saloon, Henry," replied Murphy.

There was a roar of laughter and Murphy followed it quickly. "You all
know me. I was in the saloon business in this valley for twenty years.
But not one of you can say I wasn't on the straight all that time. The
nearest I ever come to doing a man dirt was up in the dam. I was running
a saloon just off the Reserve and Big Boss Manning jumped me and made me
clean out my own joint. I was mad and I went up to the Greek there, who
since is dead, for I heard the Greek was backed by Big Money with which
he backed Fleckenstein to do the Service. Says I to myself, I'll help
the Greek to do Manning.

"But the Greek cursed me out as I'll stand from no man. Then they took
me to Manning and he treated me like a gentleman and asked me for my
word of honor to keep off the Project. I know men. And I saw that the
fellow I'd set out to do was a real man, carrying a load that was too
big for the likes of me to sabez and that it made him sad and lonely. I
was sick of the saloon business, anyhow, and when I got his number, I
was proud to have been licked by him. Do you get me? Proud! And I says,
I'm his friend for life and I'll just keep an eye on the pikers who are
trying to do him.

"And I have. You know me, boys. You know that after the priest and the
doctor it's the saloonkeeper that knows a man's number. Let me tell you
that Fleckenstein is a crook. He'll steal anything from a woman's honor
to a water power site. He's playing you folks for suckers. He's having
everything his own way. Charlie Ives is the only fellow who's had the
nerve to run against Fleckenstein and he's a dead one.

"And now Fleckenstein has done the Big Boss. He's made monkeys of you
farmers. He's got you to roasting Manning till you've ruined him. And
they ain't one of us fit to black his boots. This Project is his life's
blood to him. There isn't anything he would[n't] sacrifice to its
welfare. And you're throwing him out. Ain't a man's sacrifice worth
anything to you? Will you take his best and give him the Judas kiss in
return? Are ye hogs or men?"

There was an angry buzz in the room. Just as Uncle Denny started upon
the platform, a tall lank farmer whom the man next him had been nudging
violently, rose.

"My name's Marshall," he said, "and my friend Miguel here says I gotta
get up and say the few things he and I agreed on last night. I'm mighty
sick of hearing us farmers called fools. And now even the women folks
have be