"So this is your—ultimatum," the manager said at last, with something of his best snarling grouch in his harsh voice. "Mr. Hendrie's got to cut out one hundred and eighty-three niggers from this place, all slap-up workers, who don't break up every blamed machine they put their hands on, because you white boys are kicking at their color." One of the men made a movement as though about to interrupt, but Angus silenced him with a gesture. "Hold on," he cried. "Guess I listened to you all you needed. I hadn't a word while you boys were gassing. Now I need to do some talk. Seein' I'm busy I'm not going to waste my time on you. So just get this, and get it good and quick. I'm running this layout. I'm paying you your wages. I'm boss. I'll run the place as I see fit. If you don't like it you can go—to hell!"
"They're undercuttin' us in price," cried one of the men, with an oath.
"They're being paid the same wages as you are—according to their class of work," retorted Angus sharply.
"Then they've no right to it, they're bl—— niggers," cried the same man.
Angus's eyes snapped.
"I don't care a cuss if they're Red Indians or Chinamen," he snarled.
"See here, Mr. Moraine," cried another, "we come here like men to tell you what's doing, so it's up to you. We refuse to work alongside a lousy crowd o' niggers. Try and force it on us, and there's not a blamed soul among us whites'll handle a binder this harvest. Your crops can rot till they stink. Every white man on this layout quits at sun-down to-day."
Angus rose from his chair, and his lean figure was bent forward as he supported himself with one hand on the desk.
"You can take your damned 'times' now," he cried fiercely. Then he shot one hand in the direction of the door. "There's the door," he shouted. "Get to hell—through it."
The three muttering figures retreated hastily. They knew this man's methods too well to hesitate. They had been chosen by their comrades to represent them, and they had carried out their mission in good faith. But from the outset they had little enough hope of success. Men on that farm had attempted to bluff Angus before. But the hard-faced Scot was a match for any man he employed. Physically he knew no fear, and his contempt for the "hired man" was profound.