“I wasn’t hell-bent on getting away from it, Bricky. Didn’t I tell you a month ago, in this very room, that there’d got to be a strike?”
“Sure! But we’ve got what we wanted without it.”
“Not yet we haven’t.”
“What more do we want?”
“We want to smash Dick Malleson.”
Bricky pondered for a moment.
“Ye didn’t fall far short o’ smashin’ him,” he said finally. “But how in heaven’s name will ye git a strike now?”
Lamar took an equal length of time before replying.
“Bricky,” he said at last, “you’ve got to be discharged.”
“Me? Discharged? What for?”