“Yes,” added another, “an’ when a feller’s built a house an’ is payin’ fer it in the Buildin’ an’ Loan, a strike don’t look good, neither. If a feller can’t make his payments, he loses his house, without any ifs or ands about it.” “Pshaw!” put in the young fellow, easily. “The brotherhood’ll take care of you. You won’t starve nor lose your house, neither.” “Mebbe not. But if I loses my job, a lot o’ good my house’ll do me, won’t it?” “Lose yer job? How kin you do that?” “Easy enough. I’ve seen—” But a sudden shout from the door interrupted him. “Here’s Nixon! Here’s Nixon!” And the great man was half-pushed, half-carried forward to the platform at the end of the room. He smiled about to those on the right and left of him, and finally mounted the platform and deliberately removed overcoat and hat. A close observer might have seen that he was very nervous, but he held himself well in hand. The truth is, Nixon had not anticipated so large an outpouring nor such intense interest in the case and in consequence, found the task confronting him considerably more difficult than he had thought it would be. He took out his handkerchief and passed it over his moist moustache, for he had stopped in the saloon on the first floor to take a single “bracer,” then he held up his hand impressively for silence. Nixon believed in doing a thing dramatically. “Well, boys,” he announced, “I’ve seen Schofield.” “What did he say?” shouted one of the men, impatient of Nixon’s deliberate manner. “Now, look here,” yelled Nixon, searching the offender out with threatening forefinger, “I won’t be interrupted—I won’t! If another man does that, I leave—an’ I’ll let y’ wait a week fer a letter from headquarters. You don’t seem t’ realize what it means fer a man like me t’ come down here t’ settle your rows.” “That’s what you’re paid fer,” murmured one of the men, in a far corner, but he lowered his voice carefully. “Schofield an’ I went over the situation from a to izzard,” Nixon continued, when quiet was restored, satisfied that there would be no further interruptions. “He gave me the case from the road’s side, and I gave him the case from our side, and I can’t deny that he had the best of me.” There was a little murmur at this, but Nixon stilled it instantly with raised finger. “The fact of the matter is,” he went on, raising his voice suddenly and glowering at Bassett, who occupied a place in the front line, “this man Bassett was drunk the other night, and every mother’s son of you knows it.” “It’s a lie!” yelled Bassett, white as death, and again there was a murmur, but again Nixon managed to still it. “I’ll answer _you_,” he said, pointing to Bassett, “after this meetin’ adjourns. I ain’t here to argue. I’m here to state facts. This man was drunk an’ insulted his superior officer. The road had a right to fire him on two counts—fer bein’ drunk an’ fer insubordination.”