"No, I hardly think he will," smiled Rush, as he started up the stairs, followed by his companion, the latter turning every few moments to see if the guard were following them. The fellow had prudently remained at the foot of the stairs. Perhaps he had seen something of the hitting powers of the Iron Boys.
Steve Rush stepped into the meeting room and came to a halt about even with the chairman's platform.
Every eye in the room was instantly focused on the lad. He did not present a prepossessing appearance. His clothes were torn and covered with dirt, his face was streaked with blood where it had been cut when he crashed through the window in his flight from the hall, while his hands were in a similar condition.
Cavard discovered him about this time.
"Young man, haven't you caused enough trouble for one night, without coming back looking for more?" demanded the chairman.
"I have not returned to look for trouble. I have come for one thing, to warn you."
"Against trouble. I presume you have voted for a strike?"
"The members of the union have done so."
"Then let me tell you that that action, which you brought about by underhand scheming, marks the beginning of your downfall, Mr. Cavard. I believe you to be a scheming scoundrel, and I shall make it my business to expose you to the men who are following you so blindly now. Look out, Mr. Walking Delegate and President. It's a pretty long level that doesn't bring up against a hard rock heading sooner or later. I wish my name taken from the roll of the union. I do not wish to belong to any organization that you are connected with. That is all I have to say to you."