“You don't know anything about it, and I don't want you should talk, but there are new things coming to Bidwell,” he added. “When I was in Chicago last month I met a man who has been making rubber buggy and bicycle tires. I'm going in with him and we're going to start a plant for making automobile-tires right in Bidwell. The tire business is bound to be one of the greatest on earth and they ain't no reason why Bidwell shouldn't be the biggest tire center ever known in the world.” Although the car now ran quietly, Tom's voice again became shrill. “There'll be hundreds of thousands of cars like this tearing over every road in America,” he declared. “Yes, sir, they will; and if I calculate right Bidwell'll be the great tire town of the world.” For a long time Tom drove in silence, and when he again began to talk it was a new mood. He told a tale of life in Bidwell that stirred both Hugh and Clara deeply. He was angry and had Clara not been in the car would have become violently profane. “I'd like to hang the men who are making trouble in the shops in town,” he broke forth. “You know who I mean, I mean the labor men who are trying to make trouble for Steve Hunter and me. There's a socialist talking every night on the street over there. I'll tell you, Hugh, the laws of this country are wrong.” For ten minutes he talked of the labor difficulties in the shops. “They better look out,” he declared, and was so angry that his voice rose to something like a suppressed scream. “We're inventing new machines pretty fast now-days,” he cried. “Pretty soon we'll do all the work by machines. Then what'll we do? We'll kick all the workers out and let 'em strike till they're sick, that's what we'll do. They can talk their fool socialism all they want, but we'll show 'em, the fools.” His angry mood passed, and as the car turned into the last fifteen-mile stretch of road that led to Bidwell, he told the tale that so deeply stirred his passengers. Chuckling softly he told of the struggle of the Bidwell harness maker, Joe Wainsworth, to prevent the sale of machine-made harness in the community, and of his experience with his employee, Jim Gibson. Tom had heard the tale in the bar-room of the Bidwell House and it had made a profound impression on his mind. “I'll tell you what,” he declared, “I'm going to get in touch with Jim Gibson. That's the kind of man to handle workers. I only heard about him to-night, but I'm going to see him to-morrow.”