Their leader, being sent for, explained in good English that, as their honorable employer had hired them to do certain work which was not yet completed, they meant to stay. On being warned that this might prove dangerous, he answered darkly that they had taken precautions, and the danger might not be confined to them. Then, after some ceremonious compliments, he took his leave; and Aynsley laughed.
“That settles the thing! They won’t go and I can’t turn them out. I have some sympathy with the opposition’s claim that this is a white man’s country; but since they couldn’t give me the help I wanted, I had to get it where I could. Now, we’ll interview the white crowd.”
They found the men gathered in the big sleeping-shed where the lamps had just been lighted. They were sturdy, hard-looking fellows, most of whom owned small holdings which would not support them in the bush, and they listened gravely while Aynsley spoke. Then one got up to reply for the rest.
“We’ve seen this trouble coming and talked it over. So long as you don’t cut wages, we’ve nothing much to complain of and see no reason for quitting our job. Now, it looks as if the Vancouver boys were coming to turn us out. We’ll let them—if they can!”
There was a murmur of grim approval from the rest; and Aynsley, dividing them into detachments, sent them off to guard the saws and booms and engine-house. Then he turned to the manager with a sparkle in his eyes.
“I think we’re ready for anything that may happen. You’ll find me in the office if I’m wanted.”
On entering it he took down a couple of books from a shelf and endeavored to concentrate his attention on the business they recorded. It was the first serious crisis he had had to face, and he felt that hanging idly about the mill while he waited for the attack would be too trying. Somewhat to his surprise, he found his task engross him, and an hour had passed when he closed the books and crossed the floor to the open window.
It was a calm, dark night, and warm. A star or two glimmered above the black spires of the pines, but the mist that drifted along the waterside blurred the tall stacks and the lumber piles. There was no sign of the men; and the deep silence was emphasized by a faint hiss of steam and the gurgle of the river.
Leaning on the sill, Aynsley drank in the soft night air, which struck on his forehead pleasantly cool. He admitted that he was anxious, but he thought he could keep his apprehensions under good control.
As he gazed into the darkness, a measured sound stole out of the mist, and, growing louder, suggested a galloping horse. It approached the mill, but Aynsley did not go down. If anybody wanted him, it would be better that he should be found quietly at work in his office; and he was seated at his table with a pen in his hand when a man was shown in. The newcomer was neatly dressed except that his white shirt was damp and crumpled. His face was hot and determined.