“Well, boys,” he announced, “I’ve seen Schofield.”
“What did he say?” shouted one of the men, impatient of Nixon’s deliberate manner.
“Now, look here,” yelled Nixon, searching the offender out with threatening forefinger, “I won’t be interrupted—I won’t! If another man does that, I leave—an’ I’ll let y’ wait a week fer a letter from headquarters. You don’t seem t’ realize what it means fer a man like me t’ come down here t’ settle your rows.”
“That’s what you’re paid fer,” murmured one of the men, in a far corner, but he lowered his voice carefully.
“Schofield an’ I went over the situation from a to izzard,” Nixon continued, when quiet was restored, satisfied that there would be no further interruptions. “He gave me the case from the road’s side, and I gave him the case from our side, and I can’t deny that he had the best of me.”
There was a little murmur at this, but Nixon stilled it instantly with raised finger.
“The fact of the matter is,” he went on, raising his voice suddenly and glowering at Bassett, who occupied a place in the front line, “this man Bassett was drunk the other night, and every mother’s son of you knows it.”
“It’s a lie!” yelled Bassett, white as death, and again there was a murmur, but again Nixon managed to still it.
“I’ll answer you,” he said, pointing to Bassett, “after this meetin’ adjourns. I ain’t here to argue. I’m here to state facts. This man was drunk an’ insulted his superior officer. The road had a right to fire him on two counts—fer bein’ drunk an’ fer insubordination.”
He paused an instant and glowered around. There had been a little movement at the door a few minutes before, and Mr. Schofield had stepped quietly inside, followed by the two men whom Nixon had seen standing in the hall outside the superintendent’s office. But so intent was everyone on what Nixon was saying that no one observed them, and they stood watching the proceedings without question or interference.