The workers grew restive. From the first day, Towne and Hendricks and all the others had been picketing the plant, until angry crowds of workers had driven them off with shotguns. Then they came back in an old, weatherbeaten 'copter which hovered over the plant entrance carrying a banner with a plaintive message: ROBLING TITANIUM UNFAIR TO MANAGEMENT. Tomatoes were hurled, fists were shaken, but the 'copter remained. The third day, Jeff Bates was served with an injunction ordering Towne to return to work. It was duly appealed, legal machinery began tying itself in knots, and the strikers still struck. By the fifth day there was a more serious note. "You're going to have to appear, Walter. We can't dodge this one." "When?" "Tomorrow morning. And before a labor-rigged judge, too." The little lawyer paced his office nervously. "I don't like it. Torkleson's getting desperate. The workers are putting pressure on him." Walter grinned. "Then Pendleton is doing a good job of selling." "But you haven't got _time_," the lawyer wailed. "They'll have you in jail if you don't start the machines again. They may have you in jail if you _do_ start them, too, but that's another bridge. Right now they want those machines going again." "We'll see," said Walter. "What time tomorrow?" "Ten o'clock." Bates looked up. "And don't try to skip. You be there, because _I_ don't know what to tell them." Walter was there a half hour early. Torkleson's legal staff glowered from across the room. The judge glowered from the bench. Walter closed his eyes with a little smile as the charges were read: "--breach of contract, malicious mischief, sabotage of the company's machines, conspiring to destroy the livelihood of ten thousand workers. Your Honor, we are preparing briefs to prove further that these men have formed a conspiracy to undermine the economy of the entire nation. We appeal to the spirit of orderly justice--" Walter yawned as the words went on. "Of course, if the defendant will waive his appeals against the previous injunctions, and will release the machines that were sabotaged, we will be happy to formally withdraw these charges." There was a rustle of sound through the courtroom. His Honor turned to Jeff Bates. "Are you counsel for the defendant?" "Yes, sir." Bates mopped his bald scalp. "The defendant pleads guilty to all counts." The union lawyer dropped his glasses on the table with a crash. The judge stared. "Mr. Bates, if you plead guilty, you leave me no alternative--" "--but to send me to jail," said Walter Towne. "Go ahead. Send me to jail. In fact, I _insist_ upon going to jail." The union lawyer's jaw sagged. There was a hurried conference. A recess was pleaded. Telephones buzzed. Then: "Your Honor, the plaintiff desires to withdraw all charges at this time." "Objection," Bates exclaimed. "We've already pleaded." "--feel sure that a settlement can be effected out of court--" The case was thrown out on its ear.