On the next Monday morning there appeared on the scene ten men clad in blouses and overalls. Three of them worked at mixing mortar, three of them carried hods, three of them commenced laying brick, while the tenth man directed the labors of the other nine. Each had buckled about his waist in plain sight a cartridge belt from which hung a dragoon revolver. As soon as their presence and labors became known, word was sent to labor headquarters, and Delegate Brown was deputed to interview the strangers and ascertain the situation. Pap Brown was a journeyman stone cutter on the other side of the sixties, who did not often work at his trade. The salary he received from the trade unions was sufficient for his support, and he fully earned his salary. He was shrewd, suave, and persistent, and his fatherly way with “the boys,” and deferential manner to employers, often secured to the former favorable adjustments of contests that would have been denied to the “silver-tongued” Raffertys and Blathers. Pap Brown approached one of the men who was engaged in mixing mortar, and inquired whom he was working for. The man addressed made no reply, but signaled the foreman, who came forward and curtly answered:— “We are all working for Mr. Lorin French.” “What wages do you get?” asked Brown. “Well,” replied the foreman after a pause, “strictly speaking, I don’t know as that concerns you, but I have no objection to telling you. The mortar-mixers and hod-carriers get $3.00 a day, the bricklayers $4.00, and I get $5.00.” “Them’s union wages,” said Brown, approvingly. “You are strangers in Frisco, I jedge?” “We arrived last Friday night from Milwaukee,” replied the foreman. “Have you got your cards as members of the union?” said Brown. “No,” replied the party addressed, “we belong to no union.” “Hum! I suppose you are calkilatin’ to jine the unions here?” inquired Brown in a persuasive accent. “I am told,” replied the foreman, “that so far as the Hod-Carriers’ Union is concerned, we cannot join if we wish to; that they have resolved to admit no new members.” Pap Brown slowly revolved his tobacco quid in his mouth, and rapidly revolved the situation in his wise old brain. “Hum!” said he at length, “I reckon that can be arranged for ye, so that ye can all jine.” “Well,” replied the man from Milwaukee, “I may as well tell ye that we don’t calculate to jine anyhow. We don’t much believe in unions nohow—too many fellers a settin’ around drinkin’ beer, which the fellers that work have to pay for.” “Mebbe you don’t know,” said Pap Brown, “that only union men will be allowed to work here.” “Who will stop us?” said the stranger. “There are a good many thousand of the brotherhood in this city,” said Delegate Brown, still persuasively, “and there are only ten of you.” “Well, we ten are fixed to stay,” said the foreman, glancing significantly at his cartridge belt. “Hum!” remarked Pap Brown, as he walked away.