The Ancient Grudge/Chapter 19
XIX
COLONEL HALKET ADDRESSES AN AUDIENCE
On the evening of the fifteenth of May there was more purpose of movement in the streets of New Rome than was customary in the late and lingering twilight of a May day. The yellow Halket Library, with its Moorish towers and arches, standing on the smoky hill-top, gathered to itself the rays from the sun expiring across the river; they shone out from a suddenly blazing ember of cloud, tinseled for a moment a few little houses on the lower slope, and then, fading slowly upward, brightened the terraced steps and yellow walls and red tiled roof of the building that, as Colonel Halket said, crowned New Rome. And at the hour when the building seemed thus to be drawing and concentrating to itself the dwindling light, it was also summoning the toilers from all parts of the town. From the side streets they flowed into the main ascending thoroughfare that usually in the evening reclined quiet and empty against the slope of the hill; they mounted slowly to the terraced steps, and there the women and children who sometimes accompanied the men stood aside or strolled about on the green lawn, while the men continued on upwards and disappeared into one of the dark Moorish arches.
The occasion was one of some ceremony, for nearly all the men wore coats, even though it was a warm evening, and many of them had gone home from the works an hour before displaying undershirt and suspenders. Collars were less frequent than cutaways, however,—as if, having made a concession in one matter, a man was entitled to insist upon an equivalent in another. One might have remarked a grim, an almost intentional lack of refinement, a grim prejudice against compromise that seemed on this evening especially characteristic of these men. They approached the Halket Library with sullen reluctance and apprehension.
Inside the doors of the Auditorium there was the subdued atmosphere of a church. At ten minutes to eight o'clock when were sitting in the aisles and standing at the back office hall, and their talk was all in murmurs. The only disturbing sounds proceeded from without, as constantly increasing numbers of people tried to enter. Perhaps one reason for the constraint which lay upon the great room was to be found in the presence of the reception committee on the platform—six men, seated in a formal semi-circle, with a chilling gap in the middle, where was placed an empty, significant chair. There was a vacant chair also on the extreme right for Tustin, the organizer of this committee, who was in the dressing-room awaiting the arrival of the speaker. His associates he had sent out on the platform to impart dignity to the meeting. He had written to Colonel Halket that the iron-workers desired to show him some special mark of respect on the occasion of his address and proposed, if it was not distasteful to him, that it should take the form of a committee of welcome. Colonel Halket, after returning heart-felt thanks for the proposed honor, had exhibited Tustin's letter to Floyd triumphantly.
"That shows!" he had cried. "And this Tustin's the fellow that a few days ago, according to your account, was trying to inflame the people against me! I knew that all they needed was time to think things over, and they'd come round."
"Well," said Floyd, "I'm perfectly willing to come round."
Because of this acquiescence and his own rising good humor over the turn that affairs had taken, Colonel Halket had at the last moment invited the young man to accompany him to the meeting and witness his triumph.
They alighted from their carriage at a side entrance a few minutes before the hour and went into the ante-room. Tustin had been sitting there alone with his hat on, studying a dirty little memorandum book, which he now replaced in his pocket. He rose and took off his bat.
"My name's Tustin, Colonel Halket," he said, "and I'm to have the privilege of introducing you to-night."
Colonel Halket laid his silk hat on the table and advancing toward Tustin with a smile held out his hand.
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Tustin,—glad to have your help in getting myself before this audience. Mr. Tustin, my grandson, Mr. Halket."
Floyd nodded. "We've met before," he said; and Tustin shot him a remembering, unfriendly glance.
"We were n't looking for any one extra," Tustin said, with his eyes still on Floyd. "You did n't mention about bringing any one, Colonel, so we've got chairs just for the committee and yourself."
"I suppose a chair could be taken out from this room," Floyd remarked.
"Yes," Tustin admitted reluctantly. "There's hardly space on the platform for another chair,—that is," he hastened to add, "as it's arranged."
