On Saturday the men took their well-earned pay, one by one, and went out of the gates quietly, if sullenly. During the days that had intervened between the meeting and the strike, neither side had made advances to the other. If Sartwell had prepared for the struggle, these preparations had been accomplished so secretly that Gibbons failed to learn of them. The secretary of the Union issued a manifesto to the press, setting forth the position of the men in temperate phrase that had the effect of bringing public sympathy largely to the side of the workers. It was an admirable document, and most of the papers published it, some of them editorially regretting the fact that in this enlightened country and this industrial age, some hundreds of men, the bone and sinew of the land, willing to work, were forced to go into the streets in protest against a tyranny that refused even to discuss their alleged wrongs. The newspapers pointed out that whether their grievances were just or not was beside the question; as the point was that the manager had refused to see a deputation, and this high-handed conduct the papers expressed themselves as forced to deplore. Both members of the firm thought this manifesto should be answered. The manager did not agree with them, so it was not answered. Pickets were placed before the gates, and a few extra policemen appeared, as if by accident, in the neighbourhood; but there was nothing for either policemen or pickets to do. On Monday, some of the men lounging around the place looked up at the tall chimneys, and saw them, for the first time during their remembrance, smokeless. They had never noticed the smoke before, but now its absence created an unexpected void in the murky outlook. It was as if the finger of death had touched those gaunt lofty stacks, and the unusual silence of the place the men had always known to be so busy seemed to give the situation a lonely feeling of solemnity they had not looked, for. On Tuesday some dray-loads of new machinery arrived at the works, and these the pickets attempted to stop, but without success. Gibbons was consulted, but he took a sensible and liberal view of the matter. “Let them put in all the new machinery they wish. That will mean employment for more men when we go back. We will not interfere with Sartwell until he tries to fill the works with other employees.” For the remainder of the week the shops echoed with the clang of iron on iron, but no smoke came out of the tall chimneys. “Call this a fight?” said one of the men, over his mug of beer. “I call it a bean-feast.” On Saturday, strike pay was given out at headquarters, each man getting his usual wage, for the Union was rich. It was indeed a bean-feast--all pay and no work.