't lookin' for trouble, an' he's as
innocent as... well, he's the innocentest scab that ever come down the
pike an' bumped into a couple of pickets. Not a regular strike-breaker,
you see, just a big rube that's read the bosses' ads an' come a-humpin'
to town for the big wages.

"An' here's Bud Strothers an' me comin' along. We always go in pairs
that way, an' sometimes bigger bunches. I flag the rube. 'Hello,' says
I, 'lookin' for a job?' 'You bet,' says he. 'Can you drive?' 'Yep.'
'Four horses!' 'Show me to 'em,' says he. 'No josh, now,' says I;
'you're sure wantin' to drive?' 'That's what I come to town for,' he
says. 'You're the man we're lookin' for,' says I. 'Come along, an' we'll
have you busy in no time.'

"You see, Saxon, we can't pull it off there, because there's Tom
Scanlon--you know, the red-headed cop only a couple of blocks away an'
pipin' us off though not recognizin' us. So away we go, the three of us,
Bud an' me leadin' that boob to take our jobs away from us I guess nit.
We turn into the alley back of Campwell's grocery. Nobody in sight. Bud
stops short, and the rube an' me stop.

"'I don't think he wants to drive,' Bud says, considerin'. An' the rube
says quick, 'You betcher life I do.' 'You're dead sure you want that
job?' I says. Yes, he's dead sure. Nothin's goin' to keep him away from
that job. Why, that job's what he come to town for, an' we can't lead
him to it too quick.

"'Well, my friend,' says I, 'it's my sad duty to inform you that
you've made a mistake.' 'How's that?' he says. 'Go on,' I says; 'you're
standin' on your foot.' And, honest to God, Saxon, that gink looks down
at his feet to see. 'I don't understand,' says he. 'We're goin' to show
you,' says I.

"An' then--Biff! Bang! Bingo! Swat! Zooie! Ker-slambango-blam!
Fireworks, Fourth of July, Kingdom Come, blue lights, sky-rockets, an'
hell fire--just like that. It don't take long when you're scientific an'
trained to tandem work. Of course it's hard on the knuckles. But say,
Saxon, if you'd seen that rube before an' after you'd thought he was a
lightnin' change artist. Laugh? You'd a-busted."

Billy halted to give vent to his own mirth. Saxon forced herself to
join with him, but down in her heart was horror. Mercedes was right. The
stupid workers wrangled and snarled over jobs. The clever masters rode
in automobiles and did not wrangle and snarl. They hired other stupid
ones to do the wrangling and snarling for them. It was men