The marshal was goaded to speech. “We don’t pay in scrip.” “But you do, man! You know you do!” “We give it when they ask their money ahead.” “The law requires you to pay them twice a month, and you don’t do it. You pay them once a month, and meantime, if they need money, you give them this imitation money!” “Well, if it satisfies them, where’s your kick?” “If it doesn’t satisfy them, you put them on the train and ship them out?” The marshal sat in silence, tapping impatiently with his fingers on the desk. “Cotton,” Hal began, again, “I’m out for education, and there’s something I’d like you to explain to me--a problem in human psychology. When a man puts through a deal like this, what does he tell himself about it?” “Young man,” said the marshal, “if you’ll pardon me, you are getting to be a bore.” “Oh, but we’ve got an automobile ride before us! Surely we can’t sit in silence all the way!” After a moment he added, in a coaxing tone, “I really want to learn, you know. You might be able to win me over.” “No!” said Cotton, promptly. “I’ll not go in for anything like that!” “But why not?” “Because, I’m no match for you in long-windedness. I’ve heard you agitators before, you’re all alike: you think the world is run by talk--but it isn’t.” Hal had come to realise that he was not getting anywhere in his duel with the camp-marshal. He had made every effort to get somewhere; he had argued, threatened, bluffed, he had even sung songs for the marshal! But the marshal was going to ship him out, that was all there was to it. Hal had gone on with the quarrel, simply because he had to wait for the automobile, and because he had endured indignities and had to vent his anger and disappointment. But now he stopped quarrelling suddenly. His attention was caught by the marshal’s words, “You think the world is run by talk!” Those were the words Hal’s brother always used! And also, the marshal had said, “You agitators!” For years it had been one of the taunts Hal had heard from his brother, “You will turn into one of these agitators!” Hal had answered, with boyish obstinacy, “I don’t care if I do!” And now, here the marshal was calling him an agitator, seriously, without an apology, without the license of blood relationship. He repeated the words, “That’s what gets me about you agitators--you come in here trying to stir these people up--”