the organization, setting forth
in plain terms the grievance of the members, and charging it bluntly to
bad management. This was followed immediately by similar complaints from
the trainmen, the telegraphers, and the firemen; all praying for relief
from the incubus of incompetent leadership. Not to be behind these, came
the Amalgamated Machinists, demanding an increase of pay for night work
and overtime; and last, but not least, an intimation went forth from the
Federative Council of all these labor unions hinting at possible political
consequences and the alienation of the labor vote if the abuses were not
corrected.

"What d'ye calc'late the major will do about it?" said Brodrick, in the
roundhouse conclave held daily by the trainmen who were hung up or off
duty. "Will he listen to reason and give us a sure-enough railroad man or
two at the top?"

"Not in _ein_ t'ousand year," quoth "Dutch" Tischer, Callahan's alternate
on the fast mail. "Haf you not de _Arkoos_ been reading? It is bolotics
from der beginning to der ent; mit der governor _vorwaerts_."

"Then I am tellin' you-all right now there's goin' to be a heap o'
trouble," drawled "Pike County" Griggs, the oldest engineer on the line.
"The shopmen are b'ilin'; and if the major puts on that blanket cut in
wages he's talkin' about----"

"'If'," broke in Callahan, with fine scorn. "'Tis slaping on yer injuries
ye are, Misther Griggs. The notice is out; 'twas posted in the shops this
day."

"Then that settles it," said Griggs, gloomily. "When does it take hold?"

"The first day av the month to come. An' they're telling me it catches
everybody, down to the missinger b'ys in the of'ces."

Griggs got upon his feet, yawning and stretching before he dropped back
into his corner of the wooden settle.

"You lissen at me: if that's the fact, I'm tellin' you-all that every
wheel on this blame', hoodooed railroad is goin' to stop turnin' at twelve
o'clock on the night before that notice takes hold."

An oil-begrimed wiper crawled from under the 1031, spat at the dope-bucket
and flung his bunch of waste therein.

"Gur-r-r! Let 'em stop," he rasped. "The dope's bad, and the waste's bad;
and the old man has cut out the 'lectrics and put us back on _them_,"
kicking a small jacket lamp to the bottom of an empty stall. "Give 's a
chaw o' yer smokin' plug, Mr. Callahan," and he held out his hand.

Callahan emptied the hot ashes from his black pipe into the open palm.