Philip for answer threw one arm about Mr. Winter, saying:  “If you kill him, you will kill me with him.  You shall never do this great sin against an innocent man.  In the name of God, I call on every soul here to——­”

But his words were drowned in the noise that followed.  The mob was insane with fury.  Twice Mr. Winter was dragged off his feet by those down on the walk.  Twice Philip raised him to his feet, feeling sure that if the crowd once threw him down they would trample him to death.  Once some one threw a rope over the wretched man’s head.  Both he and Mr. Winter were struck again and again.  Their clothes were torn into tatters.  Mr. Winter was faint and reeling.  Only his great terror made his clutch on Philip like that of a drowning man.

At last the crowd had dragged the two outside the gate into the street.  Here they paused awhile and Philip again spoke to the mob: 

“Men, made in God’s image, listen to me!  Do not take innocent life.  If you kill him, you kill me also.  For I will never leave his side alive, and I will not permit such murder if I can prevent it.”

“Kill them both—­the bloody coward and the priest!” yelled a voice.  “They both belong to the same church.”

“Yes, hang ’em! hang ’em both!” A tempest of cries went up.  Philip towered up like a giant.  In the light of the street lamp he looked out over the great sea of passionate, brutal faces, crazed with drink and riot, and a great wave of compassionate feeling swept over him.  Those nearest never forgot that look.  It was Christlike in its yearning love for lost children.  His lips moved in prayer.

And just then the outer circle of the crowd seemed agitated.  It had surged up nearer the light with the evident intention of hanging the mill-owner on one of the cross pieces of a telegraph pole near by.  The rope had again been thrown over his head.  Philip stood with one arm about Mr. Winter, and with the other hand stretched out in entreaty, when he heard a pistol-shot, then another.  The entire police department had been summoned, and had finally arrived.  There was a skirmishing rattle of shots.  But the crowd began to scatter in the neighborhood of the police force.  Then those nearer Philip began to run as best they could away from the officers.  Philip and the mill-owner were dragged along with the rest in the growing confusion, until, watching his opportunity, Philip pulled Mr. Winter behind one of the large poles by which the lights of the street were suspended.

Here, sheltered a little, but struck by many a blow, Philip managed to shield with his own body the man who only a little while before had come into his own house and called him a liar, and threatened to withdraw his church support, because of the preaching of Christ’s principles.

When finally the officers reached the two men Mr. Winter was nearly dead from the fright.  Philip was badly bruised, but not seriously, and he helped Mr. Winter back to the house, while a few of the police remained on guard the rest of the night.  It was while recovering from the effects of the night’s attack that Philip little by little learned of the facts that led up to the assault.