“Now I’ve got a report to make, and then I’m done,” he said to Stanley. “I’ll come over to the freight office just as soon as I can.”
“All right, sir,” said Stanley, and hurried away to provide fresh quarters for the strike-breakers. He found them fraternizing with the brotherhood men, and Simpson himself proposed a solution of the problem of lodging them.
“Why not bring them up to the lodge room?” he said. “It’s plenty big enough, and each man can bring his cot with him. We’ll see that breakfast is ready for them in the morning and after that, I guess they can get board around town somewhere. I hope you’ll approve,” he added to Stanley. “We want to show we’re in earnest about this thing and that we bear no grudge against anyone.”
“All right,” agreed Stanley; “I don’t see no objections; though of course, I see your little game,” he added, in an undertone. “These fellers’ll be union men inside of a week.”
Simpson made no reply, but smiled a diplomatic smile; and Stanley’s prediction came true; for all of the strangers who secured permanent positions, joined the brotherhood in a very short time. It may be added, in passing, however, that not above eight or ten remained at Wadsworth. Most of them had the wanderlust in their blood; they could be contented in one place only for a very short time, and then must be moving on; while the rest were victims of an even worse disease, which converted them from men into brutes, and rendered them unfit to hold any position.
Allan, hurrying across the yards in the direction of his office, was conscious of quick steps behind him, and turned to find that Jack Welsh had joined Reddy Magraw.
“So here you are!” cried Jack. “Well, I certainly am glad to see you. And you’re not hurted?”
“Hurt?” repeated Allan. “Why, no, of course not; why should I be?”
“And you’re about ready to go home? The women are jest naterally worrited to death about you.”