“What do you think of that?” said Uncle Dick, as soon as we heard the farther door close with a crash.
“It’s the beginning of the end,” said Uncle Jack with an eager look in his eyes. “Keep firm, boys, and we shall have them all honestly on our side, and we can laugh at all trades-unions in Arrowfield that fight with cowardly weapons. The men do not do what their own feelings prompt, but obey the law of a secret society which forces them to do these cruel wrongs.”
It must have been intentional on his part, for as I went down into the furnace house about half an hour after, at my usual time, to take down an account of work done, I met Stevens coming towards me.
We were in the big empty building, the furnace being cold, and no work going on that day, and he slouched towards me as if he were going by, but I stopped him and held out my hand.
“Thank you, Stevens,” I said. “I didn’t understand it then, but you saved me from something terrible to-day.”
He gave a quick glance or two about, and then regularly snatched my hand, gave it a squeeze, and threw it away.
“All right, my lad!” he said in a hoarse whisper. “You’re on’y one o’ the mesters, but I couldn’t abear to see thee in for it too.”
He went on his away and I went mine, feeling that Uncle Jack was right, and that though it might be a long journey first, it was the beginning of the end.