gether with dignity and bowed so low he lost his
center of gravity and teetered a little on his toes before recovering
his balance. "Fired is GOOD," he declared. "Where do you get that
stuff, eh? My dear old Furiosity, ain't my resignation in the
waste-basket? Good-by, good luck and may the good Lord give you the
sense God gives geese. I'm a better man than you are, Gunga Din."

The door banged open. Then it banged shut and The Laird was alone. The
incident was closed. The impossible had come to pass. For the strain
had been too great, and at nine o'clock on a working day morning,
steady, reliable, dependable, automatic Andrew Daney having imbibed
Dutch courage in lieu of Nature's own brand, was, for the first time
in his life, jingled to an extent comparable to that of a boiled owl.

Mr. Daney's assistant thrust his head in the door, to disturb The
Laird's cogitations. "The knee-bolters went out at the shingle mill
this morning, sir," he announced. "They want a six and a half hour day
and a fifty per cent. increase in wages, with a whole holiday on
Saturday. There's a big Russian red down there exhorting them."

"Send Dirty Dan to me. Quick!"

A telephonic summons to the loading shed brought Daniel P. O'Leary on
the run. "Come with me, Dan," The Laird commanded, and started for the
shingle mill. On the way down he stopped at the warehouse and selected
a new double-bitted ax which he handed to Dirty Dan. Mr. O'Leary
received the weapon in silence and trotted along at The Laird's heels
like a faithful dog, until, upon arrival at the shingle mill the
astute Hibernian took in the situation at a glance.

"Sure, 'tis no compliment you've paid me, sor, thinkin' I'll be afther
needin' an ax to take that fella's measure," he protested.

"Your job is to keep those other animals off me while _I_ take his
measure," The Laird corrected him.

Without an instant's hesitation Dirty Dan swung his ax and charged the
crowd. "Gower that, ye vagabones," he screeched. As he passed the
Russian he seized the latter by the collar, swung him and threw him
bodily toward old Hector, who received him greedily and drew him to
his heart. The terrible O'Leary then stood over the battling pair, his
ax poised, the while he hurled insult and anathema at the
knee-bolters. A very large percentage of knee-bolters and shingle
weavers are members of the I.W.W. and knowing this, Mr. O'Leary begged
in dulcet tones, to be informed why in this and that no