“Have you got your cards as members of the union?” said Brown.
“No,” replied the party addressed, “we belong to no union.”
“Hum! I suppose you are calkilatin’ to jine the unions here?” inquired Brown in a persuasive accent.
“I am told,” replied the foreman, “that so far as the Hod-Carriers’ Union is concerned, we cannot join if we wish to; that they have resolved to admit no new members.”
Pap Brown slowly revolved his tobacco quid in his mouth, and rapidly revolved the situation in his wise old brain. “Hum!” said he at length, “I reckon that can be arranged for ye, so that ye can all jine.”
“Well,” replied the man from Milwaukee, “I may as well tell ye that we don’t calculate to jine anyhow. We don’t much believe in unions nohow—too many fellers a settin’ around drinkin’ beer, which the fellers that work have to pay for.”
“Mebbe you don’t know,” said Pap Brown, “that only union men will be allowed to work here.”
“Who will stop us?” said the stranger.
“There are a good many thousand of the brotherhood in this city,” said Delegate Brown, still persuasively, “and there are only ten of you.”
“Well, we ten are fixed to stay,” said the foreman, glancing significantly at his cartridge belt.