With Marlborough to Malplaquet | Page 7

of those fellows."
"Why, to judge from all the whispers we hear," the overlooker
commented, "we are like enough to get our backs well hazelled before
long."
George gave a word of caution to the pitmen when they left work that
afternoon.
"There are sure to be insults," he said, "but take no notice, and keep out
of harm's way."
But the fates were against George and his pit that day. Hardly had the
little gang of Fairburn colliers turned the corner of the lane when they
were met by an excited mob carrying a huge sheet on which was rudely
printed in big characters, "Down with all Whigs!"
"An insult to the gaffer, that's as plain as the nose on a man's face,"
cried one of the Fairburn fellows, and without more ado, he dashed
forward and made a grab at the offending canvas. He was forestalled,
however, a man of the opposing party deftly tripping him up and
sending him sprawling into the mud. Before the unlucky pitman could
rise the whole mob had surged over him, amidst shrieks of laughter.

On this the Fairburn men threw all George's cautions to the winds, and
charged the mob. Instantly a hot fight was going on around the big
banner. Even old Saunders, the overlooker, caught one of the
opposition gang by the collar, crying, "Ye loons, what for are ye
coming our way again? Ye ha' been once to-day, wi' your jibes and
jeers; isn't that enough?"
"Jibes and jeers, old lad! Eh, there'll happen be mair than that afore
bedtime."
Meanwhile there was rough work around the banner. In spite of the
efforts of the bearers and their friends to protect the canvas, one of the
Fairburn men had got a grip of it, and in a second the thing had been
torn from its supporting poles, amid mingled cheers and execrations.
The canvas itself was pulled hither and thither by the opposing gangs,
each striving to retain possession of it. Bit by bit the banner was torn to
pieces, the men fighting savagely for even the smallest shred of it, each
man pocketing his piece as a trophy, till at length there was nothing of
the thing left visible.
Cries of, "On to the pit wi' ye, lads!" were by this time plentiful, and
with a dash the now much augmented mob surged in that direction.
Under old Saunders the Fairburn men disputed every yard of the way,
but they were entirely outnumbered, and were slowly but surely forced
back upon the works they had so recently left. All had happened in the
course of a very few minutes.
George, on his way to his home, some half mile away, had made scarce
half the distance when his ears were assailed by the noise of conflict
somewhere behind him. He stopped and listened, the yells growing
louder and fiercer every instant. Then he darted back towards the pit,
reaching the spot just in time to see his men make a dash for the shelter
of the sheds around the mouth, followed by a howling, threatening
mob.
In a moment the youngster sprang through the entrance of the largest of
the sheds, and closed the door, shooting home the two thick rough bars
of wood that did duty for bolts, amid shouts from his men of "The

young gaffer! We'll all stick to him!" And in spite of his youth, George
was at once installed as captain of the little Fairburn band. He had
always been highly popular with the men of the colliery; they liked his
entire freedom from vain show and swagger, and his pleasant-spoken
manner.
"What have we in the way of weapons, lads?" he asked, taking a hasty
glance round the dimly-lit shed. Darkness was coming on apace even
outside; within the shed the men had to grope their way about.
There was very little that would serve, except a number of pickaxes, a
few shovels, and two or three hayforks belonging to the stables. These
were served out, and then one man found the master's gun, with a
powder-flask and a handful of sparrow shot.
"Better let me have that," said George, quietly relieving the man of the
weapon, the old overlooker approving with a "Aye, that's right; you'll
keep a cooler head than Tom there."
The mob outside surged down on the door in force, and with loud yells.
The door stood the shock, and the major part of the attackers in a trice
turned their attention to the smaller buildings dotted here and there
about the pit's mouth. One by one these sheds were pulled to pieces, to
the ever-increasing delight of the mob. George and his men were
powerless to stop the destruction.
"We must not venture out," the boy said, "unless