And
in front of us stand the masters. Now there's three things we can
do. We can either throw ourselves over the precipice; or we can lie
down and let the masters walk over us; or we can GET ON.
WILLIE. Yes. That's all right. But how are you going to get on?
JOB ARTHUR. Well--we've either got to throw the obstacle down the
cliff--or walk over it.
VOICES. Ay--ay--ay--yes--that's a fact.
WILLIE. I quite follow you, Job Arthur. You've either got to do for
the masters--or else just remove them, and put them somewhere else.
VOICES. Get rid on 'em--drop 'em down the shaft--sink 'em--ha' done
wi' 'em--drop 'em down the shaft--bust the beggars--what do you do
wi' vermin?
WILLIE. Supposing you begin. Supposing you take Gerald Barlow, and
hang him up from his lamp-post, with a piece of coal in his mouth for
a sacrament---
VOICES. Ay--serve him right--serve the beggar right! Shove it down's
throttle--ay!
WILLIE. Supposing you do it--supposing you've done it--and supposing
you aren't caught and punished--even supposing that--what are you
going to do next?--THAT'S the point.
JOB ARTHUR. We know what we're going to do. Once we can get our
hands free, we know what we're going to do.
WILLIE. Yes, so do I. You're either going to make SUCH a mess that
we shall never get out of it--which I don't think you will do, for
the English working man is the soul of obedience and order, and he'd
behave himself to-morrow as if he was at Sunday school, no matter
what he does to-day.
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