Men expectorated savagely upon
the ground, staring hard at the stones at their feet, thinking and
wondering how they might serve their comrades.
"It's about time we had a union," said one.
"Ay," replied another, "so that some bigmouthed idiot can pocket the
money an' get a guid saft job oot o' it."
"We've had plenty of unions," put in another. "The last yin we started
here--ye mind Bob Ritchie gaed aff to America wi' a' the money. It was a
fine go for him!"
"Oh, ay, but let us see what can be done wi' this case," said Jamie
Lauder. "Hoo' wad it do if we appointed a deputation to gang an' lay the
hale thing afore Mr. Rundell?"
Jamie was always listened to with the respect due to his proved good
sense, for everyone knew that he was a man who would not intentionally
hurt a fellow creature by word or deed.
"I believe it wad be a guid plan," agreed Tam Tate. "He maybe disna ken
the hauf that gangs on. What do ye a' think o' it, men?"
This was before the days of limited companies and coal syndicates, and
the proprietor of the pits in Lowwood, Mr. Rundell, lived about two
miles out of the village. He was not a bad man, as men go; he was fiery
and quick-tempered, but had a not ungenerous nature withal, and was
usually susceptible to a reasoned statement.
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