“There ain’t any better time than now,” replied the latter, seizing his arm and drawing him back.
“Here, here, don’t fight,” cried some one. “Go on, Cleary, there may be something better than a fellow-workman to try your muscle on before long.” The crowd came closer and pushed between the two men. With many signs of reluctance, but willingly withal, Cleary allowed himself to be hustled away. The crowd dispersed, but Jason Andrews knew that he had only temporarily quieted the turmoil in the breasts of the men. It would break out very soon again, he told himself. Musing thus, he took his homeward way. As he reached the open road on the rise that led to his cabin, he heard the report of a pistol, and a shot clipped a rock three or four paces in front of him.
“With the compliments of Red Cleary,” said Jason, with a hard laugh. “The coward!”
All next day, an ominous calm brooded over the little mining settlement. The black workmen went to their labours unmolested, and the hope that their hardships were over sprang up in the hearts of some. But there were two men who, without being informed, knew better. These were Jason Andrews and big Sam, and chance threw the two together. It was as the black was returning alone from the mine after the day’s work was over.
“The strikers didn’t bother you any to-day, I noticed,” said Andrews.
Sam Bowles looked at him with suspicion, and then, being reassured by the honest face and friendly manner, he replied: “No, not to-day, but there ain’t no tellin’ what they’ll do to-night. I don’t like no sich sudden change.”
“You think something is brewing, eh?”
“It looks mighty like it, I tell you.”
“Well, I believe that you’re right, and you’ll do well to keep a sharp lookout all night.”