"There may be a few typographical errorsa，and I'mafraid it's a bad make—up，"he remarked；"but I'll have the thing on the press in ？ve minutes."With mallet and shooting—stick he tightened the quoinsb，then lifted the heavy iron frames ？lled with type and slid them onto the bed of the press.They gave him all the light the ？ickering candles afforded as he adjusted the machinery，and all were bending over the press when a low，distant growl was heard，rising slowly to a frenzied shout.A revolver popped—another—followed by wild cries from the street.
The girls grew a little pale，but Thursday Smith put his hand on the lever of the press and said：
"All right.The moment they give us the current we're ready to run."Patsy straightened up with a sigh of relief，then gave alow cry as the screens of the two windows of the pressroom were smashed in and through the openings men began to tumble into the room.At once Hetty confronted them with leveled revolver and the sight caused them to hesitate.
"Out o'the way，you women！"called a burlyc fellow whowore a green sweater and an oilskin hat；"we don't want to hurt you if we can help.There's the one we're after！"He pointed a ？nger at Thursday Smith.
"You can't have him，"retorted Beth，half shieldedbehind the militant Hetty."This is private property，and you're trespassinga.Unless you go away at once you will suffer the consequences."This defense seemed to surprise them，for they fell backa little toward the windows.At that moment，with a low rumble，the press started，moving slowly at ？rst but gradually acquiring speed.The sight aroused the resentment of the invaders.
"Stop that press！"yelled their spokesman excitedly."Stop it，Smith，or we'll put both you and the machine out of business."Thursday paid no attention to anything but his press.The huge cylinder of white paper was unrolling，passing under the platen and emerging at the other end as neatly folded copies of the Millville Daily Tribune.
With a roar of rage the big fellow leaped forward，but atthe action a shot rang out and he fell headlong almost at the foot of the press.
Beth and Patsy turned their heads an instant to glance at Hetty.The artist's face was white and set；her eyes sparkledbrilliantly；she held the still smoking weapon in readiness for another shot.
But the men were awed by the fall of their leader.They watched Beth leap to the platform beside Thursday Smith and draw his revolver from his pocket，where he had placed it.
Hetty's courage had inspired her，and Beth had handled pistolsbefore.The men read the determined eyes ？xed upon them；they noted Smith's indifference to their threats.The defenders of the press and pressman were only girls，but they were girls evidently not afraid to shoot.
No advance was made and the tableaua was dramatic.Smith watched his press with undivided attentionb and it clattered away at full speed until the frail building shook with its powerful，steady motion.Then suddenly it began to slowdown.The power was off，and the machine came to an abruptstop.
Thursday stepped from the platform and looked at the index of the counter.
"Four hundred and sixty—three.Twenty—two short，MissDoyle，"he announced."That'll do，Thursday."He came to her side，then，facing the sullenc，glowering group of mill hands.
"Boys，"said he，"it won't do you any good to interfere with us to—night.The paper for to—morrow morning is already printed，and Ojoy Boglin isn't a big enough man to stop it，now or ever.Better go back to Royal and settle your troubles with Skeelty，for if you stay here the citizens of Millville are in the mood to shoot you down like dogs."They stood undecided a moment，but the argument hadevidently struck home.
"What's the matter with Harris？"asked one，pointing to the motionless form of the man in the green sweater."Is he dead ？""I suppose so，"answered Thursday coolly；but hestooped to examine Hetty's victim，rolling him over so that his face was upward."No；he isn't hurt much，I'm sorry to say.The bullet glanced off his forehead and stunned him，that's all.Take the brute，if you want him，and go."They obeyed in silence.Several stepped forward and raised the unconscious Harris，bearing him to the window，where they passed him to those without.Then they also retreated through the windows and the room was cleared.
Only then did Hetty and Beth venture to lower their weapons.
"Oh，dear！"cried Patsy，in a low，agitated voice；"I'mso glad you didn't kill him，Hetty.""I'm not，"returned the artist doggedly."He deserveddeath，at the least，and by killing him I'd have cheated the gallows."Then she glanced around at the horrified faces of her friends and burst into tears.