m. 'E's a traitor, a blank and double-blank traitor.
'E sold us (h)up, 'e 'as. Don't listen to 'im."

Like a maniac he spat out the words from his foam-flecked lips, waving
his arms madly about his head. Relief came from an unexpected source.
Sam Wigglesworth, annoyed at Simmons's persistence and observing that
McNish, to whom as a labour leader he felt himself bound, regarded the
orating and gesticulating Simmons with disfavour, reached down and,
pulling a sizable club from beneath the bottom of a fence, took careful
aim and, with the accuracy of the baseball pitcher that he was, hurled
it at the swaying figure upon the barrel. The club caught Simmons fair
in the mouth, who, being, none too firmly set upon his pedestal, itself
affording a wobbling foothold, landed spatting and swearing in the arms
of his friends below. With the mercurial temper characteristic of a
crowd, they burst into a yell of laughter.

"Go to it now, McNish!" said Maitland.

Echoing the laughter, McNish once more held up his hand. "Earth to
earth, ashes to ashes," he said in his deepest and most solemn tone. The
phenomenal absurdity of a joke from the solemn Scotchman again tickled
the uncertain temperament of the crowd into boisterous laughter.

"Men, listen tae me!" cried McNish. "Ye mad a bad mistake the nicht.
In fact, ye're a lot of fules. And those who led ye are worse, for they
have lost us the strike, if that is any satisfaction tae ye. And now
ye want to do another fule thing. Ye're mad just because ye didn't know
enough to keep out of the wet."

But at this point, a man fighting his way from the rear of the crowd,
once more raised the cry "Scabs!"

"Keep that fool quiet," said McNish sharply.

"Keep quiet yourself, McNish," replied the man, still pushing his way
toward the front.

"Heaven help us now," said Maitland. "It's Tony, and drunk at that!"

It was indeed Tony, without hat, coat or vest.

"McNish, we want those scabs," said Tony, in drunken gravity.

"There are nae scabs here. Haud ye're drunken tongue," said McNish
savagely.

"McNish," persisted Tony in a grave and perfectly courteous tone,
"you're a liar. The scabs are in that office." A roar again swept the
crowd.

"Men, listen to me," pleaded McNish. "A'll tell ye about the scabs. They
are in the office yonder. But I have Captain Maitland's word o' honour
that they will be shipped out of town by the first train."

A savage yell answered him.

"McNish, we'll