"Then I'll go down and sit below the platform or stand against the wall; I don't want to upset the arrangements," Floyd said,—"unless you prefer to have me sit with you, Grandfather."
It was an intimation to Tustin that he and his committee might very easily and conveniently be ignored. But Colonel Halket said,—
"No, no; I'm in the hands of my friends here; I don't need any family support. I'd rather have you down in the audience."
So Floyd followed a narrow passageway and came into one of the side aisles just below the platform. To get a seat was impossible; he squeezed in against the wall between two workingmen, who recognized him and made room. Something in the atmosphere, as he looked about on the assemblage, filled him with apprehension. The suppressed, expectant quiet, the lack of laughter in so large a body of men, were not normal. When he turned his eyes toward the platform he found nothing to reassure him. The reception committee was the executive committee of the Affiliated Iron-Workers—the men who had been active in circulating persistent, annoying demands, inventing small causes of controversy, thrusting themselves forward at all times as the conservators of the rights of Labor. By such means they had contrived to bustle into positions of prominence; the majority of the workingmen had accepted them as leaders. Floyd felt sure that their welcome of his grandfather would be a sinister one; to his mind they represented a tribunal assembled to sit in judgment.
The door at the rear of the platform opened and Tustin came out, followed by Colonel Halket. The six members of the reception committee rose and stood while Tustin led Colonel Halket forward to the chair in the centre. There was no applause; the murmurous quiet of the room had subsided into a deep hush. Colonel Halket, after hesitating a moment, sat down; the six committeemen did the same. Tustin advanced to the edge of the platform.
"Friends," he said, "I introduce to you Colonel Halket."
There was still no applause, though Colonel Halket waited a moment before rising, and so gave every opportunity for a demonstration. Tustin after uttering his brief sentence stepped aside, and going straight to his chair sat down, apparently without noticing Colonel Halket's bow of acknowledgment.
Colonel Halket was disconcerted by the bluntness of the introduction and by the utter lack of applause. He bowed to his audience, but there was no responsive courtesy. Floyd's pulse quickened angrily; standing well to the front, he could see the changing expression on his grandfather's face, and he was indignant that these men should deny their old employer a show of common respect.
"Friends and fellow workmen," Colonel Halket began in a deep, appealing voice, and then waited, this time not in vain. From somewhere in front spurted a vigorous sound of applause—applause rendered by two single hands, which persevered defiantly and woke thin, desultory responses in various spots about the room; and then the mighty rebuking "Sh-h!" of the audience rose and quelled it. But it had answered its purpose. Colonel Halket smiled.
"You are kind," he said, "to grant me your attention; but you are more kind to make this display of feeling for me.
At this there was some laughter, rather loud and sarcastic, in the front part of the room. Floyd stood straight and stared round at the taunting faces unflinchingly; yes, he had applauded his grandfather, and if it would help him any, he would do it again. At the same time he felt a certain sickness of heart; he had not supposed that simply because of a little clapping the old man would make such a foolish remark. Clearly it was a sentence that Colonel Halket had prepared expecting a great ovation and that he had been unwilling to sacrifice. He was proceeding, with characteristic confidence of pose and voice.
"I bring no manuscript to read to you, no oration to deliver, no carefully prepared address to recite. I have come simply to talk to you in a careless, off-hand, frank way about my business,—our business,—I have come to talk to friends."
There was opportunity here for Floyd to insert a little more applause had he dared to do so; but he began to appreciate now that in the temper of the audience a second such effort on his part might provoke a violent counter-demonstration against the speaker.
"Now, it has been reported to me," continued Colonel Halket, "that the proposed merger of the New Rome Works with others into one great corporation has excited some alarm among the employees of Halket & Company. How far that report is true I do not know; but I believe that probably the apprehension of my friends has been diminishing as they have given more thought to the matter. It was perhaps, natural that they should feel some alarm. They were enjoying prosperity; they had been in the enjoyment of prosperity for many years; they could not at once see any advantage to them in a change; they were quite contented to have things go as they were. Indeed, I may confess frankly that my own greatest pride has been in their prosperity and in the comfort they all took in their prosperity."
