“Remember,” said Farnham.  “Use your clubs as much as you see fit, if you come to close quarters; but do not fire without orders, unless to save your own lives.  I don’t think it is likely that these fellows are armed.”

The clattering of feet grew louder on the sidewalk, and in a moment the leaders of the gang—­it could hardly be called a mob—­stopped by the gates.  “Here’s the place.  Come along boys!” one of them shouted, but no one stirred until the whole party came up.  They formed a dense crowd about the gates and half-filled the wide avenue.  There was evidently a moment of hesitation, and then three or four rushed through the gate, followed by a larger number, and at last by the bulk of the crowd.  They had come so near the porch that it could now be seen by the light of the moon that few of them carried arms.  Some had sticks; one or two men carried heavy stones in their hands; one young man brandished an axe; one had a hammer.  There was evidently no attempt at organization whatever.

Farnham waited until they were only a few feet away, and then shouted: 

“Forward!  Guide right!  Double time!  March!”

The men darted out from the shadow and began to lay about them with their clubs.  A yell of dismay burst from the crowd.  Those in front turned and met those behind, and the whole mass began striking out wildly at each other.  Yelling and cursing, they were forced back over the lawn to the gate.  Farnham, seeing that no shots had been fired, was confirmed in his belief that the rioters were without organization and, to a great extent, without arms.  He therefore ordered his men to the right about and brought them back to the house.  This movement evidently encouraged the mob.  Loud voices were distinctly heard.

“Who’s afraid of half a dozen cops?” said a burly ruffian, who carried a slunfg-shot.  “There’s enough of us to eat ’em up.”

“That’s the talk, Bowersox,” said another.  “You go in and get the first bite.”

“That’s my style,” said Bowersox.  “Come along, Offitt.  Where’s Bott?  I guess he don’t feel very well.  Come along, boys!  We’ll slug ’em this time!” And the crowd, inspirited by this exhortation and the apparent weakness of the police force, made a second rush for the house.

Temple was standing next to Farnham.  “Arthur,” he whispered, “let’s change weapons a moment,” handing Farnham his club and taking the revolver from his hand.  Farnham hardly noticed the exchange, so intently was he watching the advance of the crowd, which he saw, in a moment, was far more serious than the first.  They were coming up more solidly, and the advantage of the surprise was now gone.  He waited, however, until they were almost as near as they had been before, and then gave the order to charge, in the same words as before, but in a much sharper and louder tone, which rang out like a sudden blast from a trumpet.