“Oh, anything. Neglect of duty. Impertinence. Sabotage. Can’t you see that you’re what the diplomats call non persona grata at capitalistic headquarters? You’ve put up a successful fight. You’re a union leader. You’re a warrior in the ranks of labor. Bricky, you’re an agitator, you’re a menace; you’ve got to go. Confound you, man! Can’t you see what I’m driving at?”
Bricky was not so dull but that he saw. Yet he did not seem to be very favorably impressed with Lamar’s plan. He thought about it for a moment before answering.
“So I’m to be made the goat, am I?” he said, at last.
“You’re to be made the goat. That’s right. But you’ll feed high. Remember what I say: you’ll feed high.”
Again Bricky pondered. Then he repeated Lamar’s words:
“‘Neglect of duty. Impertinence. Sabotage.’ What the hell’s sabotage, Steve?”
“Oh, creating a little incidental damage now and then. Monkeying with the machinery. Putting it out of commission. I don’t mean stupidly smashing it, you know. Just getting it out of order occasionally, in a way that it’ll take half a day to fix it up. You can do it all right. Keep it up. Spoil a piece of work once in a while. Be careless. Be damned careless. Of course they’ll bring you up for it. They’ll send you to the office. There’s where you can get in a nice line of impertinence. You’ll get your walking papers. The boys won’t stand for it. They won’t see you put upon. Not one of them. They’ll strike in less than twelve hours. I know what I’m talking about.”
Still Bricky pondered. It was apparent that he was not enthusiastic over the proposition. He did not refuse it, but he wanted to think it over. It must have been a full minute before he looked up and inquired:
“And where do you say I get off?”