It was a good talk, effectively delivered, and it carried some of the younger men with it, as was shown by the subdued growl which ran around the room. Not so very long before, it would have carried the whole lodge with it, but sentiment had changed. Simpson, who had gone through just such scenes before, never turned a hair. “And I want to say to you,” he said, “that the Grand Lodge is devoted to you, and you know it—deep down in your hearts, you know it. Yes, and I want to add that I think we made a mistake in consenting to this strike, and in my opinion the sooner we call it off the better. As to those fellows at Cincinnati, so far from defending them, the brotherhood has promised to pay, and will pay, a reward of five hundred dollars upon their conviction, and it will pay the same reward for the conviction of the scoundrel who tried to dynamite the bridge at Parkersburg. “As for this man,” he added, pointing to Bassett, “he is no longer a member of the brotherhood and will not be until he is reinstated—and if that ever happens, which I don’t believe, it will certainly be against my advice. As this lodge has further business to transact, I would therefore ask Mr. Bassett to retire.” “Retire yourself!” shouted Bassett, now thoroughly enraged. “If you want me out, you’ll have to put me out, an’ I’d like to see you do it!” “Oh, I’ll do it, if necessary,” retorted Simpson. “But before you go, I want to say one thing to you for all these men to hear. It’s blackguards like you who bring discredit upon the brotherhood and upon unionism generally—blackguards who are always trying to get something they don’t deserve, and to evade something they do deserve. It’s blackguards like you who think the union cause is helped by violence, and who want every strike to be accompanied by violence. Now, apart from any consideration of right or wrong—” “What is this, a sermon?” demanded Bassett, looking around with a raucous laugh—but it found no echo. “Yes,” retorted Simpson; “and a sermon you’ll do well to listen to. Apart from any consideration of right or wrong, nothing hurts our cause like violence—I think we’ve found that out—and the fellow who advocates violence or assists in it is an enemy and not a friend. And I haven’t the slightest doubt,” he added, wheeling upon Bassett, “that it was this fellow here who was responsible for that fire at the stock-yards.” Bassett, his face white and drawn with passion, could only sputter inarticulately for a moment. Then, by a mighty effort, he regained control of himself. “You’re pipin’ a different tune,” he sneered, “from what you did when you first come down here. Why? Have you been seen, like Nixon was? Have you got a wad of railroad money in your pocket?” “Sergeant-at-arms,” called Simpson, “this fellow is not a member of this lodge. Remove him, so that the meeting can proceed.”