handed, one against fifty.

"Come out," said his enemy, hoarsely, upon whom the insult and the
sight of the girl in the receiver's company had acted powerfully.

"Of course I'll come out, but I don't want this young lady to
suffer any violence from your friends," said McNamara. "I am not
armed, but I have the right to leave here unmolested--the right of
an American citizen." With that he raised his arms above his head.
"Out of my way!" he cried. Morehouse opened the gate, and McNamara
strode through the mob.

It is a peculiar thing that although under fury of passion a man
may fire even upon the back of a defenceless foe, yet no one can
offer violence to a man whose arms are raised on high and in whose
glance is the level light of fearlessness. Moreover, it is safer
to face a crowd thus than a single adversary.

McNamara had seen this psychological trick tried before and now
took advantage of it to walk through the press slowly, eye to eye.
He did it theatrically, for the benefit of the girl, and, as he
foresaw, the men fell away before him--all but Glenister, who
blocked him, gun in hand. It was plain that the persecuted miner
was beside himself with passion. McNamara came within an arm's-
length before pausing. Then he stopped and the two stared
malignantly at each other, while the girl behind the railing heard
her heart pounding in the stillness. Glenister raised his hand
uncertainly, then let it fall. He shook his head, and stepped
aside so that the other brushed past and out into the street.