In his very first night the new recruit had made himself one of the most popular of the brethren, marked already for advancement and high office. There were other qualities needed, however, besides those of good fellowship, to make a worthy Freeman, and of these he was given an example before the evening was over. The whisky bottle had passed round many times, and the men were flushed and ripe for mischief when their Bodymaster rose once more to address them.
“Boys,” said he, “there’s one man in this town that wants trimming up, and it’s for you to see that he gets it. I’m speaking of James Stanger of the Herald. You’ve seen how he’s been opening his mouth against us again?”
There was a murmur of assent, with many a muttered oath. McGinty took a slip of paper from his waistcoat pocket.
“LAW AND ORDER!
That’s how he heads it.
“REIGN OF TERROR IN THE COAL AND IRON DISTRICT
“Twelve years have now elapsed since the first assassinations which proved the existence of a criminal organization in our midst. From that day these outrages have never ceased, until now they have reached a pitch which makes us the opprobrium of the civilized world. Is it for such results as this that our great country welcomes to its bosom the alien who flies from the despotisms of Europe? Is it that they shall themselves become tyrants over the very men who have given them shelter, and that a state of terrorism and lawlessness should be established under the very shadow of the sacred folds of the starry Flag of Freedom which would raise horror in our minds if we read of it as existing under the most effete monarchy of the East? The men are known. The organization is patent and public. How long are we to endure it? Can we forever live- -
Sure, I’ve read enough of the slush!” cried the chairman, tossing the paper down upon the table. “That’s what he says of us. The question I’m asking you is what shall we say to him?”
“Kill him!” cried a dozen fierce voices.
“I protest against that,” said Brother Morris, the man of the good brow and shaved face. “I tell you, Brethren, that our hand is too heavy in this valley, and that there will come a point where in self-defense every man will unite to crush us out. James Stanger is an old man. He is respected in the township and the district. His paper stands for all that is solid in the valley. If that man is struck down, there will be a stir through this state that will only end with our destruction.”
“And how would they bring about our destruction, Mr. Standback?” cried McGinty. “Is it by the police? Sure, half of them are in our pay and half of them afraid of us. Or is it by the law courts and the judge? Haven’t we tried that before now, and what ever came of it?”
“There is a Judge Lynch that might try the case,” said Brother Morris.
A general shout of anger greeted the suggestion.
“I have but to raise my finger,” cried McGinty, “and I could put two hundred men into this town that would clear it out from end to end.” Then suddenly raising his voice and bending his huge black brows into a terrible frown, “See here, Brother Morris, I have my eye on you, and have had for some time! You’ve no heart yourself, and you try to take the heart out of others. It will be an ill day for you, Brother Morris, when your own name comes on our agenda paper, and I’m thinking that it’s just there that I ought to place it.”
