The meeting hall was on the third floor of a brick building only a short distance from the station. It was reached by two long flights of steep and narrow stairs, and was cold and scantily2 furnished and uninviting. At various points about the room, large arm chairs stood on little platforms, these being the stations for the officers of the lodge, when going through the intricacies of the ritual. Rows of smaller chairs were pushed back along the walls, there was a table or two—and that was all.
On this bright morning in late January, as has been said, the hall was crowded. A group had gathered around Bassett, who was declaiming excitedly.
“It’s our chance,” he was saying. “Now’s the time t’show the road who’s boss. You know well enough all the other orders’ll stand by us, an’ we’ll tie the division up so tight it can’t turn a wheel.”
The younger men nodded emphatically, but a few of the older ones looked grave. They had been through strikes before, and knew that they did not always turn out as the strikers anticipated.
“I don’t know,” put in one of them, hesitatingly. “I don’t believe we’ll ever be able to boss the road. It don’t look right. If you had a business, you’d want to run it, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” flashed Bassett. “But I’d run it square.”
“Well, that’s all we’re tryin’ to do now, ain’t it?”
“Some o’ you fellers seem to be hopin’ there’ll be a strike. Mebbe they’ll reinstate Bassett.”
“Mebbe they will,” growled4 that worthy5, “but I don’t believe it. They ain’t got manhood enough to do that.”
In his heart, he knew that he had been wrong, and did not deserve reinstatement; but this consciousness of guilt6 interfered7 in no way with the bold face he turned to the world, and the loud voice in which he proclaimed his wrongs. And a bold face and loud voice often have great weight with the unthinking, who mistake them for the earmarks of innocence8.
“Well, I hope they will,” said another of the older men, wistfully. “I ain’t in no sort o’ shape to stand a strike.”
“I ain’t either,” put in one of the younger men, boldly, “but that don’t make no difference. I’d ruther starve ’n work fer a company as wouldn’t do the right thing.”
“It’s all right to starve yourself,” rejoined the older man. “I used t’ feel that way, too; but when it comes t’ starvin’ yer family, it’s a different matter—mighty9 different.”
“Yes,” added another, “an’ when a feller’s built a house an’ is payin’ fer it in the Buildin’ an’ Loan, a strike don’t look good, neither. If a feller can’t make his payments, he loses his house, without any ifs or ands about it.”
“Pshaw!” put in the young fellow, easily. “The brotherhood’ll take care of you. You won’t starve nor lose your house, neither.”
“Mebbe not. But if I loses my job, a lot o’ good my house’ll do me, won’t it?”
“Lose yer job? How kin you do that?”
“Easy enough. I’ve seen—”
But a sudden shout from the door interrupted him.
“Here’s Nixon! Here’s Nixon!”
And the great man was half-pushed, half-carried forward to the platform at the end of the room.
He smiled about to those on the right and left of him, and finally mounted the platform and deliberately10 removed overcoat and hat. A close observer might have seen that he was very nervous, but he held himself well in hand. The truth is, Nixon had not anticipated so large an outpouring nor such intense interest in the case and in consequence, found the task confronting him considerably11 more difficult than he had thought it would be.
He took out his handkerchief and passed it over his moist moustache, for he had stopped in the saloon on the first floor to take a single “bracer,” then he held up his hand impressively for silence. Nixon believed in doing a thing dramatically.
“Well, boys,” he announced, “I’ve seen Schofield.”
“What did he say?” shouted one of the men, impatient of Nixon’s deliberate manner.
“Now, look here,” yelled Nixon, searching the offender12 out with threatening forefinger13, “I won’t be interrupted—I won’t! If another man does that, I leave—an’ I’ll let y’ wait a week fer a letter from headquarters. You don’t seem t’ realize what it means fer a man like me t’ come down here t’ settle your rows.”
“That’s what you’re paid fer,” murmured one of the men, in a far corner, but he lowered his voice carefully.
