The discontent with the situation had found expression on the floor of the lodge the night before, when Jim Adams had suggested that a committee be appointed to wait upon the officials of the road, and see whether an agreement to end the strike could not be reached. It was this suggestion which had led to Bassett’s assault and to the subsequent warning and reprimand which Simpson had given him.
In consequence of all this, everyone felt that affairs were reaching a crisis, and the lodge room was even more crowded than usual, this evening, as the hour for the meeting approached. The men gathered in little groups and discussed in low tones the scene of the evening before. It was evident that a new spirit had come over the men, and more than one stated that it was his intention to approve the suggestion made by Adams the night before, and that he would not allow Rafe Bassett to roar him down. But none of them cared to provoke unnecessarily Bassett’s open enmity, for he was universally recognized as a dangerous man, and when, at last, he swaggered into the room, plainly under the influence of liquor, an uneasy silence fell upon the crowd.
The meeting was called to order, and Simpson arose to make a few announcements. He waited until Bassett, evidently spoiling for a fight, swaggered noisily to a chair near the stage.
“There is no change in the situation,” he began. “The strike is progressing quietly—”
“Too blame quietly,” Bassett broke in. “You’d think we was a lot o’ Sunday school kids by the way we set around with our hands folded, actin’ like sugar wouldn’t melt in our—”
“Order! Order!” called the chairman, rapping with his gavel, and Bassett subsided, growling, into his chair.
“As I was saying,” Simpson proceeded calmly, “the strike is progressing quietly. One good piece of news I have—the fellows who tried to set fire to the stock-yards have been arrested and turned out to be a couple of saloon bums, who never worked on a railroad, or anywhere else, and of course never belonged to the brotherhood. I’m mighty glad that this effectually clears the brotherhood of any suspicion of being implicated in the affair.”
“How do you know they’re the ones?” Bassett demanded.
“I understand they have confessed.”
“Been given the third degree, I guess. Who’s defendin’ ’em?”