“I vill not mit you aggra--arra--_do it_--hang dot vord!” Dutchy asserted decisively, but again opening the door. “But mit Mister Brett I vill do it.” “But Mr. Brett isn’t here, you know that,” retorted MacDonald, beginning to get exasperated. “And, what’s more, he won’t be back until the day after tomorrow. I guess you know that, too, don’t you?” Dutchy smiled a patient, chiding smile. “Dot iss too bad,” he remarked regretfully. “But dot Thornley a pig iss, und you--oh, py golly! you--I could not you pelief. Ve vill vait for Mister Brett.” He was closing the door again, when MacDonald put his foot against the jamb and, leaning toward Dutchy, said quickly, in an undertone: “Look here, Dutchy, you’re going too far. If I couldn’t see any farther than you, I’d wear glasses. Now’s the time to make your deal. I’ll help you--see? You can get anything out of the boys now, but you push them too far and they’ll pull the whole outfit down over your ears. You say what you want, and I’ll get it for you.” Dutchy looked meditatively into MacDonald’s face, and shook his head with a sad smile of wisdom. “I could not you pelief,” he repeated. “You don’t have to. You don’t have to believe anybody. Whatever you want us to do we’ll do before you let us in to eat. You can’t lose. What do you say?” Mr. Damrosch scratched his head pensively, without taking his eyes off the dispatcher. After a minute he tapped MacDonald on the shoulder. “Veil,” he announced, “I vill tell you. Listen.” MacDonald listened--incredulously. Then he whistled a low, long-drawn-out note of consternation. “Well, you’ve got a nerve!” he gasped. “What do you think, eh? The boys’ll never--” He stopped suddenly, a smile came over his face, and he chuckled softly to himself. “Dutchy, you’re great! It’ll be meat for the boys to make Thornley stand for it. That’s what you want to do--make Thornley stand for it. Will the boys make him? Oh, will they! Give them the chance. That’s the way to handle it. I told you I’d help you. Now, make your _spiel_” MacDonald turned to the group on the platform. “Dutchy’ll arbitrate!” he cried. At this the men began to push forward, but Dutchy stopped them. “Vait as you iss! Ven der--der--hang dot word--iss, den iss it. Vait!” They waited, and Dutchy began to count on his fingers. “Dere iss sixteen dot breakfasted didn’d,” he began. “Dot--iss--iss--” “Average ‘em up at a quarter apiece,” prompted MacDonald in a whisper. “That makes four dollars.” “Iss four dollars--yess,” went on Dutchy. “Veil, I vant dot. Dere iss der crews dot in-came und out-vent und didn’d eat ven der door vas closed. Dot iss two dollars--yess? Veil, I vant dot.” The men came to, and a roar of derision rent the air, in the face of which even Dutchy was a little shaken. “Stand pat,” encouraged MacDonald. “You’ve got them coming and going.”