Simpson, early recognizing Bassett’s violent and quarrelsome disposition4, had foreseen this development, and had lost no opportunity to strengthen himself with the conservative element and to gain its confidence. He had worked wisely and well, and the consequence was that Bassett’s following had melted away so rapidly that Simpson at last felt himself strong enough to administer a stinging warning to the offender5.
In this victory, Simpson had been greatly aided by the course of events. Many of the engineers had opposed the strike at the outset, but had been over-borne by the younger element; as the days passed, more and more, under Simpson’s careful guidance, had come to acknowledge that the strike was a mistake and that public opinion was turning against them. The older men were especially outspoken7 in their expressions of regret, and while many of the younger men kept up a semblance8 of contentment, it was plainly to be seen that they, too, were growing uneasy. Almost the only one who was still openly pleased with the strike was Bassett himself.
The discontent with the situation had found expression on the floor of the lodge9 the night before, when Jim Adams had suggested that a committee be appointed to wait upon the officials of the road, and see whether an agreement to end the strike could not be reached. It was this suggestion which had led to Bassett’s assault and to the subsequent warning and reprimand which Simpson had given him.
In consequence of all this, everyone felt that affairs were reaching a crisis, and the lodge room was even more crowded than usual, this evening, as the hour for the meeting approached. The men gathered in little groups and discussed in low tones the scene of the evening before. It was evident that a new spirit had come over the men, and more than one stated that it was his intention to approve the suggestion made by Adams the night before, and that he would not allow Rafe Bassett to roar him down. But none of them cared to provoke unnecessarily Bassett’s open enmity, for he was universally recognized as a dangerous man, and when, at last, he swaggered into the room, plainly under the influence of liquor, an uneasy silence fell upon the crowd.
The meeting was called to order, and Simpson arose to make a few announcements. He waited until Bassett, evidently spoiling for a fight, swaggered noisily to a chair near the stage.
“There is no change in the situation,” he began. “The strike is progressing quietly—”
“Too blame quietly,” Bassett broke in. “You’d think we was a lot o’ Sunday school kids by the way we set around with our hands folded, actin’ like sugar wouldn’t melt in our—”
“Order! Order!” called the chairman, rapping with his gavel, and Bassett subsided10, growling11, into his chair.
“As I was saying,” Simpson proceeded calmly, “the strike is progressing quietly. One good piece of news I have—the fellows who tried to set fire to the stock-yards have been arrested and turned out to be a couple of saloon bums13, who never worked on a railroad, or anywhere else, and of course never belonged to the brotherhood14. I’m mighty15 glad that this effectually clears the brotherhood of any suspicion of being implicated16 in the affair.”
“How do you know they’re the ones?” Bassett demanded.
“I understand they have confessed.”
“Been given the third degree, I guess. Who’s defendin’ ’em?”
“I don’t know, nor care. The brotherhood certainly won’t defend them. If they haven’t any money, counsel for them will be appointed by the court, I suppose, in the usual way.”
“And they’ll be railroaded to the pen, also in the usual way,” sneered18 Bassett. “It makes me sick the way we go back on our friends.”
“They’re not our friends,” said Simpson, sharply. “They’re the worst enemies we’ve got. We’re in no way responsible for them nor indebted to them.”
“Ain’t we?” and Bassett was on his feet again. “Where’d they git the whiskey they tanked up on afore they tackled the job? Who give it to them?”
“I don’t know—some saloon-keeper, probably.”
“No, it wasn’t no saloon-keeper,” cried Bassett, “an’ you know it. What would a saloon-keeper be givin’ away good whiskey fer? An’ more’n that, where’d they git the twenty dollars that was found on each of ’em? Did a saloon-keeper give ’em that, too?”
“Since you seem to know so much about it,” said Simpson, with ominous19 calmness, “suppose you tell us.”
“All right, I will tell you!” yelled Bassett, his self-control suddenly slipping from him. “Though I won’t be tellin’ you no news, for all your standin’ there lookin’ so goody-good. It’s sneaks20 like you an’ Jim Adams, what want t’ go crawlin’ back lickin’ the boots of the railroad, that disgusts me with the brotherhood.”
“Sneak yourself!” cried Adams, jumping to his feet and starting for Bassett, but two of his friends seized him and held him back.
“Let him come on!” shouted Bassett, fairly purple. “I’ll fix him this time—I’ve been wantin’ to fer years. Let him come on!”
But Adams was pulled panting back into his chair.
“Did you hear what he said?” he demanded of those about him. “Did you hear what he said? He as good as admitted he tried to do fer me that night at Jones Run bridge!”
But they weren’t listening to him; they were listening to Bassett, who, fairly livid with rage, had turned back to Simpson.
“Yes,” he shouted, “goody-goody sneaks like you an’ Adams—standin’ there lettin’ on you don’t know who it was put them poor devils up to firin’ the stock-yards!”
