Acton, now cognizant of the worst, went to the police commissioners’ room and said:  “Gentlemen, the crisis has come.  A battle must be fought now, and won, too, or all is lost.”

None doubted the truth of his word; but who should lead the small force at hand?  Inspector Carpenter’s name was suggested, for he was known to be a man of great resolution and courage, and leadership naturally fell to him as one of the oldest and most experienced members of the force.  Acton instructed him not only that a battle must be fought immediately, but also that it must be successful.

Carpenter listened quietly, comprehending both the peril and the necessity; then after a moment’s hesitation he rose to his full height, and with an impressive gesture and a terrible oath said, “I will go, and I’ll win that fight, or Daniel Carpenter will never come back a live man.”

He instantly summoned his insignificant force, and the order, “Fall in, men,” resounded through the street.

Merwyn, with a policeman’s coat buttoned over his blouse, avowed his purpose of going with them; and his exploit of the afternoon, witnessed and bruited by members of the force, made his presence welcome.

It was now between five and six in the evening.  The air was hot and sultry, and in the west lowered heavy clouds, from which the thunder muttered.  Emblematic they seemed to such as heeded them in the intense excitement.

Few in the great city at that hour were so deeply stirred as Merwyn.  The tremendous excitements of the day, to which his experience at Mr. Vosburgh’s residence had chiefly contributed, were cumulative in their effect.  Now he had reached the goal of his hope, and had obtained an opportunity, far beyond his wildest dreams, to redeem his character from the imputation of cowardice.  He was part of the little force which might justly be regarded as a “forlorn hope.”  The fate of the city depended upon its desperate valor, and no one knew this better than he, who, from early morning, had witnessed the tiger-spirit of the mob.  If the thousands, every minute approaching nearer, should annihilate the handful of men who alone were present to cope with them, that very night the city would be at the mercy of the infuriated rioters, and not a home would be secure from outrage.

The column of police was formed scarcely two hundred strong.  Merwyn, as a new recruit, was placed in its rear, a position that he did not mean to keep when the fight should begin.  Like the others, he was armed with a locust-club, but he had two revolvers on his person, and these he knew how to use with fatal precision.  From an open window Superintendent Acton shouted, “Inspector Carpenter, my orders are, Make no arrests, bring no prisoners, but kill—­kill every, time.”

It was to be a life-and-death struggle.  The mob would have no mercy:  the officers of the law were commanded to show none.

As Carpenter went forward to the head of his column, his face as dark with his sanguinary puipose as the lowering west, Merwyn saw that Mr. Vosburgh, quiet and observant, was present.