Mr. Morrison appeared before him. "Howdy, Bennie! Taking a nap?" "I'm taking nothing but what's my own." Bennie looked meaningly at Morrison. Morrison slipped into what he mistook for Bennie's mood. "You're wise, if you get it all. Many's the ignorant devil that takes only what's given him and asks no questions, worse luck to him!" "You'll do well to go on," remarked Bennie, placidly. "There's many that gets more, and then damns the gift and the giver." "And just what might that mean, Bennie?" Morrison looked a little puzzled. "It means that, if more got what they deserved, 'twould be better for honest men." Bennie was very decided. Morrison's face cleared. He held out his hand. "Shake!" he said. Bennie took the proffered hand. "Here's hoping you'll come to your own!" he remarked, grimly. The clasped hands each fell to its own. Morrison's hands went to his pocket as he stretched out his crossed legs with a thankful look on his face. "I'm not specially troubled about myself. I've had fairly good luck looking out for Patrick Morrison, Esq. It's these poor devils around here that's troubling me. They get nipped and pinched at every turn of the cards." "It's God's truth you're talking. And you want to help them same poor devils?" "That's what." "Then listen to me. Smash your roulette and faro. Burn down the Blue Goose, first taking out your whisky that'll burn only the throats of the fools who drink it. Do that same, and you'll see fat grow on lean bones, and children's pants come out of the shade of the patches." Morrison lifted his hat, scratching his head meditatively. "That isn't exactly what I'm at." "Eagles to snowbirds 'tis not!" put in Bennie, aside. Morrison gave no heed to the interruption. "Every man has the right to spend his own money in his own way." "The poor devils get the money and the Blue Goose furnishes the way," Bennie again interpolated. Morrison was getting uneasy. He was conscious that he was not making headway. "You can't do but one thing at a time in good shape." "You're a damned liar! At the Blue Goose you're doing everyone all the time." Morrison rose impatiently. The nickel bullets were missing their billet. He began tentatively to unfold the peacock's tail. "You see," he said, "it's like this. In union is strength. What makes the rich richer? Because they hang together like swarming bees. You pick the honey of one and you get the stings of all. Learn from the rich to use the rich man's weapons. Let us poor workingmen band together like brothers in a common cause. Meet union with union, strength with strength. Then, and only then, can we get our own." "It took more than one cat to make strings for that fiddle," Bennie remarked, thoughtfully. "Just what might that mean?" Morrison again looked puzzled. He went back to his bullets.