" Left front into line, double time ;" the first company
throws its long double rank from curb to curb,
Drummond, its commander, striding at its front;
Wing, his subaltern, anxiously watching him from
among the file-closers. Already they have reached
the rearmost of the rioting groups and, with warning
cries and imprecations, these are scurrying to either
side and falling into the hands of the accompanying
police. Thicker, denser grows the smoke; thicker,
denser the mob.
" Clear this street ! Out of the way Y^ are the
orders, and for a half-block or so clear it is. Then
comes the first opposition. On a pile of lumber a tall,
stalwart man in grizzled beard and slouching hat —



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FOES IN AMBUSH. 257

evidently a leader of mark among the mob — is shout-
ing orders and encouragement. What he says cannot
be heard, but now, tightly wedged between the rows
of buildings, the mob is at bay, and, yelling mad re-
sponse to the frantic appeals and gesticulations of their
leader, at least two thousand reckless and infuriated
men have faced the little battalion surging steadily up
the narrow street.
