The speaker was saying, “What are we white men goin’ to do? Set still an’ let niggers steal the bread out of our mouths? Ain’t it our duty to rise up like free Americans an’ drive ’em from the place? Who dares say no to that?” Cleary made the usual pause for dramatic effect and to let the incontrovertibility of his argument sink into the minds of his hearers. The pause was fatal. A voice broke the stillness that followed his question, “I do!” and Andrews pushed his way through the crowd to the front. “There ain’t anybody stealin’ the bread out of our mouths, niggers ner nobody else. If men throw away their bread, why, a dog has the right to pick it up.” There were dissenting murmurs, and Cleary turned to his opponent with a sneer. “Humph, I’d be bound for you, Jason Andrews, first on the side of the bosses and then takin’ up for the niggers. Boys, I’ll bet he’s a Republican!” A laugh greeted this sally. The red mounted into the foreman’s face and made his tan seem darker. “I’m as good a Democrat as any of you,” he said, looking around, “and you say that again, Red Cleary, and I’ll push the words down your throat with my fist.” Cleary knew his man and turned the matter off. “We don’t care nothin’ about what party you vote with. We intend to stand up for our rights. Mebbe you’ve got something to say ag’in that.” “I’ve got something to say, but not against any man’s rights. There’s men here that have known me and are honest, and they will say whether I’ve acted on the square or not since I’ve been among you. But there is right as well as rights. As for the niggers, I ain’t any friendlier to ’em than the rest of you. But I ain’t the man to throw up a job and then howl when somebody else gets it. If we don’t want our hoe-cake, there’s others that do.” The plain sense of Andrews’ remarks calmed the men, and Cleary, seeing that his power was gone, moved away from the centre of the crowd, “I’ll settle with you later,” he muttered, as he passed Jason. “There ain’t any better time than now,” replied the latter, seizing his arm and drawing him back. “Here, here, don’t fight,” cried some one. “Go on, Cleary, there may be something better than a fellow-workman to try your muscle on before long.” The crowd came closer and pushed between the two men. With many signs of reluctance, but willingly withal, Cleary allowed himself to be hustled away. The crowd dispersed, but Jason Andrews knew that he had only temporarily quieted the turmoil in the breasts of the men. It would break out very soon again, he told himself. Musing thus, he took his homeward way. As he reached the open road on the rise that led to his cabin, he heard the report of a pistol, and a shot clipped a rock three or four paces in front of him. “With the compliments of Red Cleary,” said Jason, with a hard laugh. “The coward!”