Through these loitering and talking crowds Farnham made his way in the evening to the office which he kept, on the public square of the town, for the transaction of the affairs of his estate.  He had given directions to his clerk to be there, and when he arrived found that some half-dozen men had already assembled in answer to his advertisement.  Some of them he knew; one, Nathan Kendall, a powerful young man, originally from the north of Maine, now a machinist in Buffland, had been at one time his orderly in the army.  Bolty Grosshammer was there, and in a very short time some twenty men were in the room.  Farnham briefly explained to them his intention.  “I want you,” he said, “to enlist for a few days’ service under my orders.  I cannot tell whether there will be any work to do or not; but it is likely we shall have a few nights of patrol at least.  You will get ten dollars apiece anyhow, and ordinary day’s wages besides.  If any of you get hurt, I will try to have you taken care of.”

All but two agreed to the proposition.  These two said “they had families and could not risk their skins.  When they saw the advertisement they had thought it was something about pensions, or the county treasurer’s office.  They thought soldiers ought to have the first chance at good offices.”  They then grumblingly withdrew.

Farnham kept his men for an hour longer, arranging some details of organization, and then dismissed them for twenty-four hours, feeling assured that there would be no disturbance of public tranquillity that night.  “I will meet you here to morrow evening,” he said, “and you can get your pistols and sticks and your final orders.”

The men went out one by one, Bolty and Kendall waiting for a while after they had gone and going out on the sidewalk with Farnham.  They had instinctively appointed themselves a sort of bodyguard to their old commander, and intended to keep him in sight until he got home.  As they reached the door, they saw a scuffle going on upon the sidewalk.  A well-dressed man was being beaten and kicked by a few rough fellows, and the crowd was looking on with silent interest.  Farnham sprang forward and seized one of the assailants by the collar; Bolty pulled away another.  The man who had been cuffed turned to Kendall, who was standing by to help where help was needed, and cried, “Take me away somewhere; they will have my life;” an appeal which only excited the jeers of the crowd.

“Kendall, take him into my office,” said Farnham, which was done in an instant, Farnham and Bolty following.  A rush was made,—­not very vicious, however,—­and the three men got safely inside with their prize, and bolted the door.  A few kicks and blows shook the door, but there was no movement to break it down; and the rescued man, when he found himself in safety, walked up to a mirror there was in the room and looked earnestly at his face.  It was a little bruised and bloody, and dirty with mud, but not seriously injured.