Pannell was laughing good-humouredly, and just then Uncle Bob turned upon him.
“Thank you, Pannell,” he said quickly. “I’m glad we have one true man in the place.”
“Oh, it’s aw reight, mester,” said the smith. “Here, coom along, thou’st had anew to last thee these two months.”
As he spoke he half dragged the big grinder away to the workshop, and Uncle Bob rapidly explained the state of affairs.
“It’s enough to make us give up,” cried Uncle Dick angrily. “We pay well; we’re kind to our men; we never overwork them; and yet they serve us these blackguard tricks. Well, if they want to be out of work they shall be, for I’ll agree to no more bands being bought till the scoundrels come to their senses.”
“But we will not be beaten,” cried Uncle Jack, who looked disappointed at there being no more fighting.
“No,” said Uncle Bob, wiping his bleeding knuckles. “I feel as if I had tasted blood, as they say, and I’m ready to fight now to the end.”
“And all the time we are talking and letting that poor dog perish! The cowards!” cried Uncle Dick fiercely. “Is he dead?”
“No,” I said; “I saw one of his ears quiver a little, but he is not breathing so loudly.”
“Give him another plunge,” said Uncle Jack.