But, even if the management had, as Jake claimed, "put one over" on the _Argus_ and its sympathizers, it had also given Ralph a text--an appealing text, too. "How? How?" said Ralph, "could you expect men whose bread and butter depend on day labor and who are told that the only labor to be had in this town where they live and have their families is making munitions of war, to give it up? What can they do?" And Ralph went far at that opportune moment to argue with his Socialist friend, John Starrett. His arguing was not heeded. For Sabinsport the matter was settled--ninety-eight per cent, of the wire workers had decided for going on with the work. Ralph found himself again outwitted. He realized that he must get another line of attack. Zest and a bit of mystery was added to the discussion in the spring of 1915 by an incident which set the town to gossiping, but of which few ever knew all the facts--Dick, and Ralph through him, being among the few. It began by a rumor that Reuben Cowder had thrown a man out of his office! There was a suspicion that Otto Littman was the man, but _that_ few believed--"It couldn't be!" Something had happened, however, and Cowder went about for days in one of the black moods which men knew only too well. He held a long conference with Rupert Littman, Otto went to New York for a time. It was said that there had been trouble over a munition contract. One evening shortly after the rumor started, Dick was startled by a call from Cowder, the first he had ever received. That the man was deeply stirred was clear. "I've got to talk to somebody, Ingraham, and there's nobody in this town but you I'd trust. It's against my habit to talk, you know that, and maybe I'm a fool to do it; but there's something going on in Sabinsport I don't like. I can't get my fingers on it. Maybe I'm suspicious--maybe I ain't fair. Rupert Littman says I'm not, and he's an honest man and as good an American as I am. I'm not neutral. I don't pretend to be, though I don't talk much. You know we've begun to run around the Point. Turned out our first shells last week--good clean job. Inspector said he'd seen none better. "Well, you know Otto holds quite a block of stock in the plant. I was surprised when he took it, but thought it was a good idea, and his father was tickled to death--told everybody he saw how Otto was going to settle down here now--had found out where his country was at last. Otto always seemed to take a lot of interest in the plant, got me two or three of the best workmen I ever saw and a wonder for the laboratory. Of course he knew where I got the contract--England. Of course he ought to have known I'd see the whole damned thing in the river before I'd sell a pound to Germany. He knows my girl's in Serbia.