The hall exploded in angry thunder. The first wave of men rushed onto the stage as Walter stood up. A tomato whizzed past his ear and splattered against the wall. More men clambered up on the stage, shouting and shaking their fists. Then somebody appeared with a rope. Walter gave a sharp nod to the side of the stage. Abruptly the roar of the men was drowned in another sound--a soul-rending, teeth-grating, bone-rattling screech. The men froze, jaws sagging, eyes wide, hardly believing their ears. In the instant of silence as the factory whistle died away, Walter grabbed the microphone. "You want the code word to start the machines again? I'll give it to you before I sit down!" The men stared at him, shuffling, a murmur rising. Torkleson burst to his feet. "It's a trick!" he howled. "Wait 'til you hear their price." "We have no price, and no demands," said Walter Towne. "We will _give_ you the code word, and we ask nothing in return but that you listen for sixty seconds." He glanced back at Torkleson, and then out to the crowd. "You men here are an electing body--right? You own this great plant and company, top to bottom--right? _You should all be rich_, because Robling could make you rich. But not one of you out there is rich. Only the fat ones on this stage are. But I'll tell you how _you_ can be rich." They listened. Not a peep came from the huge hall. Suddenly, Walter Towne was talking their language. "You think that since you own the company, times have changed. Well, have they? Are you any better off than you were? Of course not. Because you haven't learned yet that oppression by either side leads to misery for both. You haven't learned moderation. And you never will, until you throw out the ones who have fought moderation right down to the last ditch. You know whom I mean. You know who's grown richer and richer since the switchover. Throw him out, and you too can be rich." He paused for a deep breath. "You want the code word to unlock the machines? All right, I'll give it to you." He swung around to point a long finger at the fat man sitting there. "The code word is TORKLESON!" * * * * * Much later, Walter Towne and Jeff Bates pried the trophies off the wall of the big office. The lawyer shook his head sadly. "Pity about Dan Torkleson. Gruesome affair." Walter nodded as he struggled down with a moose head. "Yes, a pity, but you know the boys when they get upset." "I suppose so." The lawyer stopped to rest, panting. "Anyway, with the newly elected board of directors, things will be different for everybody. You took a long gamble." "Not so long. Not when you knew what they wanted to hear. It just took a little timing." "Still, I didn't think they'd elect you secretary of the union. It just doesn't figure."