Patience Wins Part 26

Gentles was among them, smoking a short black pipe, and he shut his eyes at me as we pa.s.sed, which was his way of bestowing upon me a smile.

When we pa.s.sed through the gate the men followed as if we were a set of doctors about to put something right for them, and as if they had been waiting for us to come.

Uncle Bob was standing by the door as we came across the yard, and as soon as we reached him he turned in and we followed.

There was no occasion for him to speak; he just walked along the great workshop, pointing to right and left, and we saw at once why the men were idling about.

Few people who read this will have any difficulty in understanding what wheel-bands are. They used to be very common in the streets, joining the wheels of the knife-grinders' barrows, and now in almost every house they are seen in the domestic treadle sewing-machine. Similar to these, but varying in size, are the bands in a factory. They may be broad flat leather straps of great weight and size, formed by sewing many lengths together, or they may be string-like cords of twisted catgut. They all come under the same name, and there were scores in our works connecting the shaft wheels of the main shaft turned by the water-power with the grindstones of the lower floor and the lathes and polishers of the upper. By these connections wheel, stone, and chuck were set spinning-round. Without them everything was at a stand-still.

As we walked down between the grindstones it was plain enough to see-- every wheel-band had been cut.

It was the same upstairs--broad bands and cords all had been divided with a sharp knife, and Uncle Bob held a piece of whetstone in his hand which had been thrown down by the door, evidently after being used by the miscreant who had done this cowardly trick.

As we went upstairs and saw the mischief there the men followed us like a flock of sheep, waiting to see what we should do, for they were perforce idle. Only the smiths could work, for by accident or oversight the band which connected the shaft with the blowing apparatus had escaped, and as we stood there by the office door we could hear the _clink clink_ of the hammers upon the anvils and the pleasant roar of each forge.

"Hallo! What's this?" cried Uncle Jack as he caught sight of something white on the office door, which proved to be a letter stuck on there by a common wooden-handled shoemakers' knife having been driven right through it.

"I did not see that before," said Uncle Bob excitedly.

"No, because it was not there," said Uncle Jack. "I should have seen it if it had been there when I came out of the office first."

"And _I_ am sure that I should have seen it," said Uncle Bob.

The letter was opened and read by Uncle Jack, who pa.s.sed it on to his brothers.

They read it in turn, and it was handed to me, when I read as follows:

"_This hear's the nif as coot them weel-bans. Stope makhin noo kine steel, or be strang and bad for wurks_."

"Come in the office and let's talk it over," said Uncle Bob. "This must have been placed here by someone in the works."

"Yes," said Uncle Jack bitterly. "It is plain enough: the wheel-bands have been cut by one of the men who get their living by us, and who take our pay."

"And you see the scoundrel who wrote that letter threatens worse treatment if we do not give up making the new silver steel."

"Yes," said Uncle Jack sternly as he turned to Uncle d.i.c.k; "what do you mean to do?"

"Begin a fresh batch to-day, and let the men know it is being done.

Here, let's show them that we can be as obstinate as they." Then aloud as we approached the men where they had grouped together, talking about the "cooten bands," as they termed it. "You go at once to the machinist's and get a couple of men sent on to repair such of these bands as they can, and put new ones where they are shortened too much by the mending."

Uncle Bob smiled at once.

"Look here," said Uncle d.i.c.k sharply, "some of you men can make shift by tying or binding your bands till they are properly done."

"Ay, mester," came in a growl, and shortly after the sound of steel being ground upon the sharply-spinning stones was heard. An hour later a couple of men were fitting bands to some of the wheels, and mending others by lacing them together.

I was standing watching them as they fitted a new band to Gentles'

wheel, while he stood with his bared arms folded, very eager to begin work again.

"Ain't it a cruel shaame?" he whispered. "Here's me, a poor chap paid by the piece, and this morning half gone as you may say. This job's a couple o' loaves out o' my house."

He wiped a tear out of the corner of each half-closed eye as he stared at me in a miserable helpless kind of way, and somehow he made me feel so annoyed with him that I felt as if I should like to slap his fat face and then kick him.

I went away very much exasperated and glad to get out of the reach of temptation, leaving my uncles busily superintending the fitting of the bands, and helping where they could do anything to start a man on again with his work. And all the time they seemed to make very light of the trouble, caring for nothing but getting the men started again.

I went down into the smithy, where Pannell was at work, and as I entered the place he looked for a moment from the glowing steel he was hammering into a shape, to which it yielded as if it had been so much tough wax, and then went on again as if I had not been there.

His kitten was a little more friendly, though, for it ran from the brickwork of the forge, leaped on to a bench behind me, and bounded from that on to my back, and crept to my shoulder, where it could rub its head against my ear.

"Well, Pannell," I said, "you've heard about the cowardly trick done in the shops?"

"Ay, I heered on't," he cried, as he battered away at the steel on his anvil.

"Who did it?"

"Did it!" he cried, nipping the cherry-red steel in a fresh place and thrusting it back in the fire. "Don't they know? Didn't they hear in the night?"

"No," I said; "they heard nothing, not a sound. The dog did not even bark, they say."

"Would he bite a man hard?"

"He'd almost eat a man if he attacked him."

"Ay, he looks it," said Pannell, patting the black coal-dust down over a glowing spot.

"Well, who do you think did it?" I said.

"Someone as come over the wall, I s'pose; but you'd better not talk about it."

"But I like to talk about it," I said. "Oh, I should like to find out who it was! It was someone here."

"Here!" he cried, whisking out the steel.

"Yes, the sneaking, blackguardly, cowardly hound!" I cried.

"Hush!" he whispered sharply; "some one may hear again."

I stared at the great swarthy fellow, for he looked sallow and seared, and it seemed, so strange to me that, while I only felt annoyance, he should be alarmed.

"Why, Pannell," I cried, "what's the matter?"

"Best keep a still tongue," he said in a whisper. "You never know who may hear you."

"I don't care who hears me. It was a coward and a scoundrel who cut our bands, and I should like to tell him so to his face."

"Howd thee tongue, I say," he cried, hammering away at his anvil, to drown my words in noise. "What did I tell thee?"

"That some one might hear me. Well, let him. Why, Pannell, you look as if you had done it yourself. It wasn't you, was it?"