Tears began to show in his
eyes. "I take the money of these miners and I give them nothing. The
spectacles I sell to their wives for five dollars cost me but fifteen
cents. I ride over these brutes as Napoleon rode over Europe. There
would be order and purpose in me were I not a fool. I am like Napoleon
in that I have utter contempt for men."
* * * * *
Again and again the words of the drunkard came back into the mind of
the McGregor boy influencing his thoughts. Grasping nothing of the
philosophy back of the man's words his imagination was yet touched by
the drunkard's tale of the great Frenchman, babbled into his ears, and
it in some way seemed to give point to his hatred of the disorganised
ineffectiveness of the life about him.
* * * * *
After Nance McGregor opened the bakery another strike came to disturb
the prosperity of the business. Again the miners walked idly through
the streets. Into the bakery they came to get bread and told Nance to
write the debt down against them. Beaut McGregor was disturbed. He saw
his father's money being spent for flour which when baked into loaves
went out of the shop under the arms of the miners who shuffled as they
walked. One night a man whose name appeared on their books followed by
a long record of charged loaves came reeling past the bakery.
Pages:
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47