Floyd suppressed a groan. About him he heard low murmurs of dissatisfaction. He wondered what more unfortunate thing his grandfather could have done than to extol the prosperity of men who had assembled with a grievance. Colonel Halket, however, did not hear the murmurs; he was attentive only to his own line of thought and to the choice of words which might best express it.
"When I come to New Rome and observe its commodious and well-kept homes, and see the bright, happy faces of its women and children, and mark upon its streets the confident, manly tread of its men, and note the many elevating and refining influences with which it has been supplied by the admirable spirit of its citizens, can I wonder that your prosperity is dear to you, and that you must view with suspicion any policy that might tend to derange it? Can I wonder that you wish to cling to a condition that is happy beyond that of other workingmen"—(Floyd detected an exchange of smiles and shrugs among the members of the reception committee, and observed that one sombre, continuous nudge seemed to traverse the audience)—"a condition that you yourselves have created?—For though much has been done for you, you have done even more for yourselves."
Here again Colonel Halket hesitated a moment, and was visibly nonplussed when so magnanimous an admission failed to evoke the anticipated applause.
"No, I do not wonder at it. And I am glad to be here to-night to explain to you all that in my judgment the arrangement by which the Halket Mills are to form the nucleus of a vast new corporation, so far from being detrimental to your interests, is the most beneficent and progressive step that an employer has ever taken on behalf of his employees. I will tell you why I believe this. What we aim at in this new organization is nothing less than the control of the whole iron and steel manufacture in the United States. This once accomplished, what follows? There will be no fluctuation of prices, no inequality of demand and supply, no periods of pressure followed by periods of idleness, but with this greater stability a high, steady level of remuneration for all, which can be depended on as certainly as the rising and the setting of the sun. The spectre of hard times will never stalk upon your streets.
"Now let me tell you something about the nature of this organization." He proceeded with some care to sketch the important features; he recited the various companies that had "come in," and showed that their coöperation insured the success of the plan; then he explained the method of financing the undertaking, and announced with a good deal of impressiveness and enthusiasm a detail which had hitherto not been given out, and which provided that employees of any of the constituent companies should have the privilege of subscribing for a certain amount of stock at a less price than that at which it was afterwards to be offered to the public. "In this manner you may not only make a profitable investment, but you are given an opportunity to become yourselves employers of labor and to share in the profits of the great enterprise which you have helped to build up. It will be an incentive to thrift and a permanent source of satisfaction.
"Not only has there been this just and generous provision made; I may go further and state to you here and as it were privately that you iron-workers of New Rome are to be the favored people in this new combination.
"I hope, as your employer, to lead you into the promised land of labor, into Canaan—or, as I may say, recalling the name of the first iron-worker and venturing upon a pun, into the land of Tubal Cainaan." This jeu d" esprit met with no favor whatever. But Colonel Halket, in spite of the discouraging dullness of his audience, continued bravely, "You are, as I have said, to form the nucleus. These works are now, as you all know, the most important of their kind in the country, and in combination with other mills they must always hold a position of leadership. This position is one in which the workmen will inevitably share. This means that the advantages of opportunity will all lie with you. There is no reason why your advancement should not be rapid and sure; there is no reason why any faithful and competent workman among you should not end his days as mill foreman or better. I do not want you to feel that because I am devoting my energies to a larger, a national problem, I shall cease to regard you with the particular interest which I have always felt in your welfare. You will always be to me 'mine own people,' and I trust I shall ever prove myself to you what I have earnestly striven to be all my life—your true and loyal friend.
"If any one among you has any questions to ask, I shall be most happy to answer them."
As he sat down, there was a thin, perfunctory flutter of applause which expired quickly.
Tustin rose and came forward to the edge of the platform.
