Luna helped the fallen Morrison to his feet. The first thing Morrison noticed was Pierre walking away toward the private office. Luna again approached Morrison with a brimming glass of brandy.
"Take this down. Lord! That was a nerve-peeler! I don't blame you for going under."
Morrison swallowed the liquor at a gulp. The pallor died away and a hot flush mounted his face.
"I've got him to settle with, too. I'll make him squeal before I'm done."
The crowd had surged to the door to meet a swarm of howling men who had just come down from the mine. Three or four remained with Luna around Morrison. His voice was hoarse and broken.
"He's thrown us over. You see that? It's up to us to play it alone. He's put it up to your face that he's with you, but he's playing against you. He can't stop us now. It's gone too far. The first tug is coming, to-morrow. We'll win out, hands down. The Rainbow first, then Pierre." He ended with a string of profanity.
"There's fifty men with rifles in the cañon. Hartwell's gang will never get through. The boys are going to shoot at sight."
"Where's Firmstone?" Morrison's face writhed.
"Up to the mine. He's getting in his work." Luna looked over his shoulder at the crowd of miners.
"That's so. The foreman's fired. So am I. He is going to die boss." The man grinned, as he held out a time check.
"He'll die, anyway." Morrison's jaws set. "You're sure he's at the mine?"
"Dead sure. He's got his work cut out to-night. Lots of scabs held out. He's put the night boss in foreman." The man grinned again.
"And miss all the fun down here?" the man interrupted.
Morrison's hand rested more heavily on the shoulder.
"Don't get flip. Have some fun of your own up there. The supe will hear the racket down here early. He'll start down with his scabs to help out. Two men can start a racket there that will keep him guessing. If he's started it will fetch him back. If he hasn't he won't start at all."
"What's the matter with letting off a box or two of powder under the tram?"
"That's me. Come on, Joe. Let's have a drink first."
These two were the penitents whom Firmstone had taken back.
The greater number of the men were crowded around the gilded bar, drinking boisterously to the success of the union and death to scabs and companies. A few, more sober-minded, but none the less resolute, gathered around Morrison. They were the leaders upon whom he depended for the carrying out of his orders, or for acting independently of them on their own initiative, as occasion might demand. With logic fiendish in its cunning, he pointed out to them their right to organise, laid emphasis on their pacific intentions only to defend their rights, and having enlarged upon this, he brought into full play Hartwell's fatal error.