Having settled the matter of the committee, Hal told the assembly how Alec Stone had asked him to spy upon the men. He thought they should know about it; the bosses might try to use it against him, as Olson had warned. “They may tell you I'm a traitor,” he said. “You must trust me.” “We trust you!” exclaimed Mike, with fervour; and the others nodded their agreement.
“All right,” Hal answered. “You can rest sure of this one thing—if I get onto that tipple, you're going to get your weights!”
“Hear, hear!” cried “Big Jack,” in English fashion. And a murmur ran about the room. They did not dare make much noise, but they made clear that that was what they wanted.
Hal sat down, and began to unroll the bandage from his wrist. “I guess I'm through with this,” he said, and explained how he had come to wear it.
“What?” cried Old Mike. “You fool me like that?” And he caught the wrist, and when he had made sure there was no sign of swelling upon it, he shook it so that he almost sprained it really, laughing until the tears ran down his cheeks. “You old son-of-a-gun!” he exclaimed. Meantime Klowoski was telling the story to Zamierowski, and Jerry Minetti was explaining it to Wresmak, in the sort of pidgin-English which does duty in the camps. Hal had never seen such real laughter since coming to North Valley.
But conspirators cannot lend themselves long to merriment. They came back to business again. It was agreed that the hour for the committee's visit to the superintendent should be quitting-time on the morrow. And then John Edstrom spoke, suggesting that they should agree upon their course of action in case they were offered violence.
“You think there's much chance of that?” said some one.
“Sure there be!” cried Mike Sikoria. “One time in Cedar Mountain we go see boss, say air-course blocked. What you think he do them fellers? He hit them one lick in nose, he kick them three times in behind, he run them out!”
“Well,” said Hal, “if there's going to be anything like that, we must be ready.”
“What you do?” demanded Jerry.
It was time for Hal's leadership. “If he hits me one lick in the nose,” he declared, “I'll hit him one lick in the nose, that's all.”
There was a bit of applause at this. That was the way to talk! Hal tasted the joys of his leadership. But then his fine self-confidence met with a sudden check—a “lick in the nose” of his pride, so to speak. There came a woman's voice from the corner, low and grim: “Yes! ............