fellows were in very truth a dangerous gang of murderers, whose minds
had suffered such complete moral perversion that they took a horrible
pride in their proficiency at the business, and looked with deepest
respect at the man who had the reputation of making what they called
"a clean job."
To their contorted natures it had become a spirited and chivalrous
thing to volunteer for service against some man who had never injured
them, and whom in many cases they had never seen in their lives. The
crime committed, they quarrelled as to who had actually struck the
fatal blow, and amused one another and the company by describing the
cries and contortions of the murdered man.
At first they had shown some secrecy in their arrangements; but at
the time which this narrative describes their proceedings were
extraordinarily open, for the repeated failures of the law had proved
to them that, on the one hand, no one would dare to witness against
them, and on the other they had an unlimited number of stanch
witnesses upon whom they could call, and a well-filled treasure chest
from which they could draw the funds to engage the best legal talent
in the state. In ten long years of outrage there had been no single
conviction, and the only danger that ever threatened the Scowrers lay
in the victim himself--who, however outnumbered and taken by
surprise, might and occasionally did leave his mark upon his
assailants.
McMurdo had been warned that some ordeal lay before him; but no one
would tell him in what it consisted. He was led now into an outer
room by two solemn brothers. Through the plank partition he could
hear the murmur of many voices from the assembly within. Once or
twice he caught the sound of his own name, and he knew that they were
discussing his candidacy. Then there entered an inner guard with a
green and gold sash across his chest.
"The Bodymaster orders that he shall be trussed, blinded, and
entered," said he.
The three of them removed his coat, turned up the sleeve of his right
arm, and finally passed a rope round above the elbows and made it
fast. They next placed a thick black cap right over his head and the
upper part of his face, so that he could see nothing. He was then led
into the assembly hall.
It was pitch dark and very oppressive under his hood. He heard the
rustle and murmur of the people round him, and then the voice of
McGinty sounded dull and distant through the covering of his ears.
"John McMurdo," said the voice, "are you already a member of the
Ancient Order of Freemen?"
He bowed in assent.
"Is your lodge No. 29, Chicago?"
He bowed again.
"Dark nights are unpleasant," said the voice.
"Yes, for strangers to travel," he answered.
"The clouds are heavy."
"Yes, a storm is approaching."
"Are the brethren satisfied?" asked the Bodymaster.
There was a general murmur of assent.
"We know, Brother, by your sign and by your countersign that you are
indeed one of us," said McGinty. "We would have you know, however,
that in this county and in other counties of these parts we have
certain rites, and also certain duties of our own which call for good
men. Are you ready to be tested?"
"I am."
"Are you of stout heart?"
"I am."
"Take a stride forward to prove it."
As the words were said he felt two hard points in front of his eyes,
pressing upon them so that it appeared as if he could not move
forward without a danger of losing them. None the less, he nerved
himself to step resolutely out, and as he did so the pressure melted
away. There was a low murmur of applause.
"He is of stout heart," said the voice. "Can you bear pain?"
"As well as another," he answered.
"Test him!"
It was all he could do to keep himself from screaming out, for an
agonizing pain shot through his forearm. He nearly fainted at the
sudden shock of it; but he bit his lip and clenched his hands to hide
his agony.
"I can take more than that," said he.
This time there was loud applause. A finer first appearance had never
been made in the lodge. Hands clapped him on the back, and the hood
was plucked from his head. He stood blinking and smiling amid the
congratulations of the brothers.
"One last word, Brother McMurdo," said McGinty. "You have already
sworn the oath of secrecy and fidelity, and you are aware that the
punishment for any breach of it is instant and inevitable death?"
"I am," said McMurdo.
"And you accept the rule of the Bodymaster for the time being under
all circumstances?"
"I do."
"Then in the name of Lodge 341, Vermissa, I welcome you to its
privileges and debates. You will put the liquor on the table, Brother
Scanlan, and we will drink to our worthy brother."
McMurdo's coat had been brought to him; but before putting it on he
examined his right arm, which still smarted heavily. There on the
flesh of the forearm was a circle with a triangle within it, deep and
red, as the branding iron had left it. One or two of his neighbours
pulled up their sleeves and showed their own lodge marks.
"We've all had it," said one; "but not all as brave as you over it."
"Tut! It was nothing," said he; but it burned and ached all the same.
When the drinks which followed the ceremony of initiation had all
been disposed of, the business of the lodge proceeded. McMurdo,
accustomed only to the prosaic performances of Chicago, listened with
open ears and more surprise than he ventured to show to what
followed.
"The first business on the agenda paper," said McGinty, "is to read
the following letter from Division Master Windle of Merton County
Lodge 249. He says:
"Dear Sir:
"There is a job to be done on Andrew Rae of Rae & Sturmash, coal
owners near this place. You will remember that your lodge owes us a
return, having had the service of two brethren in the matter of the
patrolman last fall. You will send two good men, they will be taken
charge of by Treasurer Higgins of this lodge, whose address you know.
He will show them when to act and where. Yours in freedom,
"J. W. Windle D. M. A. O. F.
"Windle has never refused us when we have had occasion to ask for the
loan of a man or two, and it is not for us to refuse him." McGinty
paused and looked round the room with his dull, malevolent eyes. "Who
will volunteer for the job?"
