"You fellows can do all the talking you want to at noon," he said. "There will be no builders around to-day, I guess."
"They'll do well to keep away!" muttered an angry Swede, threateningly.
"You go to unhairing skins, Olsen," Bryant commanded, putting his hand firmly but kindly on the broad shoulder of the man. "You can scold your wrath all out this noon. Go on."
"What is the matter?" Peter managed to whisper to Nat Jackson.
"The men are furious; they are threatening to strike," returned Nat in an undertone.
"To strike!" exclaimed Peter. His thoughts flew to his father. "What has happened?" he questioned insistently.
"Didn't you see last night's paper? Haven't you heard? Mr. Coddington is going to put up another tannery. He's going to build it on the ball field!"
"So the paper says. Of course the land is his. But it does seem pretty tough!"
To take away the field--the one out-of-door spot for luncheon and exercise! To deprive hundreds of stifled creatures of fresh air and sunlight! It was monstrous! Why hadn't his father mentioned the plan? Of course he did not realize what it would mean to the men or he never would have considered it. What would become of all those tired people who nightly left their bare little dwellings and sought a cool evening breeze in the field? Peter knew Nat and his mother always sat there until bedtime and many of the other workmen brought their wives and children. Once the boy had sat there himself. It was an orderly crowd that he had seen--children tumbling over each other on the grass; women seated on the benches and exchanging a bit of gossip; tired men stretched full-length on the turf resting in the quiet of the place.
Why, it was a crime to take the field away!
All the morning while he worked Peter's mind seethed with arguments against the building of the new factory. He longed to see his father and talk it out. Surely Mr. Coddington would listen if he realized the conditions. He was a kind man--not an inhuman brute. It seemed as if the noon whistle would never blow.
With Nat Jackson and a score of agitated workmen Peter went out into the shade opposite. Luncheon was forgotten, and ball, too. Instead a crowd gathered and on every hand there were mutterings and angry protests.