Love stories; Miners -- Fiction; Mines and mineral resources -- Colorado -- Fiction; Strikes and lockouts -- Fiction
Poor Madame! Poor Pierre! The dog chases his tail with undiminished
zest, and is blissfully rewarded if a straggling hair but occasionally
brushes his nose. He licks his accessible paws, impelled alone by a
sense of duty.
CHAPTER VII
_Mr. Morrison Tackles a Man with a Mind of His Own and a Man without
One_
Mr. Morrison was a slick bird--in fact, a very slick bird. It was his
soul's delight to preen his unctuous feathers and to shiver them into
the most effective and comfortable position, to settle his head between
his shoulders, and, with moistened lips, to view his little world from
dreamy, half-closed eyes. This, however, only happened in restful
moments of complacent self-contemplation. He never allowed these moods
to interfere with business. He had broached the subject of marriage to
Pierre, and Pierre had of course fallen in with his views. The fact that
Élise evidently loathed him disturbed no whit his placid mind. He was in
no hurry. He assumed Élise as his own whenever he chose to say the word.
He regarded her in much the same way as a half-hungered epicure a
toothsome dinner, holding himself aloof until his craving stomach should
give the utmost zest to his viands without curtailing the pleasure of
his palate by ravenous haste. He served Pierre with diligence and
fidelity. The Blue Goose would sooner or later come to him with Élise.
He had ambitions, political especially, not acquired, but instinctive.
Not that he felt inspired with a mission to do good unto others, but
that others should do good unto him, and also that the particular kind
of good should be of his own choosing. He knew very well the
temperaments of his chosen constituency, and he adapted himself to their
impressionable peculiarities. To this end he dispensed heavily padded
gratuities with much ostentation on selected occasions, but gathered his
tolls in merciless silence. He did this without fear, for he knew that
the blare of the multitude would drown the cries of the stricken few.
Mr. Morrison had long meditated upon the proper course to take in order
best to compass his ends. The unrest among the employees of the Rainbow
Company came to him unsought, and he at once grasped the opportunity.
The organisation of a miners' and millmen's union would be an obvious
benefit to the rank and file; their manifestation of gratitude would
naturally take the very form he most desired. To this end before the
many he displayed the pyrotechnics of meaningless oratory, in much the
same manner as a strutting peacock his brilliant tail; but individuals
he hunted with nickel bullets and high-power guns. On various occasions
he had displayed the peacock tail; this particular afternoon he took
down his flat-trajectoried weapon and went forth to gun for Bennie.
Bennie had washed the dinner dishes, reset his table, prepared for the
coming meal, and now, as was his custom, was lying in his bunk, with an
open book in his hands, prepared to read or doze, as the spirit moved
him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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