issy, but you will do
irreparable injury to these poor men who put their trust in you and
your kind. Chittenden? That's a pretty poor excuse. You've always
harbored a grudge against my father, and this seems to be your chance.
You've the idea that you can intimidate me. You can't intimidate me
any more than you could my father. More than all this, McQuade is back
of this move; and if I can prove that you accepted a bribe from him,
I'll have you both in court for conspiracy."

"You're talking big. It won't do you any good."

"Wait. I should be willing to wait ten years to call you a thief and a
blackguard in public. But I say to you now, privately, you are both a
thief and a blackguard."

Morrissy stepped back, red in the face. But he recognized the
disadvantage of his position. He was one step lower than his accuser.

"Go on," said Bennington, his voice now hard and metallic; "go on
down. There'll be no rough and tumble here. I won't give you that
satisfaction."

"Well, you mark my words, I'll get satisfaction out of you shortly,
and then you'll talk on the other side of your mouth. This is business
now. When that's done, why, I'll make you eat every one of those
words."

Bennington laughed sinisterly. He could crush the life out of this
flabby ruffian with one arm, easily.

Nothing more was said, and the way to the great molding-room was
traversed silently. Shipley sent out orders, and in a few minutes the
men congregated to hear what the boss had to say. It was, to say the
least, an unusual proceeding, this of an employer delivering a speech
to his men after they had practically declared a strike. Morrissy now
regretted that he had given Bennington any grace at all, for it was
not to be doubted that there was only a small majority of the men who
had voted for a strike. And these were the young men; youth is always
so hot-headed and cock-sure of itself. The older men, the men who had
drawn their pay in the shops for twenty years or more, they were not
so confident.

Bennington mounted a pile of molds and raised his hand. The murmur of
voices dwindled away into silence. The sun came in through the
spreading skylights, and Bennington stood in the center of the
radiance. He was a man, every inch of him, and not a man among them
could deny it. There are many things that are recognizable even to
crass minds, and one of these is a man. Genius they look upon with
contempt, but not strength and resolution; they can