It was, indeed, a moment of terror. Here, barely a dozen in all, were Nolan, Shiner, George Graham, and a few of the more intelligent, the Americans, among the miners. There, possibly a hundred yards away, and to the number of at least three hundred, a throng of human brutes, utterly ignorant, superstitious, credulous, craftily inspired, were now surging slowly forward up the heights. Two minutes would bring them about the little party in overwhelming strength. Flight anywhere downhill was impossible. The one refuge in sight was that beleaguered little clump of buildings just beyond them up the slope, garrisoned by a dozen desperate men who had shouted warning again and again, they'd shoot down the first man that showed a head above the rocks. But desperate straits need desperate measures. All on a sudden a tall, slender youth, in the coarse dress of a railway fireman, sprang from the midst of the pallid-faced group and, waving his handkerchief over his head, called back, "Stay where you are one minute!" and then, without a second's falter or swerve, straight for the nearest building, a low, one-story log-house, the manager's office near the mouth of the mine, waving his white signal high as his arm could reach, and shouting, "Don't fire--we are friends!" George Graham swiftly climbed for the upper level. One rifle flashed. One bullet whizzed over his head, but he reached the road, then, both arms extended, rushed straight for the door. It was thrown open to admit him by Cawker, the manager, white-faced almost as they whom Geordie had left. "Come out here!" cried Graham. "See for yourself. Nolan, Shiner, with those few lads, are all that have stood between you and the mob below. Every American is out of it. They're coming to kill Nolan for turning against them. Call him up! Call them all--There's barely a dozen. Then you've got just as many more to stand by you!" And Cawker had sense to see and to realize. "Call 'em yourself," said he. "Don't shoot, men! These are friends come to aid us!" he cried, running up and down in front of the loop-holes. "Come on, Nolan and all of you," he added, for Graham had gone bounding half-way back again, and, like so many goats, the threatened party came scrambling out of their shelter and up the steep incline, while afar down the hill-side rose a yell of baffled rage and vengeance. "Hold the rest of them whatever you do!" shouted Geordie, again racing back. "Don't let that gang over the edge or you're gone!" And again the brown barrels of the rifles thrust forth from the wooden walls and were turned on the bend of the road. Almost breathless, Long Nolan, and with him the little squad of adherents, came running up to the door. "Inside, quick as you can!" shouted Cawker. "We've got to give those blood-hounds a lesson."