Driscoll sprang to his feet, his chair tumbling on its back, and his fist came down upon the table. "I thought you were driving at that! By God, I'm getting sick of this whole dirty underhand way of doing business. I'd get out if I had a half-way decent offer. The union is in the wrong. Of course it is! But I want to fight 'em on the square—in the open. I don't want to win by bribing a traitor!"
"It's a case where it would be wrong not to bribe—if you want to use so harsh a word," said Baxter, his face tinged the least bit with red. "It is either to satisfy Mr. Foley or to lose a summer's work and have the men and their families suffer from the loss of a summer's wages. It's a choice between evils. I'll leave to the gentlemen here, which is the greater."
"Oh, give your conscience a snooze, Driscoll!" growled Murphy.
"I think Baxter's reasoning is good," said Bobbs. Isaacs corroborated him with a nod.
"It's smooth reasoning, but it's rotten!—as rotten as hell!" He glared about on the four men. "Are you all in for Baxter's plan?"
"We haven't heard it all yet," said Bobbs.
"You've heard enough to guess the rest," snorted Driscoll.
"I think it's worth tryin'," said Murphy.
"Why, yes," said Bobbs.
"We can do no less than that," said Isaacs.