Crouching down, never taking his eyes from the coins, he got upon his hands and knees, crawling towards them craftily; then pounced suddenly on the main heap, while the isolated pieces scuttled back to their former positions, pretending they had never shifted their places. He laughed sneeringly at their futile attempts to deceive him, poured the heap into his pocket, and captured each separate coin that remained, by springing upon it. He searched the whole room like some animal, nosing into’ the corners, crouching lower and proceeding more cautiously when he spied a silver or gold piece that had rolled far, chuckling when he seized it and placed it with the others. At last he rose to his feet, slapping his pocket joyously, and making the money jingle. Once erect, the blood rushed to his head, making him dizzy. He staggered, and leaned against the wall, all his hilarity leaving him. The room seemed to swim around him, and he covered his eyes with his hands. “Ah’m gooin’ mad,” he whispered. “Ah moost ha’ summat ta eat--or drink.” Braunt staggered through the doorway to the passage and down the stair, out into the open air, which revived him and made him feel the nip of hunger again. Once on Light Street, he turned into the “Rose and Crown,” and asked for a mug of beer. The barman hesitated. The credit of the strikers had long since gone. “I’d like to see the colour of your money,” he said, gruffly. “Ah’ve no money. Ah’ll pay thee next week; ah’m goin’ to put a stop ta the strike to-day.” He brought down his open palm against his trousers pocket to emphasize his poverty, and was startled by the clink of coins. He thrust his hand down into his pocket, and pulled out some silver, gazing at it stupidly. “Ma word,” he gasped at last, “Ah thought Ah dreamt it!” The barman laughed, and reached for an empty mug, grasping the beer-pump handle. “That dream’s good enough for the ‘Crown,’” he said. “Better have some bread and cheese with it.” “Yes. Be quick, man.” Standing there, Braunt ate and drank ravenously. “I can get you a plate of cold meat,” said the barman, seeing how hungry the man was. The other nodded, and the plate, with knife and fork, was placed before him. “So the strike’s off, is it?” said the man, leaning his arms on the bar. “It’ll be off when Ah get there.” “Well, it’s not a minute too soon. Our trade’s suffered.” “More than your trade has suffered, worse luck. Dom little you’ll do for a man, unless the money’s in ta pouch.” “Oh, if it comes to that, neither will other people. We’re not giving out-door relief, any more than our neighbours.”