“Schofield an’ I went over the situation from a to izzard,” Nixon continued, when quiet was restored, satisfied that there would be no further interruptions. “He gave me the case from the road’s side, and I gave him the case from our side, and I can’t deny that he had the best of me.”
“The fact of the matter is,” he went on, raising his voice suddenly and glowering15 at Bassett, who occupied a place in the front line, “this man Bassett was drunk the other night, and every mother’s son of you knows it.”
“It’s a lie!” yelled Bassett, white as death, and again there was a murmur, but again Nixon managed to still it.
“I’ll answer you,” he said, pointing to Bassett, “after this meetin’ adjourns16. I ain’t here to argue. I’m here to state facts. This man was drunk an’ insulted his superior officer. The road had a right to fire him on two counts—fer bein’ drunk an’ fer insubordination.”
He paused an instant and glowered17 around. There had been a little movement at the door a few minutes before, and Mr. Schofield had stepped quietly inside, followed by the two men whom Nixon had seen standing18 in the hall outside the superintendent19’s office. But so intent was everyone on what Nixon was saying that no one observed them, and they stood watching the proceedings20 without question or interference.
“Now, I’m going to give it to you fellers straight,” continued Nixon. “You need it. You’ve been makin’ a little tin god of this feller and he ain’t worth it. Now my advice to you is, drop him. Kick him out. At any rate, the grand lodge won’t back you up if you try to call a strike about this, and you know what that means. It means that your charter will be taken away from you and the lodge disbanded. The grand lodge will see every time that you get your rights, but it won’t back you up when you’re as clearly in the wrong as you are now. Why, to call a strike for a thing like that would be suicide. Let me tell you boys something—you’ll never win any strike unless you have the public with you. If the public’s against you, sooner or later you’ll be going back to work like whipped curs—an’ you’ll be lucky if you kin get your old jobs. An’ I guess that’s all,” he concluded, mopping his forehead with his handkerchief.
Then his eyes rested on three men who had been gradually working their way toward the stage, and he caught his breath sharply. But in an instant, by a mighty effort, he had recovered his self-control.
“Boys,” he said, “here’s Mr. Schofield himself. I’m glad he’s with us. I want to say that I’ve found him a square man.” There was a little flutter of applause at this, for most of them had themselves found him to be a square man. “We would all be glad to have Mr. Schofield address us a few words,” added Nixon, but he glanced at the superintendent apprehensively21, as the latter, in response to the invitation, stepped with alacrity22 upon the platform.
“Yes,” said Mr. Schofield, turning and facing the expectant audience, “I want to say a few words to you. I have heard what Mr. Nixon has been saying—I have listened to him with great pleasure. For I believe that what he has told you is true—in the first place, that the road was right in discharging Bassett and in refusing to reinstate him, and in the second place that no strike can succeed unless it has the public behind it.”
Here he glanced at Nixon, who had seated himself in the president’s chair and who was nodding from time to time, as Mr. Schofield proceeded, every trace of apprehension23 banished24 from his countenance25.
“But before I go further,” Mr. Schofield continued, “I ought, perhaps, to apologize for my presence here. I had intended, of course, to ask permission to enter, but there wasn’t anybody at the door, nor anybody to ask, so I just came in. I ask permission now.”
“That’s all right,” shouted one of the men, “go ahead,” and it was evident from their smiling faces that everyone present concurred26 in the invitation.
“Thank you,” said Mr. Schofield. “And now,” he continued, more seriously, “I have something to say to you. As I said, I was glad to hear Mr. Nixon’s sentiments and to see that, on the whole, you agreed with him. I certainly think that the road was right in the stand it took, and I believe all of you will agree with me when you think it over. You have always found the road ready to meet you half way in any reasonable demand, but we’ve got to maintain discipline or quit business. And, after all—and here I’m talking very frankly27 to you—it’s we who are running the road and not you. Of course, if you don’t like the job, you can quit it—we don’t quarrel with that; but, if you are really fair-minded, you will see our side, too, which is that if you break the rules, you must take the consequences. When you take employment with the road, you agree to obey the rules, and you can’t object if the road holds you to the bargain.”
