Picking up a bundle of the letterheads, he tore them across, and walking to the front of the room, shook his fist before Sam’s face.
“Scab leader!” he shouted, turning and facing the girls.
The soft-eyed Jewish girl sprang to her feet.
“He’s winning for us,” she said.
Harrigan walked toward her threateningly.
“Better lose than win a scab victory,” he bellowed.
“Who are you anyway? What grafter sent you here?” he demanded, turning to Sam.
He launched into a speech. “I have been watching this fellow, I know him. He has a scheme to break down the union and is being paid by the capitalists.”
Sam waited to hear no more. Getting up he pulled on his canvas jacket and started for the door. He saw that already he had involved himself in a dozen violations of the unionist code and the idea of trying to convince Harrigan of his disinterestedness did not occur to him.
“Do not mind me,” he said, “I am going.”