(The crowd begins to break up, many of the men climbing back over the railing into the mill proper)
Militiaman.
(Comes sliding down the pole)
What's the trouble?
Jim King.
(Returning with Dicey and Masters)
They're out for their selves, damn 'em; we'll be too.
Seventh Militiaman.
(Coming away with two or three others)
Young Egerton's pure gold if ever was.