An army advancing into an enemy's country could not preserve better order. Far in advance of the main body of the toilers is the vanguard, a group of twenty of the acknowledged leaders of the men. It is at their suggestion that the cowed wretches have mustered up courage enough to cross the bridge and enter upon the interdicted boulevard. So it is incumbent upon them to show no trepidation. Immediately behind them are the more adventurous ones, followed by the women and children, who, like angels, tread where men fear to go. The great mass of the crowd is composed of the workmen of the town. The faint-hearted and the cowardly bring up the rear. When the marble steps that lead up to the mansion are reached, the vanguard halts. The impetus of the entire line is arrested as if by magic. An unheard, invisible signal is obeyed, the signal of fear. Then the men in advance beckon to the people to come forward. A score of young men respond as if to a summons for volunteers, and in their wake press the multitude. The tumult ceases. The moment for action is approaching and men concentrate their attention on what is being done by the leaders. "I have come for the body of Carl Metz," shouts Foreman O'Neil, from the foot of the terrace; his voice ringing with a tone of defiance. "I have come for the body, and if you do not bring it out we will go in after it." This ultimatum is addressed to the private detective who stands on the piazza of the Coal Magnate's palace, as a sentinel. He does not seem disconcerted at the sight of so great a number of people. On the contrary his mouth curls in a derisive smile. "O, you had better all go back to the breakers," he retorts. "We will see that Metz's body is buried." Then he pauses, waiting to see the effect his words will produce. On and on comes the tidal wave of humanity. If it is not checked soon it will deluge the palace. "I will shoot the first man who sets a foot on this piazza," defiantly cries the detective, at the same time drawing his revolver. "Get back to your breakers. If the superintendent sees you on this side of the river, you'll all get _sacked_," he adds as a threat more terrible than the shooting of one of them. "We don't want to make trouble," explains O'Neil. "All that we ask is that we may take the body of Metz and give it decent burial. Has the superintendent said we could not have it?" Mr. Judson, the superintendent of the Giant Breakers, appears at the door. He steps out on the piazza. A sullen roar greets him. "Until the coroner has disposed of the case," he begins, "no one will be permitted to touch the body. You have heard my decision. Now go back to your work." The recollection of the treachery practiced on them in the riot of 1900, when their dead fellow-workmen were put in crates and buried by the police at night, without religious rites, comes to the minds of all. They have sworn then that never again would they be cheated of the right to bury their martyred brothers.