"Colonel Halket will answer questions," he stated. "Any questions from the floor?"
He stood looking round inquiringly. Floyd resented his assumption of control over the meeting. It was impudent and gratuitous, and he had a hot-headed impulse to challenge it. Then, before he could act so foolishly, the challenge was taken out of his mouth.
"Colonel Halket!" cried a voice, and Floyd, turning his head, saw Hugh Farrell on his feet in the midst of the audience. "Colonel Halket—kindly step one side, Mr. Tustin; I'm addressing Colonel Halket."
He held out a hand, motioning to Tustin to sit down. Tustin stood leaning forward, looking at him with a crooked smile.
"Mr. Farrell has the floor and will address a question to Colonel Halket," he announced. "Let me recommend you to be brief, Mr. Farrell; others desire to speak."
"I don't recognize your authority, Mr. Tustin," cried Farrell hotly. "If you choose to stand there, stand; what I have to say can just as well be said in your face. It concerns you and your gang; stand and take your medicine, or sit down and take it; I don't care."
At this there was a commotion, the scraping of chairs and stamping of feet as men turned to see the speaker, and instantly an ominously general hissing which swept down upon the few scattered outbreaks of applause. The two men stood facing each other angrily; behind Tustin Colonel Halket rose and then hesitated, irresolute and confused. When he could be heard, Tustin shouted in a defiant voice, "I'll give you every advantage, Mr. Farrell; I'll sit down."
He returned to his chair, and seating himself, crossed his legs, thrust his hands into his pockets, and looked carelessly up at the ceiling all through Farrell's speech. And all through it Colonel Halket stood, puzzled, irresolute.
"Colonel Halket," said Hugh, speaking very fast, but clearly and incisively, "once before you've forced some of us into a combination against our will. The Affiliated Iron-Workers came along and you opened wide the gates, and they rushed in and affiliated us. We had to join them or lose our jobs. You told us then that combination was great for us, in union there was strength, and all that. How did it work out? Bad. We ain't allowed to do as much as we can, we ain't allowed to earn as much as we can, we ain't allowed to get ahead as far or as fast as we can. We're leveled down to an average. I don't turn out as many rods in a day as I used to, because I ain't allowed; I don't have as much money in my pocket at the end of the week as I used to, partly because I ain't earning as much and partly because Tustin and that gang sitting round you there has to have their rake-off. We fellows that ain't leaders have no liberty; and the only leadership we have is the leadership of the hindmost. They set the pace and the rest of us go limping along in step. Now you want to put us into another kind of union. The way it looks to me, the same thing will happen. You say these mills here are the best and will set the pace. But when they're in a union with a lot of others, they can't run away from the rest. The little lazy ones have got to be humored, they'll have all kinds of a pull; the ones here must n't work too hard or the others will have to be shut down entirely, and that will never do. So the mills here will have to be kind of scaled down to the level of the little lazy mills in the combine—just the way the good clever men have to be scaled down to the level of the little lazy men in the union. And that will mean shutting off some of the men here from work and economizing on the plant, running three quarters instead of full, and half instead of three quarters—and there won't be as much prosperity then in New Rome as there is now—and there ain't as much now as there was six years ago."
"Your allusions to the situation here are beside the point and quite absurd," declared Colonel Halket testily. "And your ideas about the management of a great corporation are utterly erroneous and illogical. Let me say now, once for all, that there will be no scaling down of the efficiency of these mills."
"Colonel Halket, I protest on behalf of the men that believe as I do and are afraid to speak," cried Farrell, with vehemence, and he went on rapidly, though Tustin had risen and was whispering in Colonel Halket's ear. "They're sitting in this room now—more of them than anybody knows—afraid to speak for fear they'll be persecuted by the union and lose their jobs. They feel as I do about the present and they're afraid of the future. Especially if—"
"You are right, Mr. Tustin," Colonel Halket cut in peremptorily in a voice directed at Farrell. He held out a stern and silencing hand. "The gentleman has spoken long enough; others must be given an opportunity. I have answered your question, sir; kindly sit down."
