The man nodded.
Segunder Olsen was an Icelander, a veritable giant in stature, and known to be a man possessing great strength. He had been forced out with his fellows when the strike was called. Steve had never passed half a dozen words with the Icelander. The latter was a taciturn man, but one who could do a day's work that was the wonder of the men who worked with him.
"What do you want, Olsen?" demanded Steve, trying to release himself from the other's grip.
"You make this strike, huh?"
"What—why certainly not. What made you think I did?"
"Men say you tell bosses not to pay us money. Then we must strike and get more. Huh?"
"They have told you lies, Olsen. I tried to prevent the strike. I knew how much you would all suffer if there were a strike, but the men would not listen to me. You may go to work if you wish to. There is nothing to hinder your doing so."
"Not have me."
"Oh, yes, they will."
"You come with me, huh?"