wo hundred and nine such jobs on the
various corporations that you control. The gang you shipped up to the
mill in Washington has already applied for a charter for a new post to
be known as Cappy Ricks Post No. 534. And you had experienced men
discharged to make room for these ex-soldiers."

"You bet I did," Cappy yelled triumphantly. "It's always Old Home Week
in every logging camp and saw-mill in the Northwest for I.W.W.'s and
revolutionary communists. I'm sick of their unauthorized strikes and
sabotage, and by the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, Cappy Ricks Post. No. 534,
American Legion, is the only sort of back-fire I can think of to put the
Wobblies on the run."

"Every office and ship and retail yard could be run by a
first-sergeant," Skinner complained. "I'm thinking of having reveille
and retreat and bugle calls and Saturday morning inspections. I tell
you, sir, the Ricks interests have absorbed all the old soldiers
possible and at the present moment those interests are overflowing with
glory. What we want are workers, not talkers. These ex-soldiers spend
too much time fighting their battles over again."

"Well, Comrade Peck is the last one I'll ask you to absorb, Skinner,"
Cappy promised contritely. "Ever read Kipling's Barrack Room Ballads,
Skinner?"

"I have no time to read," Mr. Skinner protested.

"Go up town this minute and buy a copy and read one ballad entitled
'Tommy,'" Cappy barked. "For the good of your immortal soul," he added.

"Well, Comrade Peck doesn't make a hit with me, Mr. Ricks. He applied to
me for a job and I gave him his answer. Then he went to Captain Matt and
was refused, so, just to demonstrate his bad taste, he went over our
heads and induced you to pitchfork him into a job. He'll curse the day
he was inspired to do that."

"Skinner! Skinner! Look me in the eye! Do you know why I asked you to
take on Bill Peck?"

"I do. Because you're too tender-hearted for your own good."

"You unimaginative dunderhead! You jibbering jackdaw! How could I reject
a boy who simply would not be rejected? Why, I'll bet a ripe peach that
Bill Peck was one of the doggondest finest soldiers you ever saw. He
carries his objective. He sized you up just like that, Skinner. He
declined to permit you to block him. Skinner, that Peck person has been
opposed by experts. Yes, sir--experts! What kind of a job are you going
to give him, Skinner, my dear boy?"

"Andrews' job, of course."

"Oh, yes, I forgot. Skin