Suddenly the men set up a cheer. Cavard, muffled to the ears in an expensive fur coat, was seen approaching. He was shaking hands with the men right and left as he strolled on toward the bridge.
The men began cheering. Somehow Cavard's appearance seemed to exert a strange influence over the miners. His sway over them was absolute.
They began to shout for him to talk to them. Half a dozen men hoisted him to a stump. The leader waved his cap.
"Men, you are making a noble fight!" he shouted. "You will yet down the bosses and make them come to your terms. We've got them on the run already. Their feet are on your necks and on the necks of your families, but you will throw the weight off, and when you do, there will be a terrible retribution. And what a little thing stands between you and that retribution. For instance, men, that bridge there is the key to the ore output. That represents the bosses. Of course we cannot interfere with their property, but that structure of steel and cement was made possible by the sweat of your brows. It was you who mined the ore for the steel from which the bridge was constructed. It was you who made its building a possibility. And now it rises up as if to mock you. Do not misunderstand me; I warn you against violence, but there are limits to man's endurance, especially if that man have dependent upon him a wife and children."
A low murmur ran over the assemblage. The murmur increased in volume until it became a roar.
"Men, men; I beg of you to be calm!" shouted Cavard.
"The bridge! The bridge!" thundered the multitude.
"Down with the bridge!"
The mob surged toward the structure as one man.