The crowd paused at this show of resistance, but Glenister railed at them: 

“Come on—­come on!  What’s the matter with you?” And from the light in his eye it was evident that he would not be balked.

Helen felt that a crisis was come, and braced herself.  These men were in deadly earnest:  the white-haired banker, his pale helpers, and those grim, quiet ones outside.  There stood brawny, sun-browned men, with set jaws and frowning faces, and yellow-haired Scandinavians in whose blue eyes danced the flame of battle.  These had been baffled at every turn, goaded by repeated failure, and now stood shoulder to shoulder in their resistance to a cruel law.  Suddenly Helen heard a command from the street and the quick tramp of men, while over the heads before her she saw the glint of rifle barrels.  A file of soldiers with fixed bayonets thrust themselves roughly through the crowd at the entrance.

“Clear the room!” commanded the officer.

“What does this mean?” shouted Wheaton.

“It means that Judge Stillman has called upon the military to guard this gold, that’s all.  Come, now, move quick.”  The men hesitated, then sullenly obeyed, for resistance to the blue of Uncle Sam comes only at the cost of much consideration.

“They’re robbing us with our own soldiers,” said Wheaton, when they were outside.

“Ay,” said Glenister, darkly.  “We’ve tried the law, but they’re forcing us back to first principles.  There’s going to be murder here.”

CHAPTER XII

COUNTERPLOTS

Glenister had said that the Judge would not dare to disobey the mandates of the Circuit Court of Appeals, but he was wrong.  Application was made for orders directing the enforcement of the writs—­steps which would have restored possession of the Midas to its owners, as well as possession of the treasure in bank—­but Stillman refused to grant them.

Wheaton called a meeting of the Swedes and their attorneys, advising a junction of forces.  Dextry, who had returned from the mountains, was present.  When they had finished their discussion, he said: 

“It seems like I can always fight better when I know what the other feller’s game is.  I’m going to spy on that outfit.”

“We’ve had detectives at work for weeks,” said the lawyer for the Scandinavians; “but they can’t find out anything we don’t know already.”

Dextry said no more, but that night found him busied in the building adjoining the one wherein McNamara had his office.  He had rented a back room on the top floor, and with the help of his partner sawed through the ceiling into the loft and found his way thence to the roof through a hatchway.  Fortunately, there was but little space between the two buildings, and, furthermore, each boasted the square fronts common in mining-camps, which projected high enough to prevent observation from across the way.  Thus he was