"Yes," said Cameron, "at once. Come, I shall take you home."
"No, never mind me!" she cried. "Go! Go! I can take care of myself. I
shall follow." Her voice rang out strong and clear; she was herself once
more.
"You are the right sort, Mandy," cried Cameron, taking her hand. "Good
bye!"
"Good bye!" she replied, her face suddenly pale and her lips beginning
to quiver. "I shall always remember--I--shall--always be glad for--what
you said today."
Cameron stood looking at her for a moment somewhat uncertainly, then,
"Good bye!" he said abruptly, and, turning, went at the double towards
his quarters.
The strikers had indeed broken loose, supported by the ruffianly horde
of camp followers who were egging them on to violence and destruction of
property. At present they were wild with triumph over the fact that they
had rescued one of their leaders, big Joe Coyle, from Constable Scott.
It was an exceedingly dangerous situation, for the riot might easily
spread from camp to camp. Bruised and bloody, Constable Scott reported
to Superintendent Strong lying upon his sick bed.
"Sergeant," said the Superintendent, "take Constables Cameron and Scott,
arrest that man at once and bring him here!"
In the village they found between eight hundred and a thousand men, many
of them crazed with bad whiskey, some armed with knives and some with
guns, and all ready for blood.
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