“To arms! To arms, ye brave!
March on, march on, all hearts resolved
On victory or death!”
There were the oppressed of many nations in this crowd; they sang in a score of languages, but it was the same song. They would sing a few bars, and the yells of others would drown them out. “March on! March on! All hearts resolved!” Some rushed away in different directions to spread the news, and very soon the whole population of the village was on the spot; the men waving their caps, the women lifting up their hands and shrieking—or standing terrified, realising that babies could not be fed upon revolutionary singing.
Tim Rafferty was raised up on the shoulders of the crowd and made to tell his story once more. While he was telling it, his old mother came running, and her shrieks rang above the clamour: “Tim! Tim! Come down from there! What's the matter wid ye?” She was twisting her hands together in an agony of fright; seeing Hal, she rushed up to him. “Get him out of there, Joe! Sure, the lad's gone crazy! They'll turn us out of the camp, they'll give us nothin' at all—and what'll become of us? Mother of God, what's the matter with the b'y?” She called to Tim again; but Tim paid no attention, if he heard her. Tim was on the march to Versailles!
Some one shouted that they would go to the hospital to protect the injured men from the “damned lawyers.” Here was something definite, and the crowd moved in that direction, Hal following with the stragglers, the women and children, and the less bold among the men. He noticed some of the clerks and salaried employés of the company; presently he saw Jeff Cotton again, and heard him ordering these men to the office to get revolvers.
“Big Jack” David came along with Jerry Minetti, and Hal drew back to consult with them. Jerry was on fire. It had come—the revolt he had been looking forward to for years! Why were they not making speeches, getting control of the men and organising them?
Jack David voiced uncertainty. They had to consider if this outburst could mean anything permanent.
Jerry answered that it would mean what they chose to make it mean. If they took charge, they could guide the men and hold them together. Wasn't that what Tom Olson had wanted?
No, said the big Welshman, Olson had been trying to organise the men secretly, as preliminary to a revolt in all the camps. That was quite another thing from an open movement, limited to one camp. Was there any hope of success for such a movement? If not, they would be foolish to start, they would only be making sure of their own expulsion.
Jerry turned to Hal. What did he think?
And so at last Hal had to speak. It was hard for him to judge, he said. He knew so little about labour matters. It was to learn about them that he had come to North Valley. It was a hard thing to advise men to submit to such treatment as they had been getting; but on the other hand, any one could see that a futile outbreak would discourage everybody, and make it harder than ever to organise them.
So much Hal spoke; but there was more in his mind, which he could not speak. He could not say to these men, “I am a friend of yours, but I am also a friend of your enemy, and in this crisis I cannot make up my mind to which side I owe allegiance. I'm bound by a duty of politeness to the masters of your lives; also, I'm anxious not to distress the girl I am to marry!” No, he could not say such things. He felt himself a traitor for having them in his mind, and he could hardly bring himself to look these men in the eye. Jerry knew that he was in some way connected with the Harrigans; probably he had told the rest of Hal's friends, and they had been discussing it and speculating about the meaning of it. Suppose they should think he was a spy?
So Hal was relieved when Jack David spoke firmly. They would only be playing the game of the enemy if they let themselves be drawn in prematurely. They ought to have the advice of Tom Olson.
Where was Olson? Hal asked; and David explained that on the day when Hal had been thrown out of camp, Olson had got his “time” and set out for Sheridan, the local headquarters of the union, to report the situation. He would probably not come back; he had got his little group together, he had planted the seed of revolt in North Valley.
They discussed back and forth the problem of getting advice. It was impossible to telephone from North Valley without everything they said being listened to; but the evening train for Pedro left in a few minutes, and “Big Jack” declared that some one ought to take it. The town of Sheridan was only fifteen or twenty miles from Pedro, and there would be a union official there to advise them; or they might use the long distance telephone, and persuade one of the union leaders in Western City to take the midnight train, and be in Pedro next morning.
Hal, still hoping to withdraw himself, put this task off on Jack David. They emptied out the contents of their pockets, so that he might have funds enough, and the big Welshman darted off to catch the train. In the meantime Jerry and Hal agreed to keep in the background, and to seek out the other members of their group and warn them to do the same.