“An’ now listen,” continued the big trackman fiercely, as the rest gathered about him. “I didn’t tell everyt’ing. Besides disa man Hennessy he say cuta da wage, an’ send for odders take your job, he tella da biga boss you no worka good, so da biga boss he no pay you for all da last mont’!”
The ignorantly credulous Poles uttered a shout of rage. Several cried: “Keel him! Keel him!” Alex, in the loft, drew back in terror.
“No! Dere bettera way dan dat,” said Tony. “Da men to taka your job come to-night on da Nomber Twent’. I hava da plan.
“You alla know da old track dat turn off alonga da riv’ to da old brick-yard? Well, hunerd yard from da main line da old track she washed away. We will turn da old switch, Nomber Twent’ she run on da old track—an’ swoosh! Into da riv’!”
Run No. 20 into the river! Alex almost cried aloud. And he knew the plan would succeed—that, as Big Tony said, a hundred yards from the main-line track the old brick-yard siding embankment was washed out so that the rails almost hung in the air.
“Dena we all say,” went on Big Tony, “we alla say, Hennessy, he do it. We say we caughta him. See?”
Again Alex glanced down, and with hope he saw that some of the Poles were hesitating. But Tony quickly added: “An’ no one else be kill buta da strike-break’. No odder peoples on da Nomber Twent’ disa day at night. An’ da trainmen dey alla have plent’ time to jomp.
“Only da men wat steala your job,” he repeated craftily. And with a sinking heart Alex saw that the rest of the easily excitable foreigners had been won.
Again he moved back out of sight. Something must be done! If he could only reach the barn and free the foreman!
But of course the first thing to do was to make his own escape from the house. He rose on his elbow and glanced about.