“There’s nowt to choose between him an’ Horsfall,” said the Marsden man. “Aw cannot tell what’s come over Horsfall. He allus used to be a decent master till this new craze came up. But naa’ he talks o’ nowt but machines, machines. An’ th’ way he raves on about th’ Luddites is enough to mak’ a worm turn. If he’s not lied on he said t’ other day at th’ market that he’d ha’ his own way i’ th’ mill if he had to ride up to his saddle girths i’ Luddite blood.”
“Well, well,” said George with an ugly gleam in his eye; “Horsfall can wait. What do you say, Ben?”
“Aye, Horsfall can wait,” I said, and would have said more if need were, for I shrunk from having part or parcel in any attack on Ottiwell’s.
“Well there’s an easy way to settle it,” said William Hall. “Let’s toss up.”
“Aye, that’s fair enough,” said several voices. “Heads for Horsfall, tails for Cartwright.” And so it was settled. I live again that moment of my life. Forty years roll away as though they had not been, and clear and vivid I see the group of eager men gathered round the hearth, with George erect and masterful in the centre.
“Who’ll call for Cartwright?” said George.
“That will I,” said Hall.
“Then here goes,” and George balanced a penny on his thumb and forefinger.
“Cry before it drops,” he said, and span the coin in the air.
“Tail,” said Hall, and every man held his breath as George tossed the coin and caught it. He had to stoop over the fire to see the face of the coin after he caught it.