The superintendent was evidently carrying the crowd with him, and he paused a moment before launching his bombshell. Should he launch it, he asked himself, or should he let well enough alone? There would be no strike, everything had been quietly smoothed over. Nixon had carried out his agreement. Was it not wiser to stop now and let affairs take their course? Then the remembrance of Allan West’s flushed and indignant face rose before him and he nerved himself to go on.
“So I was interested to hear Mr. Nixon’s opinions,” he said, slowly, “and I thought you might be interested in knowing how Mr. Nixon arrived at them.”
At the words, Nixon turned livid and half-started from his chair, but Mr. Schofield heard the movement and turned toward him sternly.
“Sit down,” he said, curtly28, and the two men who had come in with him moved closer to Nixon’s chair. “This representative of yours,” he continued, impressively, “came to me this morning. I told him we had decided29 not to reinstate Bassett. He said that in that case, there would be a strike—a general strike—that would cost us thousands of dollars. He hinted that the stock-yards would be set afire and other damage done to the company’s property. But in the end, he agreed to report against Bassett and prevent a strike, in consideration of the payment to him of the sum of one thousand dollars.”
The room woke up at the words as though a cyclone30 had suddenly broken loose. Nixon was on his feet, shaking his great fist at the speaker, who was himself trembling with excitement.
“I paid him the money,” shouted Mr. Schofield, in a voice which dominated even that tumult31, “and he delivered the goods!”
The words fanned the flames anew, for a moment, and then a sudden silence fell upon the crowd, as Bassett sprang to the platform.
“If this thing’s true,” he shouted, his face as white as Nixon’s, “we want proofs. I’ve stood here an’ heard myself called a drunkard an’ liar32, but I don’t care. I want proof.”
“And you shall have proof,” retorted Mr. Schofield, “if you’ll be quiet a minute. That’s right—don’t let him get away,” he added, as Nixon tried to slip from the platform and was promptly33 collared by the two strangers.
“Who are you?” demanded the prisoner, white with rage. “Leggo me or I’ll knock you down!”
“Oh, no, you won’t, Johnny,” rejoined one of them calmly, and showed his shield.
“Exactly.”
“Let me set down,” said Nixon, faintly, and sank back into the chair from which he had arisen.
“Now,” continued the superintendent, when that little by-play was ended, “if you’ll listen a moment, I’ll give you your proof. I had intended to have Nixon arrested as he left my office, but when he told me he was coming right over here, I thought it would be more convincing to all of you if I made the disclosure here. My proof is, that in the inside pocket of Nixon’s coat there is a package of ten one hundred dollar bills. They are notes issued by the First National Bank of this city, and range from number A142320 to A142329. As a further mark of identification, each of them has a small cross in red ink just over the head of the eagle.”
“We’ll see!” he cried savagely36, and ripping Nixon’s coat open plunged37 his hand into the inside pocket.
An instant later, he snatched it out again, and waved the packet of bills in the air over his head.
“It’s true!” he yelled. “He’s sold us!”
And he turned upon Nixon as though to rend38 him limb from limb, while the mob pressed forward like so many maddened beasts.
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收听单词发音
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1
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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2
scantily
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| adv.缺乏地；不充足地；吝啬地；狭窄地 | |
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3
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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4
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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5
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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6
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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7
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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8
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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9
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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10
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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12
offender
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| n.冒犯者，违反者，犯罪者 | |
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13
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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14
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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15
glowering
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| v.怒视( glower的现在分词 ) | |
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16
adjourns
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| （使）休会， （使）休庭( adjourn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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17
glowered
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| v.怒视( glower的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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19
superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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21
apprehensively
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| adv.担心地 | |
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alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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24
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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26
concurred
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| 同意（concur的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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28
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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29
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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30
cyclone
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| n.旋风，龙卷风 | |
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31
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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32
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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34
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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35
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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36
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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37
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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38
rend
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| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
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