthy Italian touched his hat. "Yes, miss." The grinding brake was applied and an empty bucket swung gently to and fro. "Now, Joe, do just as I tell you. I am going up in this bucket." She glanced at the number. "When three-twenty comes in stop. Don't start up again for a half hour at least." The man looked at her in dumb surprise. "You go in the tram?" he asked. "What for?" "To warn Mr. Firmstone." For reply, the man brushed her aside and began clambering into the empty bucket. "Me go," he said, grimly. Élise laid a detaining hand upon him. "No. You must run the tram. I can't." "Me go," he insisted. "Cable jump sheave? What matter? One damn dago gone. Plenty more. No more Élise." Élise pulled at him violently. He was ill-balanced. The pull brought him to the floor, but Élise did not loose her hold. Her eyes were flashing. "Do as I told you." The man brought a ladder and Élise sprang lightly up the rounds. "All right," she said. "Go ahead." The man unloosed the brake. There was a tremor along the cable; the next instant the bucket shot from the door of the tower and glided swiftly up the line. "Don't forget. Three-twenty." Already the voice was faint with distance.