Donald passed the dynamite to Gillis and stepped forward with his arms extended, palms upward. The crowd moved uneasily. Hand came slowly to his feet, his small eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“What’s up?” he growled.
“Men,” Donald began in a high clear voice, “I would like to convince you that you will gain nothing by your present tactics. Bloodshed will surely ensue. I have orders to refuse your exorbitant demands. Personally, I have no choice in the matter; there is no other course for me to pursue. In spite of your interference we will continue working with the few men who have remained loyal. I will ask for police protection only as a last resort. I appeal particularly to the men who worked for me here at this camp. Is there one of you who can truthfully say that you were not accorded fair treatment? Is there one of you who will not admit that the general equipment for your comfort is unequalled in any camp in British Columbia? You are making a mistake, men,” he went on in a pleading tone, “a mistake you will be sorry for later, for you will be blacklisted in every camp in the country. Go back to work, and I promise you there will be no mark against you. That’s all.”
Donald walked back to Connie’s side. The men had not interrupted him once.
Hand turned to the wavering crowd. “To hell mit him and all capitalists!” he snarled. He turned to shake a huge fist at Donald.
“You treaten us, do you? You d——” The epithet that came from his coarse lips was one that would cause any decent man to see red.
Donald stiffened. His face turned livid. “You dirty cur!” he flamed. “Don’t you know that there is a lady present? You apologize to this little girl or I will whip you within an inch of your life!” His voice trembled with passion.
“Lady,” scoffed Hand, “vat you call a lady? She moost be nice lady, runnin’ in de woods wit’ you ev’ry Sunday.”
A murderous look shot from Donald’s dark eyes. A terrible rage possessed him, a rage that made his blood feel hot in his veins and gave him the unnatural strength of a madman. A dull red flamed in Connie’s tanned cheeks. She sat down and covered her hot face with her hands.
Andy now came running from the cook-house, dressed in white cap and apron, his rifle trailing at his side. “What’s goin’ on, Donnie?” he questioned.