Part 32 (1/2)

The works seemed to be very melancholy and strange, but we went there regularly enough, and when we had a fire going and stayed in there was no doubt about the matter; we were watched.

Piter grew quite well again, and in his thick head there seemed to be an idea that he had been very badly used, for, as he walked close at my heels, I used to see him give the workmen very ugly looks in a side wise fas.h.i.+on that I used to call measuring legs.

One morning my uncles said that they should not go to the works that day, and as they did not seem to want me I thought I would go back and put a project I had in my mind in force.

I had pa.s.sed the night at the works in company with Uncle Jack, and all had been perfectly quiet, so, putting some bones in the basket for Piter, I also thrust in some necessaries for the task I had in hand, and started.

About half-way there I met Gentles, the fat-faced grinder, and he shut his eyes at me and slouched up in his affectionate way.

”Ah! Mester Jacob,” he said, ”when's this here unhappy strike going to end?”

”When the rascals who stole our bands bring them back,” I said, ”and return to their work.”

”Ah!” he sighed, ”I'm afraid they wean't do that, my lad. Hedn't the mesters better give in, and not make no more noofangle stoof?”

”Oh, that's what you think, is it, Gentles?” I said.

”Who? Me, mester? Oh, no: I'm only a pore hardworking chap who wants to get back to his horse. It's what the other men say. For my part I wishes as there was no unions, stopping a man's work and upsetting him; that I do. Think the mesters'll give in, Mester Jacob, sir?”

”I'm sure they will not, Gentles,” I said, ”and you had better tell the men so.”

”Nay, I durstn't tell 'em. Oh, dear, no, Mester Jacob, sir. I'm a quiet peaceable man, I am. I on'y wants to be let alone.”

I went on, thinking, and had nearly reached the lane by the works, when I met Pannell, who was smoking a short black pipe.

”h.e.l.lo!” he cried.

”h.e.l.lo! Pannell,” I said.

”Goin' to open wucks, and let's get on again, lad?”

”Whenever you men like to bring back the bands and apologise, Pannell.”

”Nay, I've got nowt to 'pologise for. I did my wuck, and on'y wanted to be let alone.”

”But you know who took the bands,” I cried. ”You know who tried to poison our poor dog and tried to blow up the furnace, now don't you?”

He showed his great teeth as he looked full at me.

”Why, my lad,” he said, ”yow don't think I'm going to tell, do 'ee?”

”You ought to tell,” I cried. ”I'm sure you know; and it's a cowardly shame.”

”Ay, I s'pose that's what you think,” he said quietly. ”But, say, lad, isn't it time wuck began again?”

”Time! Yes,” I said. ”Why don't you take our side, Pannell; my uncles are your masters?”

”Ay, I know that, lad,” said the big smith quietly; ”but man can't do as he likes here i' Arrowfield. Eh, look at that!”

”Well, mate,” said a rough voice behind me; and I saw the smith start as Stevens, the fierce grinder, came up, and without taking any notice of me address the smith in a peculiar way, fixing him with his eye and clapping him on the shoulder.