“I’ve already asked you to tell me,” repeated Simpson, quietly.
“It was two members of this lodge!” yelled Bassett, quite beside himself. “It was two members of this lodge what give the whiskey an’ the cash, an’ they knowed what they was doin’, too!”
The place was in an uproar21; angry voices demanded the names of the offending members, denials were shouted across the room, fists were shaken; but the chairman finally succeeded in beating down the din17 until Simpson’s voice could be heard again. His face was flushed and there was a dangerous light in his eyes as he turned to Bassett, who had subsided into his seat again.
“Mr. Bassett,” he began, “you have said too much not to say more. I demand the names of those two men.”
But Bassett had already said more than he had intended to say, and heartily22 regretted his hasty tongue.
“I ain’t no tale-bearer,” he protested. “I know what I know; but it don’t go no furder.”
“You refuse to tell?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then,” said Simpson, firmly, “by virtue23 of the authority vested in me by the Grand Lodge, I suspend you from membership in the brotherhood until a hearing of this case can be had.”
“What!” yelled Bassett, on his feet again, his face purple. “Suspend me! Why, you—you snake! Boys,” he shouted, “do you stand fer this?” It’s Nixon over ag’in! Oh, they’re all rotten! I tell you those fellers layin’ in jail down at Cincinnati ought t’ be looked after by the brotherhood—I tell you why—I speak as a man to men—I don’t believe in lettin’ some corporation-owned Hamilton County judge railroad them to the pen. It ain’t right, an’ every man of you knows it ain’t right. But I ain’t no informer—I won’t say nothin’ more—an’ because I won’t, this here whipper-snapper from headquarters says he’ll suspend me. Boys, I tell you the Grand Lodge is rotten through an’ through. It’s owned by the railroads. It’s time we turned the scoundrels out!”
It was a good talk, effectively delivered, and it carried some of the younger men with it, as was shown by the subdued24 growl12 which ran around the room. Not so very long before, it would have carried the whole lodge with it, but sentiment had changed. Simpson, who had gone through just such scenes before, never turned a hair.
“And I want to say to you,” he said, “that the Grand Lodge is devoted25 to you, and you know it—deep down in your hearts, you know it. Yes, and I want to add that I think we made a mistake in consenting to this strike, and in my opinion the sooner we call it off the better. As to those fellows at Cincinnati, so far from defending them, the brotherhood has promised to pay, and will pay, a reward of five hundred dollars upon their conviction, and it will pay the same reward for the conviction of the scoundrel who tried to dynamite26 the bridge at Parkersburg.
“As for this man,” he added, pointing to Bassett, “he is no longer a member of the brotherhood and will not be until he is reinstated—and if that ever happens, which I don’t believe, it will certainly be against my advice. As this lodge has further business to transact27, I would therefore ask Mr. Bassett to retire.”
“Retire yourself!” shouted Bassett, now thoroughly28 enraged29. “If you want me out, you’ll have to put me out, an’ I’d like to see you do it!”
“Oh, I’ll do it, if necessary,” retorted Simpson. “But before you go, I want to say one thing to you for all these men to hear. It’s blackguards like you who bring discredit30 upon the brotherhood and upon unionism generally—blackguards who are always trying to get something they don’t deserve, and to evade31 something they do deserve. It’s blackguards like you who think the union cause is helped by violence, and who want every strike to be accompanied by violence. Now, apart from any consideration of right or wrong—”
“What is this, a sermon?” demanded Bassett, looking around with a raucous32 laugh—but it found no echo.
“Yes,” retorted Simpson; “and a sermon you’ll do well to listen to. Apart from any consideration of right or wrong, nothing hurts our cause like violence—I think we’ve found that out—and the fellow who advocates violence or assists in it is an enemy and not a friend. And I haven’t the slightest doubt,” he added, wheeling upon Bassett, “that it was this fellow here who was responsible for that fire at the stock-yards.”
Bassett, his face white and drawn33 with passion, could only sputter34 inarticulately for a moment. Then, by a mighty effort, he regained35 control of himself.
“You’re pipin’ a different tune,” he sneered, “from what you did when you first come down here. Why? Have you been seen, like Nixon was? Have you got a wad of railroad money in your pocket?”
“Sergeant-at-arms,” called Simpson, “this fellow is not a member of this lodge. Remove him, so that the meeting can proceed.”
Then Simpson sat down and awaited the event with serene36 confidence. For, as has been stated, he had been in just such a position more than once before, and he had planned carefully to meet this crisis. The sergeant-at-arms, instructed beforehand in his duties, summoned two assistants and advanced upon Bassett. For a moment, it was evident that that individual meditated37 resistance; then, as he sized up the three stalwart men confronting him, he realized the futility38 of it.
“All right,” he said; “I’ll go. But don’t put your hands on me—I won’t stand that. An’ I just want to say one thing: you’ll all of you regret this night’s work.”
