rs have gone out;
they've all gone out, and now it's only fair--that--you should go out.
Stick together and we'll win; in other words, 'united we stand, divided
we fall.' Am I right, Schwarz?"

Mr. Schwarz did not commit himself as to the merits of the case; he was
not there for that purpose. He was there to carry out the wishes of
the association, so he merely contented himself with saying that the
musicians would undoubtedly have to go out under the term of the
affiliation.

"Music and bricks has got to stand by each other," said Mr. Ryan,
unconsciously quoting Von Barwig. "They've got to, or there'll be no
music; and no bricks."

Music and bricks, then, was no longer a joke. It was a reality, a
dreadful impossibility that had become true; and Von Barwig's heart
sank as he looked at his friends, and saw by their faces that they,
too, realised what it meant. They were in the midst of a sympathetic
strike; the question of the right or wrong of it did not appear. It
was immaterial; right or wrong, they must go out because others went;
those were the orders from headquarters.

"Of course, Von Barwig, you'll stand for whatever the Amalgamated
stands for?" said Schwarz.

"You'll resign until the matter is settled, I presume?" queried Mr.
Ryan. Von Barwig shook his head. A faint "no" issued from his throat,
which had literally dried up from fear; the fear of losing the
happiness he had had just now, the fear of going back to that dreaded
night-drudgery again. All their hopes were shattered, their
anticipations were not to be realised.

"Of course--I--I am of the Union. I stand by the Union--of course.
I--but it's--it's hard!" Then with an effort, "It will not last long,
eh?"

"No," said Mr. Ryan, "it won't last a month! We'll put them out of
business if it does. They'll weaken, Mr. Barwig, you'll see! They'll
weaken all right." The ashen appearance of Von Barwig's face, the
abject despair he saw depicted there aroused the man's sympathy. "It
won't be long, Mr. Barwig," he repeated in a softened voice. "I know
it's hard, but what are we to do? If we don't stand together, we'll be
swamped."

"That's right," said Schwarz.

"It ain't sympathy; it's self-defence, Barwig," declared Mr. Ryan,
uttering what he thought was a great truth.

"Yes, yes," muttered Von Barwig. Hope had gone completely from him now.

"Self-defence," he repeated, and then he laughed bitterly. "The art of
music progresses.