"Eagles to snowbirds 'tis not!" put in Bennie, aside.
Morrison gave no heed to the interruption.
"Every man has the right to spend his own money in his own way."
"The poor devils get the money and the Blue Goose furnishes the way," Bennie again interpolated.
Morrison was getting uneasy. He was conscious that he was not making headway.
"You can't do but one thing at a time in good shape."
"You're a damned liar! At the Blue Goose you're doing everyone all the time."
Morrison rose impatiently. The nickel bullets were missing their billet. He began tentatively to unfold the peacock's tail.
"You see," he said, "it's like this. In union is strength. What makes the rich richer? Because they hang together like swarming bees. You pick the honey of one and you get the stings of all. Learn from the rich to use the rich man's weapons. Let us poor workingmen band together like brothers in a common cause. Meet union with union, strength with strength. Then, and only then, can we get our own."
"It took more than one cat to make strings for that fiddle," Bennie remarked, thoughtfully. "Just what might that mean?"