And catching39 up his overcoat, he followed the sergeant-at-arms to the door, which closed after him a moment later.
The night’s experience had sobered him, but nevertheless he reeled slightly as he went down the stairs—not with intoxication40, but with a kind of vertigo41 of rage. He paused at the foot of the stairs to recover himself.
“They framed it up on me!” he muttered to himself. “The hounds! To think of their framin’ it up on me!”
And he got out his handkerchief and mopped his forehead with shaking hand. Then, entering the saloon on the ground floor of the building, he asked for two quart bottles of whiskey.
The bartender, an old acquaintance, ventured to protest.
“Look here, Rafe,” he said, “you’re goin’ it too strong. Better let up a little, old man.”
“Oh, this ain’t fer me,” answered Bassett, laughing grimly. “I’m givin’ a little blow-out to-night. This is fer the company,” and putting a bottle in each coat-pocket, he hurried from the place.
The bartender gazed after him speculatively42, for there was a strangeness in his manner, a sort of menace, as of a man who has thrown down the gauntlet to society, regardless of the consequences, but other customers demanded attention, and the bartender soon forgot all about the incident. Could he have followed Bassett, he would have been more and more surprised; for the latter’s path did not lead him home, nor to any place suggestive of a social function. Instead, he turned down the nearest alley43, came out upon the railroad track and followed it toward the river. Once he passed a track-walker, but the latter did not recognize the dark figure apparently44 hurrying toward home.
The road ran past back yards, from which an occasional dog saluted45 him, crossed a street at an angle, skirted a row of tumble-down brick buildings, and then emerged upon the river bank, which it skirted for perhaps half a mile. Upon this bank, in the days when municipal sanitation46 was not what it now is, a number of slaughter-houses had been built, because of the convenience of running their refuse into the river. This had been stopped some years before, and the buildings, already decrepit47 and decayed, had fallen into a still more disreputable condition.
A high board fence surrounded the little stretch of ground in front of them, and before this Bassett paused, groped an instant, pulled aside a loose board and slipped through. He let the board slide into place behind him, crossed the dirty yard, and, producing a key from his pocket, applied48 it to the lock of the first door he came to. An instant later, he had opened the door and entered.
An odour incredibly foul49 and overpowering greeted him, and he paused to catch his breath, as it were. Then, groping his way forward along the wall, he came to another door, which he opened. Carefully closing it behind him, he struck a match. Its glow revealed a black pit yawning before him, into which plunged50 a steep and narrow stair. On a ledge6 at the top was a candle-end, and lighting51 this and holding it before him, Bassett descended52 the stair, which creaked and groaned53 ominously54 under his weight. At the bottom he blew out his candle and placed it carefully on the lowest step.
He could hear the ripple55 of the river close at hand, but no other sound, for he was at the bottom of the shaft56 which led to the water’s edge. He apparently knew the place well, for he felt his way forward until his hands touched a board partition. Upon this he rapped sharply three times and then, after an interval57, a fourth.
Instantly there was a sharp click and a little door swung open, disclosing a man holding a candle above his head and peering out into the darkness—a little, shrivelled man, with livid, pock-marked face and venomous eyes.
“All right, Hummel,” said Bassett, and stepped inside and drew the door shut after him.
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1
factions
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| 组织中的小派别，派系( faction的名词复数 ) | |
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2
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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3
culminated
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| v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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4
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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offender
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| n.冒犯者，违反者，犯罪者 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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outspoken
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| adj.直言无讳的，坦率的，坦白无隐的 | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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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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10
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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11
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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12
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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13
bums
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| n. 游荡者，流浪汉，懒鬼，闹饮，屁股 adj. 没有价值的，不灵光的，不合理的 vt. 令人失望，乞讨 vi. 混日子，以乞讨为生 | |
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14
brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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15
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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implicated
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| adj.密切关联的；牵涉其中的 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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sneaks
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| abbr.sneakers (tennis shoes) 胶底运动鞋（网球鞋）v.潜行( sneak的第三人称单数 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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24
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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25
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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26
dynamite
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| n./vt.(用)炸药(爆破) | |
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transact
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| v.处理；做交易；谈判 | |
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28
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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29
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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30
discredit
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| vt.使不可置信；n.丧失信义；不信，怀疑 | |
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31
evade
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| vt.逃避，回避；避开，躲避 | |
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32
raucous
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| adj.(声音)沙哑的，粗糙的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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sputter
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| n.喷溅声；v.喷溅 | |
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35
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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36
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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37
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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38
futility
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| n.无用 | |
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39
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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40
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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41
vertigo
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| n.眩晕 | |
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42
speculatively
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| adv.思考地，思索地；投机地 | |
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43
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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44
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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45
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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46
sanitation
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| n.公共卫生，环境卫生，卫生设备 | |
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47
decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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48
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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49
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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50
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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51
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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52
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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53
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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54
ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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55
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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56
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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57
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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