Farrell bowed and obeyed; there was a convulsive start of applause, whether to celebrate Farrell's effort or his summary suppression Floyd was uncertain. He was himself divided between sympathy for Hugh and anxiety for bis grandfather. For all Colonel Halket's boldly dominating attitude and majestic, rebuking voice, Floyd detected an unwonted and disturbing excitement in the old man's face; he was near enough to see the uncontrollable tremor of his outstretched hand. Colonel Halket had been roused to passionate indignation against an individual workman who had dared to question and oppose his views; his stern, majestic indignation was fortified by a sense that the men behind him on the platform and the mass of the audience were as indignant as he, and as fervent as he in holding to his beliefs. Floyd feared the effect of the imminent disclosure of the truth.
Tustin nodded to one of the committee, a short, bow-legged man with immensely broad, sloping shoulders and a broad head, to which the ears were attached at such an angle that they accentuated the breadth; his face was red and above it grew a stiff standing crop of red hair.
"Mr. Caskey has the floor," Tustin announced.
Caskey stood where he rose and clasped his hands behind his back.
"I've got nothing in common with the man that's just spoke," he said. "He ain't representative, he ain't for anything, or anybody except himself, first, last, and all the time. But I am for the workingman, Colonel Halket, and on behalf of the workingman I am opposed to this combination idea, without reference to anything the speaker before me has said. I am opposed to the combination for this reason. You give us to understand it will be all right for us because you will be running it and will give the mills here the best show. Well, we've got to look ahead. You're quite an old man and not so strong as you once was; maybe you won't last so long as you think. And when you go most likely some other interest will get control, and some other mill will have the pull. Whereas if these mills stay independent, your dying won't make such a great deal of difference to us."
"Sir," said Colonel Halket, with a trembling voice, "it is not necessary to introduce the subject of my death into this discussion."
"We have got to be prepared," Caskey returned brutally. "And not even the best of us lives forever. I am opposed to the combination."
"And what if you are!" cried Colonel Halket, suddenly flaming out with fury. "What business is it of yours? What will you do about it? Oppose it; go ahead; oppose it." He shook his finger scoldingly at the squat, unyielding figure. "I'm not going to die—and if I were, my mills will go on. You are a demagogue—an agitator; sit down, sir; sit down! You oppose my idea, do you?—and what do I care? Oppose it then; what can you do? What can you do?"
"A good many things," Caskey replied. "Not me personally,—but all of us. That's what you've got to reckon with. Colonel Halket—all of us."
Then from the audience, which had sat tense and excited all through the sharp colloquy between the two men, there was a wild outburst of applause. Caskey stood until it had subsided.
"You see," he said, and sat down.
Colonel Halket stood speechless, moving his eyes in a bewildered way across the audience. He turned to the committee behind him and put out his hand as if in a gesture of entreaty, as if he were about to utter an appeal; and then he dropped his hand without speaking, for there was no responsive look on any face. And again he sent his wavering gaze out upon the audience; they all let him stand thus, silent and helpless, and did not make a sound; and Floyd suffered under the cruelty of it.
Then Tustin came forward and began to speak with a suavity, which, Floyd felt sure, veiled a malignant intention.
"Mr. Caskey's given to a plain way of stating things," he said in a conciliatory voice. "But you see how it is, Colonel Halket; there ain't a shadow of a doubt but that just about every workman in New Rome is unanimous against your idea. You see how it is; they've thought it over and they've heard what you have to say for it, and they have n't changed their minds."
"That's right!" interrupted a voice loudly, and that seemed a signal for other approving cries throughout the audience. Then, before Tustin could go on, some one began to clap and stamp, and instantly there was an uproar of applause. Tustin allowed it to last for a few moments; then he put out his controlling hand.
He smiled with a triumphant friendliness and familiarity at Colonel Halket, who stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his head bowed, and his face gloomy and dejected—apparently in the attitude of surrender.
