The union will make it hot for them." "I will take all kinds of care of every man who gives me honest work, you may be sure." When I returned to town I sent this "ad." to two papers: "Wanted: Ten good carpenters to go to the country." The Sunday papers gave a lurid account of the sentiment of the Carpenters' Union and its sympathetic attitude toward the striking hoisters.

They ran along upon a rafter, peering down through the damp and the steam; and as old Durham's architects had not built the killing room for the convenience of the hoisters, at every few feet they would have to stoop under a beam, say four feet above the one they ran on; which got them into the habit of stooping, so that in a few years they would be walking like chimpanzees.

His shoes were almost licked by the red tongues. "Hurry, you hoisters!" bellowed a man in the street. His voice did not carry, but Tom Reade and his wearied helpers were doing all that could be done by strong, willing hands. Another and longer tongue of flame leaped out through the shattered window, and again Dave's swinging feet were all but bathed in fire.

"Man overboard!" cried Daggoo, who amid the general consternation first came to his senses. "Swing the bucket this way!" and putting one foot into it, so as the better to secure his slippery hand-hold on the whip itself, the hoisters ran him high up to the top of the head, almost before Tashtego could have reached its interior bottom. Meantime, there was a terrible tumult.

"I have ten carpenters, and they are a busy lot. If I can only hold them on to the job, things will go well." "What's the matter? Can't you hold them?" "I hope so, but there is a hoisters' strike on in the city, and the carpenters threaten to go out in sympathy. I hope it won't reach us, but I'm afraid it will." "What will you do if the men go out?" "Do the best I can.

"Man overboard!" cried Daggoo, who amid the general consternation first came to his senses. "Swing the bucket this way!" and putting one foot into it, so as the better to secure his slippery hand-hold on the whip itself the hoisters ran him high up to the top of the head, almost before Tashtego could have reached its interior bottom. Meantime, there was a terrible tumult.

"Anybody seen anything of David Adams?" he asked of the different gangs of pushers, hoisters, or thrusters he met with their trucks of coal as they came out of the passages and holes on all sides, some so low that they had to stoop down till their heads were no higher than the trucks. "No; what, is he not found yet?" was the answer he got generally.

There were the "hoisters," as they were called, whose task it was to press the lever which lifted the dead cattle off the floor.