“You’d have Union backing. I’ll see that the Union endorses you. I can do it. You know that. I’ll stop every wheel in every mill in this city till you fellows get what you demand.”
“You know what you’re talkin’ about, Steve? You know what a hell of a lot o’ red tape they is about a strike these labor union days? Meetin’s an’ votes, an’ grievance committees, an’ strike committees, an’ all the head buckies in the unions buttin’ in? How do you know the Central would stand by us?”
“I tell you everything in labor in this district will stand by you. I know what I’m saying. What the devil makes you so chicken-hearted and suspicious?”
The man with the shock of red hair laid his arms on the table and leaned across toward Lamar.
“Look here, Steve,” he said, “let’s be plain about this thing. No beatin’ around the bush. Do you want a strike at the Malleson?”
“I want a strike at the Malleson.”
“What for?”
“I’ll tell you later. I’ve got a damned good reason.”
The man with the red hair leaned still farther across the table, and spoke in a whisper.
“What is there in it,” he asked, “for me?”