"Open up here!" they shouted. Beaut
came out of the rooms above the bakery and stood in the empty shop.
His mother sat in a chair in her room and trembled. He went to the
door and unlocking it stepped out. The miners stood in groups on the
wooden sidewalk and in the mud of the road. Among them stood the old
crone who had walked beside the horses and shouted at the soldiers. A
miner with a black beard came and stood before the boy. Waving his
hand at the crowd he said, "We have come to open the bakery. Some of
us have no ovens in our stoves. You give us the key and we will open
the place. We will break in the door if you don't want to do that. The
company can't blame you if we do it by force. You can keep account of
what we take. Then when the strike is settled we will pay you."
A flame shot into the eyes of the boy. He walked down the steps and
stood among the miners. Thrusting his hands into his pockets he peered
into their faces. When he spoke his voice resounded through the
street, "You jeered at my father, Cracked McGregor, when he went into
the mine for you. You laughed at him because he saved his money and
did not spend it buying you drinks. Now you come here to get bread his
money bought and you do not pay. Then you get drunk and go reeling
past this very door.
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