It was too late in the day to begin work, but the new hands were shown through the establishment, with a view of familiarizing them to some extent with their new duties.

Most of them had had some experience in the same kind of work, but there was enough ignorance to insure much vexation and loss.
The night that followed was so quiet that Harvey believed the strikers had been awed by his threat to appeal to the law and by the determined front of the new men.
"It's a dear lesson," he said to himself, "but they need it, and it is high time it was taught to them." The next morning the whistle sent out its ear-splitting screech, whose echoes swung back and forth, like so many pendulums between the hills, but to the amazement of Harvey Bradley, not a person was seen coming toward the mills.

The whistle called them again, and Hugh O'Hara and Tom Hansell strolled leisurely up the street to the office, where Mr.
Bradley wonderingly awaited them.
"You'll have to blow that whistle a little louder," said O'Hara, with a tantalizing grin.
"What do you mean, sir ?" "Those chaps all left town last night; they must be about forty miles away; you see we explained matters to them; I don't think, if I was you, I would feel bad about it; they believe they can get along better at Carville than at Bardstown." For the first time since the trouble began, Harvey Bradley lost his temper.

To be defied and taunted in this manner was more than he could bear.

He vowed over again that not one of the strikers should do another day's work for him, even if he begged for it on his knees and he was starving.