Considering these facts, Mr. Merrick shrewdly suspected that the dynamite explosion had been the work of the mill hands, yet why it was harmlessly exploded in a field was a factor that puzzled him exceedingly.  He concluded, from what information he possessed, that they had merely intended this as a warning, which if disregarded might be followed by a more serious catastrophe.

The idea that such a danger threatened his nieces made the old gentleman distinctly nervous.

There were ways to evade further molestation from the lawless element at the mill.  The Hon. Ojoy could be conciliated; Thursday Smith discharged; or the girls could abandon their journalistic enterprise altogether.  Such alternatives were mortifying to consider, but his girls must be protected from harm at any cost.

While he was still considering the problem, the girls and Arthur having driven to the office, as usual, Joe Wegg rode over from Thompson’s Crossing on his sorrel mare for a chat with his old friend and benefactor.  It was this same young man—­still a boy in years—­who had once owned the Wegg Farm and disposed of it to Mr. Merrick.

Joe was something of a mechanical genius and, when his father died, longed to make his way in the great world.  But after many vicissitudes and failures he returned to Chazy County to marry Ethel Thompson, his boyhood sweetheart, and to find that one of his father’s apparently foolish investments had made him rich.

Ethel was the great-granddaughter of the pioneer settler of Chazy County—­Little Bill Thompson—­from whom the Little Bill Creek and Little Bill Mountain had been named.  It was he who first established the mill at Millville; so, in marrying a descendant of Little Bill Thompson, Joe Wegg had become quite the most important resident of Chazy County, and the young man was popular and well liked by all who knew him.

After the first interchange of greetings Joe questioned Mr. Merrick about the explosion of the night before, and Uncle John frankly stated his suspicions.

“I’m sorry,” said Joe, “they ever started that mill at Royal Falls.  Most of the workmen are foreigners, and all of them rude and reckless.  They have caused our quiet, law-abiding people no end of trouble and anxiety already.  It is becoming a habit with them to haunt Millville on Saturday nights, when they are partly intoxicated, and they’ve even invaded some of the farmhouses and frightened the women and children.  I’ve talked to Bob West about it and he has promised to swear in Lon Taft and Seth Davis as special constables, to preserve order; but he admits we are quite helpless to oppose such a gang of rowdies.  I’ve also been to see Mr. Skeelty, to ask him to keep his men at home, but he answered gruffly that he had no authority over his employees except during working hours, and not much authority even then.”

“Skeelty doesn’t seem the right man to handle those fellows,” observed Mr. Merrick thoughtfully; “but as he owns the controlling interest in his company, and Boglin is fully as unreasonable, we cannot possibly oust him from control.  If the men determined to blow up all Millville with dynamite I’m sure Skeelty would not lift a finger to prevent it.”