They took another step, several of them--but backward steps. Tom kept them covered for a minute, then moved toward the light, walking backward, his eyes never leaving them. On gaining the door he slipped the revolver into his vest pocket and stepped quickly into the blinding street. When Tom, entering the union hall that evening, passed Jake at his place at the door, the latter scowled fiercely, but the presence of several of Tom's friends, who had been acquainted with the afternoon's encounter, pacified his fists. "Why, what's the matter with your eyes, Jake?" asked Pig Iron Pete sympathetically. Jake consigned Pete to the usual place, and whispered in Tom's ear: "Youse just wait! I'll git youse yet!" That night Tom sat his first time in the president's chair. His situation was painfully grotesque,--instead of being the result of the chances of election, it might well have been an ironic jest of Foley: there was Connelly, two tables away, at his right; Brown, the vice-president, at the table next him; Snyder, the corresponding secretary, at his left; Jake Henderson, sergeant-at-arms, at the door;--every man of them an intimate friend of Foley. And it was not long before Tom felt the farce-tragedy of his position. Shortly after he rapped the meeting to order a man in the rear of the hall became persistently obstreperous. After two censured outbreaks he rose unsteadily amid the discussion upon a motion. "I objec'," he said. "What's your objection?" Tom asked, repressing his wrath. The man swore. "Ain't it 'nough I objec'!" "If the member is out of order again he'll have to leave the hall." Tom guessed this to be a scheme of Foley to annoy him. "Put me out, you----" And the man offered some remarks upon Tom's character. Tom pounded the table with his gavel. "Sergeant-at-arms, put that man out!" Jake, who stood at the door whispering to a man, did not even turn about. "Sergeant-at-arms!" Jake went on with his conversation. "Sergeant-at-arms!" thundered Tom, springing to his feet. Jake looked slowly around. "Put that man out!" Tom ordered. "Can't youse see I'm busy?" said Jake; and turned his broad back. Several of Tom's friends sprang up, but all in the room waited to see what he would do. For a moment he stood motionless, a statue of controlled fury, and for that moment there was stillness in the hall. Then he tossed the gavel upon the table and strode down the center aisle. He seized the offending member, who was in an end seat, one hand on his collar and one on his wrist. The man struck out, but a fierce turn of his wrist brought from him a submissive cry of pain. Tom pushed him, swearing, toward the door. No one offered interference, and his ejection was easy, for he was small and half drunken.