Jago. [A dark, sallow, Spanish-looking man with a short, thin beard.] Mister, want to ask you!  Can they get blacklegs?

Bulgin. [Menacing.] Let ’em try.

     [There are savage murmurs from the crowd.]

Brown. [A round-faced man.] Where could they get ’em then?

Evans. [A small, restless, harassed man, with a fighting face.] There’s always blacklegs; it’s the nature of ’em.  There’s always men that’ll save their own skins.

     [Another savage murmur.  There is a movement, and old Thomas,
     joining the crowd, takes his stand in front.]

Harness. [Holding up his hand.] They can’t get them.  But that won’t help you.  Now men, be reasonable.  Your demands would have brought on us the burden of a dozen strikes at a time when we were not prepared for them.  The Unions live by justice, not to one, but all.  Any fair man will tell you—­you were ill-advised!  I don’t say you go too far for that which you’re entitled to, but you’re going too far for the moment; you’ve dug a pit for yourselves.  Are you to stay there, or are you to climb out?  Come!

Lewis. [A clean-cut Welshman with a dark moustache.] You’ve hit it, Mister!  Which is it to be?

     [Another movement in the crowd, and Rous, coming quickly, takes
     his stand next Thomas.]

Harness.  Cut your demands to the right pattern, and we ’ll see you through; refuse, and don’t expect me to waste my time coming down here again.  I ’m not the sort that speaks at random, as you ought to know by this time.  If you’re the sound men I take you for—­no matter who advises you against it—­[he fixes his eyes on Roberts] you ’ll make up your minds to come in, and trust to us to get your terms.  Which is it to be?  Hands together, and victory—­or—­the starvation you’ve got now?

     [A prolonged murmur from the crowd.]

Jago. [Sullenly.] Talk about what you know.

Harness. [Lifting his voice above the murmur.] Know? [With cold passion.] All that you’ve been through, my friend, I ’ve been through—­I was through it when I was no bigger than [pointing to a youth] that shaver there; the Unions then were n’t what they are now.  What’s made them strong?  It’s hands together that ’s made them strong.  I ’ve been through it all, I tell you, the brand’s on my soul yet.  I know what you ’ve suffered—­there’s nothing you can tell me that I don’t know; but the whole is greater than the part, and you are only the part.  Stand by us, and we will stand by you.

     [Quartering them with his eyes, he waits.  The murmuring swells;
     the men form little groups.  Green, Bulgin, and Lewis talk
     together.]

Lewis.  Speaks very sensible, the Union chap.

Green. [Quietly.] Ah! if I ’d a been listened to, you’d ’ave ’eard sense these two months past.