EARL had learned how to use and control the great draft-horse of the river. At a touch of his finger a belt moved, and up went the push of the falling waters into a thousand feet of shafting. Other levers could divide this stream of power into some forty currents guided by leathern belts to the labor-saving devices of my able friend. These latter had doubled the capacity of the shop without increasing its working force, and soon the machines which made “Sal and Sal's Sisters” began to be regarded as the rivals—and even as the enemies—of labor.
The candidacy of Mr. McCarthy had been announced; the caucuses were coming on; no sign of opposition had developed.
One morning the gentleman came in with important news.
“They will strike to-morrow,” he said. “I have learned the whole plot. Gaffney, that little red-headed Irishman who is the boss of the wrapping-room, is at the bottom of it. They had a secret session last night and made him spokesman. He will come here to-morrow morning and ask me to put out the machines. If I refuse, they will quit and fight me.”
He sat, thoughtfully, tapping with his pencil. In half a moment he said:
“That man Gaffney has quite a head on him. I think I'll promote the fellow.”
“Promote him!” I exclaimed.
“Yes; I never discharge anybody. I promote people if it becomes necessary to get rid of them.”
He tapped his call-bell, and said to the errand boy, “Ask Mr. Gaffney to come here.”
Gaffney arrived presently, a bit embarrassed. “Sit down a moment,” said Mr. McCarthy. “I said when you came here that I would keep an eye on you, and I've done it. I'm satisfied that you're too talented for your position. I'm going to send you to the shop in Troy, where our machines are made, and keep you there until you've learned all about them. Then I'll try you as superintendent, at a larger salary, and a 5-per-cent, interest in the profits. If you 'tend to business you'll make a fortune.”