“All right, I _will_ tell you!” yelled Bassett, his self-control suddenly slipping from him. “Though I won’t be tellin’ you no news, for all your standin’ there lookin’ so goody-good. It’s sneaks like you an’ Jim Adams, what want t’ go crawlin’ back lickin’ the boots of the railroad, that disgusts me with the brotherhood.” “Sneak yourself!” cried Adams, jumping to his feet and starting for Bassett, but two of his friends seized him and held him back. “Let him come on!” shouted Bassett, fairly purple. “I’ll fix him this time—I’ve been wantin’ to fer years. Let him come on!” But Adams was pulled panting back into his chair. “Did you hear what he said?” he demanded of those about him. “Did you hear what he said? He as good as admitted he tried to do fer me that night at Jones Run bridge!” But they weren’t listening to him; they were listening to Bassett, who, fairly livid with rage, had turned back to Simpson. “Yes,” he shouted, “goody-goody sneaks like you an’ Adams—standin’ there lettin’ on you don’t know who it was put them poor devils up to firin’ the stock-yards!” “I’ve already asked you to tell me,” repeated Simpson, quietly. “It was two members of this lodge!” yelled Bassett, quite beside himself. “It was two members of this lodge what give the whiskey an’ the cash, an’ they knowed what they was doin’, too!” The place was in an uproar; angry voices demanded the names of the offending members, denials were shouted across the room, fists were shaken; but the chairman finally succeeded in beating down the din until Simpson’s voice could be heard again. His face was flushed and there was a dangerous light in his eyes as he turned to Bassett, who had subsided into his seat again. “Mr. Bassett,” he began, “you have said too much not to say more. I demand the names of those two men.” But Bassett had already said more than he had intended to say, and heartily regretted his hasty tongue. “I ain’t no tale-bearer,” he protested. “I know what I know; but it don’t go no furder.” “You refuse to tell?” “Yes, I do.” “Then,” said Simpson, firmly, “by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Grand Lodge, I suspend you from membership in the brotherhood until a hearing of this case can be had.” “What!” yelled Bassett, on his feet again, his face purple. “Suspend me! Why, you—you snake! Boys,” he shouted, “do you stand fer this?” It’s Nixon over ag’in! Oh, they’re all rotten! I tell you those fellers layin’ in jail down at Cincinnati ought t’ be looked after by the brotherhood—I tell you why—I speak as a man to men—I don’t believe in lettin’ some corporation-owned Hamilton County judge railroad them to the pen. It ain’t right, an’ every man of you knows it ain’t right. But I ain’t no informer—I won’t say nothin’ more—an’ because I won’t, this here whipper-snapper from headquarters says he’ll suspend me. Boys, I tell you the Grand Lodge is rotten through an’ through. It’s owned by the railroads. It’s time we turned the scoundrels out!”