Several young fellows held up their hands. The Bodymaster looked at
them with an approving smile.
"You'll do, Tiger Cormac. If you handle it as well as you did the
last, you won't be wrong. And you, Wilson."
"I've no pistol," said the volunteer, a mere boy in his teens.
"It's your first, is it not? Well, you have to be blooded some time.
It will be a great start for you. As to the pistol, you'll find it
waiting for you, or I'm mistaken. If you report yourselves on Monday,
it will be time enough. You'll get a great welcome when you return."
"Any reward this time?" asked Cormac, a thick-set, dark-faced,
brutal-looking young man, whose ferocity had earned him the nickname
of "Tiger."
"Never mind the reward. You just do it for the honour of the thing.
Maybe when it is done there will be a few odd dollars at the bottom
of the box."
"What has the man done?" asked young Wilson.
"Sure, it's not for the likes of you to ask what the man has done. He
has been judged over there. That's no business of ours. All we have
to do is to carry it out for them, same as they would for us.
Speaking of that, two brothers from the Merton lodge are coming over
to us next week to do some business in this quarter."
"Who are they?" asked someone.
"Faith, it is wiser not to ask. If you know nothing, you can testify
nothing, and no trouble can come of it. But they are men who will
make a clean job when they are about it."
"And time, too!" cried Ted Baldwin. "Folk are gettin' out of hand in
these parts. It was only last week that three of our men were turned
off by Foreman Blaker. It's been owing him a long time, and he'll get
it full and proper."
"Get what?" McMurdo whispered to his neighbour.
"The business end of a buckshot cartridge!" cried the man with a loud
laugh. "What think you of our ways, Brother?"
McMurdo's criminal soul seemed to have already absorbed the spirit of
the vile association of which he was now a member. "I like it well,"
said he. "'Tis a proper place for a lad of mettle."
Several of those who sat around heard his words and applauded them.
"What's that?" cried the black-maned Bodymaster from the end of the
table.
"'Tis our new brother, sir, who finds our ways to his taste."
McMurdo rose to his feet for an instant. "I would say, Eminent
Bodymaster, that if a man should be wanted I should take it as an
honour to be chosen to help the lodge."
There was great applause at this. It was felt that a new sun was
pushing its rim above the horizon. To some of the elders it seemed
that the progress was a little too rapid.
"I would move," said the secretary, Harraway, a vulture-faced old
graybeard who sat near the chairman, "that Brother McMurdo should
wait until it is the good pleasure of the lodge to employ him."
"Sure, that was what I meant; I'm in your hands," said McMurdo.
"Your time will come, Brother," said the chairman. "We have marked
you down as a willing man, and we believe that you will do good work
in these parts. There is a small matter to-night in which you may
take a hand if it so please you."
"I will wait for something that is worth while."
"You can come to-night, anyhow, and it will help you to know what we
stand for in this community. I will make the announcement later.
Meanwhile," he glanced at his agenda paper, "I have one or two more
points to bring before the meeting. First of all, I will ask the
treasurer as to our bank balance. There is the pension to Jim
Carnaway's widow. He was struck down doing the work of the lodge, and
it is for us to see that she is not the loser."
"Jim was shot last month when they tried to kill Chester Wilcox of
Marley Creek," McMurdo's neighbour informed him.
"The funds are good at the moment," said the treasurer, with the
bankbook in front of him. "The firms have been generous of late. Max
Linder & Co. paid five hundred to be left alone. Walker Brothers sent
in a hundred; but I took it on myself to return it and ask for five.
If I do not hear by Wednesday, their winding gear may get out of
order. We had to burn their breaker last year before they became
reasonable. Then the West Section Coaling Company has paid its annual
contribution. We have enough on hand to meet any obligations."
"What about Archie Swindon?" asked a brother.
"He has sold out and left the district. The old devil left a note for
us to say that he had rather be a free crossing sweeper in New York
than a large mine owner under the power of a ring of blackmailers. By
Gar! it was as well that he made a break for it before the note
reached us! I guess he won't show his face in this valley again."
An elderly, clean-shaved man with a kindly face and a good brow rose
from the end of the table which faced the chairman. "Mr. Treasurer,"
he asked, "may I ask who has bought the property of this man that we
have driven out of the district?"
"Yes, Brother Morris. It has been bought by the State & Merton County
Railroad Company."
"And who bought the mines of Todman and of Lee that came into the
market in the same way last year?"
"The same company, Brother Morris."
"And who bought the ironworks of Manson and of Shuman and of Van
Deher and of Atwood, which have all been given up of late?"
"They were all bought by the West Gilmerton General Mining Company."
"I don't see, Brother Morris," said the chairman, "that it matters to
us who buys them, since they can't carry them out of the district."
"With all respect to you, Eminent Bodymaster, I think it may matter
very much to us. This process has been going on now for ten long
years. We are gradually driving all the small men out of trade. What
is the result? We find in their places great companies like the
Railroad or the General Iron, who have their directors in New York or
Philadelphia, and care nothing for our threats. We can take it out of
their local bosses, but it only means that others will be sent in
their stead. And we are making it dangerous for ourselves. The small
men could not harm us. They had not the money nor the power. So long