"Colonel Halket," Tustin said, "we do not for a moment question the purpose with which you lent your influence to the scheme of combination. We don't doubt that you foresaw for us many advantages, and that you wished to give us the benefit. But these men here are convinced that there is another side to the shield. They may be wrong—but they are so convinced that no argument of yours or any one's can move them. And so the most generous message you can bring them, the message that would be received with enthusiasm and acclaim, and that would cause the heart of every workingman here to beat high with thankfulness, would be the announcement that the Halket Mills would not enter the combination."
He bowed to Colonel Halket and sat down, and another great outburst of applause swept forward through the hall. Floyd's eyes were fixed on his grandfather with a critical sympathy. The old man suddenly turned his back on Tustin and flung out one hand towards the audience with an effective violence.
"Men," he cried, and the appealing, outstretched hand quivered like his voice, "you have followed me here—you have followed my leadership for many years. Have I been harsh with you? Have I been intolerant or unjust? I have led you onward into prosperity and happiness, I have given you liberty and liberality, I—I have not interfered with your personal freedom—you have organized, you have chosen your own guides—not always wisely, if one may judge from what has been spoken here to-night. Now I ask you—when I have laid a proposition before you, when I have asserted my leadership over you for a definite end, has it not always resulted to your advantage? Will you trust these short-sighted leaders of a day rather than me, your leader of a lifetime? Do you believe me either unable or unwilling to carry out my promises to you? I appeal to you against the speeches that have been made from this platform—I appeal to you not to let yourselves be led astray; I appeal not only to your sense of what is just and generous to me, but also to your sense of what is for your own best interests. And finally I say and I declare"—and Floyd was himself thrilled by the passionate intensity and power which suddenly rose and broke in his grandfather's voice—"that however you or your leaders respond to my appeal, this combination is going through."
He stood for one moment a majestic and commanding figure, but his defiant declaration drew from his audience no faintest echo of applause. He turned to leave the platform, but Tustin had risen, and with one arm outstretched prevented him.
"Colonel Halket," Tustin cried, "there is one thing more to say." He advanced slowly to the edge of the platform, and Colonel Halket, responding unconsciously, advanced with him, watching his face. "I want to say," Tustin proclaimed, lifting up his voice, "that Colonel Halket has been given every opportunity this evening. We did n't want to hurt his feelings. We let him have the chance to retire gracefully. He did n't need to lose anything by giving in. But he has rejected the opportunity. He tramples on the wishes of this audience, he spits upon the will of the people of New Rome. The time for consideration is past. Colonel Halket has given his ultimatum; he will now hear ours."
Suddenly men were on their feet, cheering and waving their arms; and in an instant their enthusiasm had spread over the whole audience; the room was in an uproar of acclamation for Tustin's dramatic defiance. Colonel Halket folded his arms, advanced one foot, and gazed upwards; but his lips were compressed and Floyd was near enough to see that the stern old jaw was quivering.
"Colonel Halket says he has given us liberty, and treated us with liberality," cried Tustin in an envenomed voice. "He dares to say this on the very night when he invites us to sell ourselves into slavery,—and to contribute from our earnings part of the purchase price. That is all that his generous provision for our buying stock in his new corporation means. Does he offer to sell us bonds? Oh, no; he holds the bonds, and all the profits of the business will go to pay the interest on the bonds, and the stock is worthless, and after you have taken your share of it off the hands of the promoters—will you get any dividends?—Will the price go above the price you paid? No; you're sold into slavery—and you're stripped before you're sold!"
"Stop!" shouted Colonel Halket, turning upon him with a sudden, surprising vigor. "You—you—dare!"
Breath and words together failed him; he stood gasping, shaking a clenched fist at Tustin. Floyd had started forward at the moment of his grandfather's interruption; now he sprang upon the platform and stepped abruptly between Colonel Halket and the labor leader. He took his grandfather's trembling arm and held it in a firm yet gentle grasp; Tustin stood silent, sneering at him.
