a dull thud, the back of his
head striking the stones.

There was a loud yell at this, and a chorus rose:

"In wi' 'em. Throost 'em i' th' dam," shouted a voice, and half a dozen
men advanced menacingly; but Uncle Bob stood firm, and just then Fannell
the smith strode before them.

"Howd hard theer," he cried in his shrill voice. "Six to one, and him
one o' the mesters."

Just then Uncles Jack and Dick strode in through the gates, saw the
situation at a glance, and ran to strengthen our side.

"What's this?" roared Uncle Dick furiously, as Uncle Jack clenched his
fists and looked round, as it seemed to me, for some one to knock down.
"In to your work, every man of you."

"Bands is gone," said a sneering voice.

"Then get off our premises, you dogs!" he roared. "Out of that gate, I
say, every man who is against us."

"Oh, we're not agen you, mester," said Gentles smoothly. "I'm ready for
wuck, on'y the bands is gone. Yow mean wuck, eh, mates?"

"Then go and wait till we have seen what is to be done. Do you hear?--
go."

He advanced on the men so fiercely that they backed from him, leaving
Pannell only, and he stooped to help up the big grinder, who rose to his
feet shaking his head like a dog does to get the water out of his ears,
for there must have been a loud singing noise there.

"Off with you!" said Uncle Dick turning upon these two.

"Aw reight, mester," said Pannell. "I were on'y helping the mate.
Mester Robert there did gie him a blob."

Pannell was laughing good-humouredly, and just then Uncle Bob turned
upon him.

"Thank you, Pannell," he said quickly. "I'm glad we have one true man
in the place."

"Oh, it's aw reight, mester," said the smith. "Here, coom along,
thou'st had anew to last thee these two months."

As he spoke he half dragged the big grinder away to the workshop, and
Uncle Bob rapidly explained the state of affairs.

"It's enough to make us give up," cried Uncle Dick angrily. "We pay
well; we're kind to our men; we never overwork them; and yet they serve
us these blackguard tricks. Well, if they want to be out of work they
shall be, for I'll agree to no more bands being bought till the
scoundrels come to their senses."

"But we will not be beaten," cried Uncle Jack, who looked disappointed
at there being no more fighting.

"No," said Uncle Bob, wiping his bleeding knuckles. "I feel as if I had
tasted blood, as they say, and I'm ready to fight now to the end."