he had been a union man, and he
was known in the yards as a workingman; he must have hundreds of
acquaintances, and as he had never talked politics with them he might
come out as a Republican now without exciting the least suspicion. There
were barrels of money for the use of those who could deliver the goods;
and Jurgis might count upon Mike Scully, who had never yet gone back on
a friend. Just what could he do? Jurgis asked, in some perplexity, and
the other explained in detail. To begin with, he would have to go to the
yards and work, and he mightn't relish that; but he would have what he
earned, as well as the rest that came to him. He would get active in the
union again, and perhaps try to get an office, as he, Harper, had; he
would tell all his friends the good points of Doyle, the Republican
nominee, and the bad ones of the "sheeny"; and then Scully would
furnish a meeting place, and he would start the "Young Men's Republican
Association," or something of that sort, and have the rich brewer's
best beer by the hogshead, and fireworks and speeches, just like the
War Whoop League. Surely Jurgis must know hundreds of men who would like
that sort of fun; and there would be the regular Republican leaders and
workers to help him out, and they would deliver a big enough majority on
election day.

When he had heard all this explanation to the end, Jurgis demanded: "But
how can I get a job in Packingtown? I'm blacklisted."

At which "Bush" Harper laughed. "I'll attend to that all right," he
said.

And the other replied, "It's a go, then; I'm your man." So Jurgis went
out to the stockyards again, and was introduced to the political lord of
the district, the boss of Chicago's mayor. It was Scully who owned the
brick-yards and the dump and the ice pond--though Jurgis did not know it.
It was Scully who was to blame for the unpaved street in which Jurgis's
child had been drowned; it was Scully who had put into office the
magistrate who had first sent Jurgis to jail; it was Scully who was
principal stockholder in the company which had sold him the ramshackle
tenement, and then robbed him of it. But Jurgis knew none of these
things--any more than he knew that Scully was but a tool and puppet of
the packers. To him Scully was a mighty power, the "biggest" man he had
ever met.

He was a little, dried-up Irishman, whose hands shook. He had a brief
talk with his visitor, watching him with his ratlike eyes, and making
up his mind