by to-day. They was goin' to pick ye out like cullin's, an' toss ye to the scrap-heap."
"Right you are, Bricky," came a voice from the audience.
"Right I am it is. Ye didn't strike for me when it comes to that; ye struck for your own jobs. Ye could 'a' counted me out any day. Ye knew that. I told ye so. I wouldn't stand in the way o' one o' ye. I'd 'a' left the town; I'd 'a' left the country; I'd 'a' gone an' hung meself to 'a' got one man's job back for 'im."
"Good boy, Bricky!"
"Ye knew that, didn't ye? But ye stood out like men, an' they've starved ye like rats. They couldn't 'a' treated dogs no worse 'an they've treated you. I went with the comity to see the old man. I promised everything. I crawled on me belly to 'im, an'—ye heard the report—he kicked us all out."
"We'll get him yet!" came a cry from the benches.
"Ye will if ye'll listen to me. They say call the strike off an' git out. Men, ye can't git out that way. It's death to ye if ye try it. Maybe it's death anyway, I don't know; but if it is I'll die a-fightin'."
"So will I!" "And I!" "And I!"
"That's right! If ye fight, an' fight like hell, ye'll win. I know. They can't run their mills with scabs. You won't let 'em run their mills with scabs. I'll smash the head o' the first scab that takes my job. It ain't his job; it's mine. I've got a right to it. Them jobs down there are yours. Them machines down there are yours. You earned the money that bought 'em. You've got a right to run 'em, an' if ye do what I tell ye, ye will run 'em. The man that lays down now an' lets Dick Malleson tread on 'is neck is a damned fool!"
"That's right, Bricky! Go for 'em! Give 'em hell!"
The passions of the crowd, swayed by Bricky's rude
eloquence, were being roused to the fighting pitch.
