“Going very well, are they? We’ve been told they are near giving in.”
“Who told you that?”
“The bosses of the factory here.”
“Then they were fooling you, in order to keep you here.”
“That’s a lie! And what d’you mean by saying it’s a worse look-out for us? Out with it, now!”
“We shall never get regular work again. The comrades are winning—and when they begin work again they’ll demand that we others shall be locked out.”
“The devil—and they’ve promised us the best positions!” cried a great smith. “But you’re a liar! That you are! And why did you come here if they are nearly winning outside? Answer me, damn it all! A man doesn’t come slinking into this hell unless he’s compelled!”
“To leave his comrades in the lurch, you might add,” replied Pelle harshly. “I wanted to see how it feels to strike the bread away from the mouths of the starving.”
“That’s a lie! No one would be so wicked! You are making fools of us, you devil!”
“Give him a thrashing,” said another. “He’s playing a crooked game. Are you a spy, or what do you want here? Do you belong to those idiots outside?”