up.

Over this saloon was a series of small rooms which were called "wine
rooms," though nobody opened wine there. Beer was ten cents a glass up
stairs, and whisky twenty. Women were not infrequently seen climbing
the stairs to these rooms. But, as already stated, everybody behaved.
Schmuck, who managed the saloon, was a giant of a man, a Turnvereiner,
who could hold his own with any man in town. It will be understood
that the orderliness was therefore due to a respect for Schmuck's
strength, and not to any inclination to be orderly.

On this night, then, at nine o'clock, a man entered and approached the
bar. He was sharp-eyed, lean-faced, with a heavy blue beard closely
shaven, saving the mustache, which was black and hung over the man's
lips. He wore good clothes. There was a large diamond on one of his
fingers and another in the bosom of his shirt, in which a white tie
was tucked carefully. They were yellow diamonds. But those among whom
this man moved did not know the difference between yellow stones and
white. Morrissy was accounted very well-to-do.

"Hello, Schmuck!" he hailed. "Got the room up stairs in order?"

"Yes." Schmuck wiped the bar. "Der poss iss coming to-night, I see.
Huh?"

"Yes. He ought to be along now," replied Morrissy, glancing at his
watch, which was as conspicuous as his yellow diamonds.

"How you getting along mit der poys?"

"Oh, we're coming along fine, all right."

"Going to call 'em out uf der mills? Huh?"

"Perhaps. When the boss comes, tell him I'm up stairs."

Morrissy lighted a cigar, took the evening papers from the end of the
bar, and disappeared. Schmuck could hear him moving the chairs about.
Ten minutes later McQuade appeared. Schmuck nodded toward the stairs,
and without a word McQuade went up.

"Good evening, Morrissy. I missed a car, or I'd have been here
earlier."

"That's all right, Mr. McQuade; glad to wait for you." Morrissy threw
aside his papers and drew his chair to the table.

McQuade closed the door and sat down.

"You got my letter?" he began, wiping his forehead.

Morrissy nodded.

"Well?"

"Well, the boys will go out Monday morning. A committee will wait on
Bennington in the morning. He won't back down and discharge the
English inventor, so it's a sure thing they'll walk out, every
mother's son of them."

"On the morning they go out, I'll send you my check for five hundred."

"For the union?"

"I'll send it to you, and you can use it as y