CHAPTER XXIV
_The Gathering to its Own_
Had Firmstone known of Hartwell's move, which was to bring affairs to animmediate and definite crisis, his actions would have been shaped alongdifferent lines.
But the only one who could have given this knowledge blindly withheld ituntil it was beyond his power to give. At the mill Firmstone noticed adecided change in Luna. The foreman was sullen in look and act. Heanswered Firmstone's questions almost insolently, but not with opendefiance. His courage was not equal to giving full voice to his sullenhatred. Firmstone paid little heed to the man's behaviour, thinking itonly a passing mood. After a thorough inspection of the mill, hereturned to the office.
"Mr. Hartwell said, if you inquired for him, that I was to tell you hehad gone for a drive." The man anticipated his duty before Firmstoneinquired.
"Very well," Firmstone replied, as he entered the office.
He busied himself at his desk for a long time. Toward night he orderedhis horse to be saddled. He had determined to go to the mine. He haddecided to move with a strong hand, to force his authority on therebellious, as if it had not been questioned, as if he himself had noquestion as to whether it would be sustained. Hartwell had refused toindicate his position; he would force him to act, if not to speak. Hisafter course events would decide; but half-way measures were no longerto be tolerated.
As he rode by the Falls, he met Zephyr on his way down. Zephyr was thefirst to speak.
"A weather-cock," he remarked, "has a reputation for instability ofcharacter which it does not deserve. It simply pays impartial attentionto a breeze or a hurricane. In fact, it's alive to anything that's goingin the wind line. We call a weather-cock fickle and a man wide-awake fordoing the same thing." He paused, looking inquiringly at Firmstone.
Firmstone was in anything but an allegorical mood, yet he knew thatZephyr had something of interest to communicate, and so restrained anymanifestation of impatience which he might have felt.
"Well?" he answered.
"Say, Goggles"--Zephyr continued his allegory--"I've studiedweather-cocks. I take note that when one of them so-called fickle-mindedinanimates goes jerking around the four cardinal points and feeling ofwhat's between, it's just responding to the fore-running snorts of apull-up and come-along cyclone. That's why I'm bobbing up and down likean ant looking for its long-lost brother. There's a cyclone on its way,Goggles, and it's going to light hereabouts right soon."
"I guess you're right, Zephyr." Firmstone gathered his reins,preparatory to resuming his way, but Zephyr laid a detaining hand on thehorse's neck.
It was not in Zephyr to make haste easily. His undulating shouldersindicated a necessity for immediate speech. The words, sizzling frombetween closed lips, were a compromise.
"You have more sense than many weather-cocks, and more sand than agravel train." Zephyr's face began to twitch. "Wait!" The word cameforth explosively; the detaining hand grasped the bridle firmly. "Say,Goggles, I was dead wrong. Do you hear? About Elise. You remember? Atthe Devil's Elbow. She ain't Pierre's girl. She's as much of a lady asyou are. Keep still! Listen! A hurricane ain't got sense. It'll pull upa weed as quick as an oak. It's coming. For the love of God and meespecially, if I get pulled, look out for her! Say yes, and go along.Don't fool with me! You'll swallow a barrel of water to get a drink ofwhisky."
Firmstone only stretched out his hand. Zephyr took it for an instant,then flung it aside. The next moment he was striding down the trail.Firmstone heard the strain of the jarring reeds of the harmonica shrilltriumphantly, penetrated now and then by louder notes as a plunging stepjarred a stronger breath through his lips.
At the mine, Firmstone found his work cut out for him. On the narrowplatform of the mine boarding-house, the foreman was standing with hiscap shoved far back on his head, his hands in his pockets. There was aninsolent poise to the head that only intensified the sneering smile onthe lips. He was surrounded by a dozen or more of the men whom Firmstonehad marked as makers of trouble.
"Well, what in hell you up here for? Think I can't run a mine?" Theforeman called into play every expression of coarse contempt at hiscommand.
"Not this one for me. Go into the office, and I'll make out your time."
The foreman did not move.
Firmstone made no threatening gesture as he advanced. The foreman's eyeswavered, cast behind him at the gaping men, then he turned as Firmstoneordered.
In the office Firmstone wrote out a time check and tendered it to theman.
"Now pack up and get down the hill."
There were discordant cries outside that grew nearer and more distinct.As the foreman opened the door to pass out he flung back a defiant grin,but his words were drowned by a babel of voices that were surging intothe ante-room from the platform and dining-room. Firmstone closed andlocked the office door behind him. In an instant he was surrounded by acrowd of gesticulating, shouting men. There was a spreading pressure onall sides, as men were pushed back from an opening ring in the centre ofthe room. A man with blood-stained face rose, only to be again hurled tothe floor by a stunning blow. Firmstone crushed his way into the ring.
"No fighting here."
The man dropped his eyes.
"I ain't going to be called down by no scab."
"If you want to fight, get off the company's grounds!" Firmstone movedbetween them.
"I want my time." The man's eyes were still downcast.
"You'll get it."
The ring closed up again.
"Are we let out?"
"The whole push fired?"
A burly, red-faced man pushed his way to the front.
"Say, Mr. Firmstone! Don't make no mistake. This ain't you. You're thewhitest boss that ever looked down my shirt collar. That's so. That'swhat the boys all say. Just you pull out from the company and go withus. We'll carry you right up to glory on the back of a fire-snortingalligator."
Firmstone paid no attention to the man. He went from end to end of theroom. The men gave way in front, only closing in behind. There was ahushed silence.
"There's no shut-down. Any man who wants work can have it and be takencare of. Any one who wants to quit, come for your time right now!"
As Firmstone again turned toward the office he was conscious for thefirst time of a thick-set man with kindly eyes, now steely-hard, whofollowed his every motion. It was the night-shift boss.
"You're with me?"
"You bet, and plenty more."
"Hold them down. Send the men in, one by one, who want to quit. Howabout the magazine?"
"All right. Two men and four guns. They're with you till hell freezes,and then they'll skate."
It was midnight before the last man called for his time. Firmstone laiddown his pen.
"I'm shy a foreman. Will you take the job?" Firmstone addressed theshift boss.
"Yes, till you can do better."
"All right. You better move around pretty lively for to-night. I'll stayin the office till morning."
The man left the office. He had not been gone long before there was atimid knock at the office door.
"Come in," Firmstone called.
The door was opened hesitatingly and two men entered. They stood withlowered eyes, shifting their caps from hand to hand, and awkwardlybalancing from foot to foot.
"Well?" Firmstone spoke sharply.
"Me and my partner want our jobs back."
"You'll have to see Roner. He's foreman now."
"Where is he?"
"In the mine."
"Can we take our bunks till morning, sir?"
"Yes."
The men left the office. Outside, their manner changed. Nudging elbowsgrated each other's ribs. The darkness hid their winks.
Firmstone had made a sad mistake. He was not omniscient. The men knewwhat he did not. They had been down to the Blue Goose and had returnedwith a mission.