"When?" queried the general manager, casting a quick glance at Patsy, who was growing nervous. "'Bout a year ago now." "At what particular place have you lived or lodged since that time?" "In jail." "What were you in jail for?" "Stealing a meal-ticket, this coat and cap from Patsy." "I gave the things to him, sir," said Patsy, "and he was discharged." "Where have you been living since you left the workhouse?" "In the streets and in the fields." "Do you drink?" "No, sir." "Do you mean to tell me that an experienced yardman, strong and intelligent as you appear to be, can sink so low without being a drunkard?" "Yes, sir." "And you have been foreman in the Buffalo yards? What else have you been?" "A Union man, tramp, bum, vag, thief, and a scab." "Huh!" said the general manager, pushing out his lips, "is this your notion of a reliable man, Patsy?" "Yes, sir, I still vouch for him." The general manager looked puzzled. "But you could hardly expect me to employ, in a responsible position, a self-confessed criminal?" "And yet," said the Philosopher, "if I had lied to you I might have gained a good place, but having told the truth I suppose I must go." The general manager, who had left his seat, began to pace the floor. "It may be possible for an honest man to be a tramp--even a vag, but why did you steal?" "For the same reason that I took the place of a striker the other day--because I was hungry," said the Philosopher looking the general manager full in the face. "But what brought you to this condition? that's what I want to know," said the official earnestly. "And if you can explain that, you can have the place, provided you really want to reform." "I'm not so anxious to reform," said the Philosopher. "What I want is a show to earn an honest living, and let the balance of the world reform. But if you want to know what brought me to my present condition I can tell you--this is the instrument." And the man lifted from the manager's desk a slip of paper, full of names, across the top of which was printed "Black List." "It's the blight of the black-list that is upon me, sir, and it gives me pleasure to be able to present to you a sample of the class of citizens you and your associates are turning out," said the Philosopher with much feeling, and he turned to go. "Stay," said Patsy. "Mr. Stonaker, you told me yesterday that if I ever needed your assistance in any way to make my wants known." "And do you still vouch for this man?" "I do." "Very well, then--he can have the place!" CHAPTER NINTH Mr. Hawkins had been in his new lodgings nearly a week and had frequently discussed the strike with the great labor leader, when he made bold one evening to state that he had no use for the Brotherhood and that he had it from inside sources that a number of the old engineers were going to return to work, and that the strike would soon be a thing of the past, as would the comfortable jobs that the strikers had left.