Floyd faced the audience.
"Gentlemen, this meeting is at an end," he said in a clear, decisive voice.
"Keep your seats!" Tustin commanded, holding the audience down with a gesture of both hands. "I've got more to say."
He moved toward Floyd and Colonel Halket. Floyd turned his back upon him and tried to lead his grandfather from the platform, but the old man threw Floyd's hand off impatiently.
"You talk to us, Colonel Halket, about our liberty. We've got our liberty and we mean to keep it. We don't propose to risk it selling ourselves to a corporation. We're afraid of that corporation of yours, Colonel Halket. We're afraid that the first move it would make would be against the source of all our liberty—which is not you, Colonel Halket, but the union. We believe that you and the other men with you are organizing your scheme to crush out the union—the thing that makes it possible for me to talk to you as I am talking now without fear of the consequences—the thing that has at last enabled the laboring-man to talk to the employer as the employer has talked to the laboring-man for two thousand years—the thing with whose power behind me I now demand, Colonel Halket, that here and now you announce the Halket Steel Company will not be a party to any combination."
Men climbed on the seats and shouted, waving their hats; everywhere throughout the hall men were standing, cheering and stamping; it was applause that came up to Colonel Halket like the roar of merciless wild beasts. Tustin stood looking, with his crooked smile, out upon the throbbing, tossing tumult; Colonel Halket stood waiting with bowed head, resisting only Floyd, who plucked entreatingly at his arm. At last Tustin raised both hands above his head and waved them out and down, out and down, until he had hushed the audience to a sullen grumble.
"We are waiting to hear you speak, Colonel Halket," he said; and almost instantly the hall became still.
"And if I refuse?" said Colonel Halket, without raising his head, and in a voice so low that only those in the front part of the hall could hear.
"If you refuse!" repeated Tustin in his loud, triumphant voice. "That moment I proclaim a strike, and you will see how all these men respond." Another roar of applause broke out, but Tustin quelled it before it had risen to its height. "A strike, Colonel Halket; and where will your combination be? Who will buy your stock? A strike now, Colonel Halket, and we will force you to confess publicly failure and defeat."
"Tell them to strike and be damned!" Floyd shouted the counsel in his grandfather's ear while the audience raised again its intimidating applause.
But Colonel Halket stood silent and dazed, murmuring aloud, "If I refuse! Told that I want to cheat my men! Threatened with a strike! If I refuse!" He stood murmuring such disjointed, feeble exclamations to himself even when quiet had fallen on the audience. Sharp cries of "Answer!" "Answer!" broke from the hall.
"We must have your answer," cried Tustin. "Colonel Halket, will you withdraw your plan?"
Colonel Halket raised his head feebly and looked out on the audience.
"I—I suppose so," he said in a faint voice, and then he turned and walked slowly from the platform, while the storm of applause acclaimed his surrender and retreat. He walked firmly enough until he reached the ante-room; then he leaned a little on Floyd's arm.
"Get me home, Floyd, get me home," he said feebly.
Floyd helped him in silence down the steps to the street, where the carriage was in waiting. For one moment they were in the peaceful silence of the May night, a silence across which even the grim diapason from the dragon-like mills below quivered not so ungently; then suddenly there burst from the main portico of the building a clamor of voices that seemed to the old man brutal, ferocious even, as with the thirst of pursuit. Floyd felt his hand tremble and heard him say, "Hurry, hurry!" They sat in the open carriage and drove slowly down the hill, while beside them, along the steps of the main entrance, along the sidewalk, and dimly illuminated by the yellow-globed electric lights of the portico above, streamed the crowd, boisterous, cheering, hooting. While the carriage passed, Colonel Halket sat erect, gazing ahead in the darkness as sternly as a soldier; but when the crowd had been left behind and there was no one but his grandson to see, he sank back and closed his eyes.