"Work? Not on your life! Socialism, Communism--Revolution!"

Bat spat out a stream of tobacco juice. He was startled.

"But I ain't heard tell of any sort of unrest gettin' busy. We're payin'
big money. It's bigger than the market. They got--"

"Best talk to Sternford when you get back up there to your office. He's
got the boys sized right up to the last hair of their stupid heads. But
I'll hand you something I've reckoned to hand you a while back, only I
wanted to be sure. There's nothing of this truck about the 'hands' of
the old mill. It's the new hands you've been collecting from the
forests. We've grown by two thousand hands in the past year or so. And
they're so darn mixed I wouldn't fancy trying to sort 'em. They come
from all parts. The world's been talking revolution since ever these
buzzy-headed Muscovites reckoned to start in grabbing the world's goods
for themselves. Well, it's a hell of a long piece here to Labrador, but
it's found its way, and the mutton-brained fools who're supposed to play
around that shanty you handed 'em are recreating themselves talking
about it in there. Here, come right over to that window. It's open."

Perhaps Skert was enjoying himself. Certainly his mournful eyes were
less mournful as he led his chief over to the open window. Bat had had
his innings with him. He was planning the game and hitting hard in his
turn.

"The enemy of the world, of more particularly the worker is
the--CAPITALIST!"

The words were hurled from the platform of the recreation room at the
heads of the listening throng below and reached the open window just as
Lawton and his chief came up to it. There was applause following this
profound announcement, and Skert turned on his companion.

"Well?" he demanded, in a tone of biting triumph.

They had reached the window at the psychological moment. Nothing could
have suited his purpose better.

Bat turned away abruptly. It was as if some fierce emotion made it
impossible for him to remain another second. His heavy brows depressed,
and his deep-set eyes narrowed to gimlet holes. Skert pursued him. Once
clear of the window, and beyond earshot, Bat flung his reply with all
the passionate force of his fighting nature.

"The lousy swine!" he cried. "I'll close that place sure as--hell."

Skert shook his head as they walked on.

"No, you won't," he said. "Guess you aren't crazy. You'll talk this over
with Sternford. And when you've talked it some, you'll ke