Patience Wins Part 58

"What! About the outrages?" said Uncle d.i.c.k firmly.

"Outrages, mester!"

"Well, the attempts to blow us up."

"Ay!--the trade business. Did I ivver come and say word to anny of you?"

"Never."

"Or to yow, youngster?"

"Never, Pannell. You always went against us," I said, "when a word from you would--"

"Theer, that'll do. Tell me this--Did I ivver tell on anny on 'em?"

"No; you have always been true to your party, Pannell--if that is what you mean."

"And that is what I mean," said the great fellow, throwing his head about and jerking out his words, each with a menacing flourish of the hammer or a mock blow, as if they were steel words that he wanted to strike into shape.

"n.o.body accused you of tale-bearing to us," said Uncle d.i.c.k.

"Didn't they, mester?" he roared. "What's this, then, and this, and this?"

He touched the scars upon his head and brow, and the sticking-plaster left on.

"Don't you call that saying I telled on 'em, wi'out the poother in my forge this morning?"

"A cowardly brutal thing to have done, my man."

"Ay, so 'twas. I'd done nowt but be civil to young mester here. Say,"

he cried fiercely, "yow telled 'em I forged that trap!" and he turned on me.

"Oh, Pannell!" I cried, flus.h.i.+ng indignantly.

That was all I said, but it was enough.

"Beg pardon, young gentleman!--yow didn't, I can see that. Nay, it was the altogetherishness o' the whole thing. They set me down--me, a mate in the union--as hevvin' telled on 'em and gone agen 'em, and being friends wi' the mesters; and yow see what they've done."

"Indeed we do, Pannell--"

"Howd hard, mester," said the big smith, flouris.h.i.+ng about his hammer.

"I hevn't had my spell yet. I want to speak."

Uncle d.i.c.k nodded, as much as to say, "Go on."

"Look here, then, mesters--I've thowt this out. It's cowards' business, ivvery bit on it, 'cept Matt Stivvins this morning coming and fetching young mester out of the way."

"Yes," I said, "he did."

"And they'll k.n.o.bstick 'im for it if they know--see if they don't!"

"Then they mustn't know," I cried eagerly. "I don't like Stevens, but he did save me this morning."

"Ay, he did, 'cause he said once yow weer a trump, my lad; but he didn't give me a word. I sha'n't tell on him, but I sha'n't hev nought more to do wi' anny on 'em. I've been union man all these years and paid, and here's what I've got for it. I says to mysen, I says: If this here's what comes o' sticking to union through all their games I've done wi'

'em, and I'm a master's man--that's all."

He turned short round to go, but Uncle d.i.c.k stopped him.

"I don't quite understand what you mean, Pannell."

"What I mean! Why, what I said--that's what I mean."

"That you have done with the trades-union, Pannell," I cried, "and mean to be on our side?"

"That's so, mester. Now I mun go or my fire'll be out."

He strode out of the place and banged the door after him; and as he went along the shop I could see him in imagination staring defiantly from side to side, in answer to the savage murmur that greeted him from the men whom he had made up his mind to defy.

"What do you think of that?" said Uncle d.i.c.k, as soon as we heard the farther door close with a crash.

"It's the beginning of the end," said Uncle Jack with an eager look in his eyes. "Keep firm, boys, and we shall have them all honestly on our side, and we can laugh at all trades-unions in Arrowfield that fight with cowardly weapons. The men do not do what their own feelings prompt, but obey the law of a secret society which forces them to do these cruel wrongs."

It must have been intentional on his part, for as I went down into the furnace house about half an hour after, at my usual time, to take down an account of work done, I met Stevens coming towards me.

We were in the big empty building, the furnace being cold, and no work going on that day, and he slouched towards me as if he were going by, but I stopped him and held out my hand.

"Thank you, Stevens," I said. "I didn't understand it then, but you saved me from something terrible to-day."

He gave a quick glance or two about, and then regularly s.n.a.t.c.hed my hand, gave it a squeeze, and threw it away.

"All right, my lad!" he said in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "You're on'y one o'

the mesters, but I couldn't abear to see thee in for it too."

He went on his away and I went mine, feeling that Uncle Jack was right, and that though it might be a long journey first, it was the beginning of the end.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

I START FOR A WALK.

"Who's for a walk?" said Uncle d.i.c.k one morning. "I'm going up the hills to the millstone-grit quarry."

I started, and my heart gave a throb, but I did not look up.

"I can't go," said Uncle Jack.

"And I'm busy," said Uncle Bob.