"I haven’t another word to say," Forbes was declaring. A hint of relief came to his voice when he saw Luke. "Oh, Huber," he broke off: "Good-morning. Come over here and sit down. I am just telling these men for the last time that we will meet them in the matter of hours, but we can’t and won’t grant them the ruinous increase of wages they want." As Luke took a chair beside him, he continued, addressing his employees and carefully avoiding the organizer: "I have one gang of men coming here in half an hour to take your jobs. There are more where they came from, and we’ll be running full blast this time to-morrow. If you’re not back at work by the time the first gang of men gets here, you’ll never get back." Luke expected a growl of anger: there was no sound from them. The organizer coughed. "Mr. Forbes——" he began. Forbes smacked his hands together. "I don’t know you!" he snapped. "You know who I am," said the organizer calmly. "I told you." "I don’t recognize your right to be here." "I haven’t any right, because it’s against the principles of our organization to treat with employers, but I thought——" Raging, Forbes stood up. "Against _your_ principles, is it?" he cried. "Well, it’s against the principles of this firm to talk to _you_!" "Mr. Forbes——" "That’s all I’ve got to say." The organizer was unruffled. He maintained a rather terrifying dignity. He turned to the men. "Come on, fellows," he said. With a loud scraping of feet, the strikers and their leader passed out of the room. Luke and Forbes remained quiet. Even for some time after the room was empty, they said nothing, and while they sat thus, a boyish voice rose from the street: "Oh, I love my boss: He’s a good friend o’ mine; An’ that’s why I’m starving Out in the bread-line!" Somebody laughed, and several voices took up the chorus: "_Hall_eyloolyah, I’m a bum—bum!..." The boyish voice continued: "Oh, why don’t you work Like other men do? _How in Hell can I work_ _When there’s no work to do?_" "That’s their logic," said Forbes fretfully. He nodded toward the street. "How can you argue with people of that sort?" "It didn’t strike me that you were arguing," said Luke. "What are you going to do?" "What I said." "You meant it, then?" "Every word. I’ve taken your advice, after all: I’ve employed that strike-breaker: Breil, you know." Luke had heard of him. Breil, he knew, owned several hundred fighting-men and took them to all parts of the country under the pretense that they were workers anxious to start the wheels of industries stopped by strikers. Wherever Breil went, trouble followed. "Then you’d better employ the Pinkertons, too," said Luke.