“Can she? I’ve fallen for her at the first glance.”
“What’s so pretty about her?”
“What? Why everything about her’s pretty. I like such a worker’s daughter.”
Handa knew full well that strikes—most strikes—act as matchmakers for girls and fellows. But this girl was already keen on a fellow called Yamaguchi. He knew that too, but he didn’t tell it to Machida; you never knew what trouble love might cause.
II
At night the launch, after taking the scabs home, came back again to the factory pier. There it lay dreamily at anchor.
At headquarters, under the dim electric light, Himuro, one of the committee, was planning an attack with the others. Instead of petitioning Chiun’s ghost to carry off the scabs it would be a quicker and surer method to sink the boat. Even Himuro, who prided himself on being moderate, seemed to realize that something had to be done.
It was decided to ask for volunteers.
The job didn’t involve much danger; therefore every hand went up.
It was a dark clear night with stars shining brightly. The voice of autumn whispered in the breeze from the oak-clad hills at the back of the village. Handa put on some old clothes and brought with him his chisel, hammer and screw driver.
“All ready?”
