ut now I've got to be paid. What do you
say to five thousand as a fair sum?"

"They'd be willing to pay fully that to save delay," said Bannon,
cheerfully.

"They would!" To save his life Grady could not help looking crestfallen.
It seemed then that he might have got fifty. "All right," he went on,
"five thousand it is; and I want it in hundred-dollar bills."

"You do!" cried Bannon, jumping to his feet. "Do you think you're going to
get a cent of it? I might pay blackmail to an honest rascal who delivered
the goods paid for. But I had your size the first time you came around.
Don't you think I knew what you wanted? If I'd thought you were worth
buying, I'd have settled it up for three hundred dollars and a box of
cigars right at the start. That's about your market price. But as long as
I knew you'd sell us out again if you could, I didn't think you were even
worth the cigars. No; don't tell me what you're going to do. Go out and do
it if you can. And get out of here."

For the second time Bannon took the little delegate by the arm. He marched
him to the head of the long, straight flight of stairs. Then he hesitated
a moment. "I wish you were three sizes larger," he said.

CHAPTER XI

The organization of labor unions is generally democratic. The local lodge
is self-governing; it elects its delegate, who attends a council of
fellow-delegates, and this council may send representatives to a still
more powerful body. But however high their titles, or their salaries,
these dignitaries have power only to suggest action, except in a very
limited variety of cases. There must always be a reference back to the
rank and file. The real decision lies with them.

That is the theory. The laborers on Calumet K, with some others at work in
the neighborhood, had organized into a lodge and had affiliated with the
American Federation of Labor. Grady, who had appeared out of nowhere, who
had urged upon them the need of combining against the forces of
oppression, and had induced them to organize, had been, without dissent,
elected delegate. He was nothing more in theory than this: simply their
concentrated voice. And this theory had the fond support of the laborers.
"He's not our boss; he's our servant," was a sentiment they never tired of
uttering when the delegate was out of earshot.

They met every Friday night, debated, passed portentous resolutions, and
listened to Grady's oratory. After the meeting was over they liked to he