as we did not squeeze them too dry, they would stay on under our
power. But if these big companies find that we stand between them and
their profits, they will spare no pains and no expense to hunt us
down and bring us to court."
There was a hush at these ominous words, and every face darkened as
gloomy looks were exchanged. So omnipotent and unchallenged had they
been that the very thought that there was possible retribution in the
background had been banished from their minds. And yet the idea
struck a chill to the most reckless of them.
"It is my advice," the speaker continued, "that we go easier upon the
small men. On the day that they have all been driven out the power of
this society will have been broken."
Unwelcome truths are not popular. There were angry cries as the
speaker resumed his seat. McGinty rose with gloom upon his brow.
"Brother Morris," said he, "you were always a croaker. So long as the
members of this lodge stand together there is no power in the United
States that can touch them. Sure, have we not tried it often enough
in the law courts? I expect the big companies will find it easier to
pay than to fight, same as the little companies do. And now,
Brethren," McGinty took off his black velvet cap and his stole as he
spoke, "this lodge has finished its business for the evening, save
for one small matter which may be mentioned when we are parting. The
time has now come for fraternal refreshment and for harmony."
Strange indeed is human nature. Here were these men, to whom murder
was familiar, who again and again had struck down the father of the
family, some man against whom they had no personal feeling, without
one thought of compunction or of compassion for his weeping wife or
helpless children, and yet the tender or pathetic in music could move
them to tears. McMurdo had a fine tenor voice, and if he had failed
to gain the good will of the lodge before, it could no longer have
been withheld after he had thrilled them with "I'm Sitting on the
Stile, Mary," and "On the Banks of Allan Water."
In his very first night the new recruit had made himself one of the
most popular of the brethren, marked already for advancement and high
office. There were other qualities needed, however, besides those of
good fellowship, to make a worthy Freeman, and of these he was given
an example before the evening was over. The whisky bottle had passed
round many times, and the men were flushed and ripe for mischief when
their Bodymaster rose once more to address them.
"Boys," said he, "there's one man in this town that wants trimming
up, and it's for you to see that he gets it. I'm speaking of James
Stanger of the Herald. You've seen how he's been opening his mouth
against us again?"
There was a murmur of assent, with many a muttered oath. McGinty took
a slip of paper from his waistcoat pocket.
Law and Order!
That's how he heads it.
"Reign of terror in the coal and iron district
"Twelve years have now elapsed since the first assassinations which
proved the existence of a criminal organization in our midst. From
that day these outrages have never ceased, until now they have
reached a pitch which makes us the opprobrium of the civilized world.
Is it for such results as this that our great country welcomes to its
bosom the alien who flies from the despotisms of Europe? Is it that
they shall themselves become tyrants over the very men who have given
them shelter, and that a state of terrorism and lawlessness should be
established under the very shadow of the sacred folds of the starry
Flag of Freedom which would raise horror in our minds if we read of
it as existing under the most effete monarchy of the East? The men
are known. The organization is patent and public. How long are we to
endure it? Can we forever live--
Sure, I've read enough of the slush!" cried the chairman, tossing the
paper down upon the table. "That's what he says of us. The question
I'm asking you is what shall we say to him?"
"Kill him!" cried a dozen fierce voices.
"I protest against that," said Brother Morris, the man of the good
brow and shaved face. "I tell you, Brethren, that our hand is too
heavy in this valley, and that there will come a point where in
self-defense every man will unite to crush us out. James Stanger is
an old man. He is respected in the township and the district. His
paper stands for all that is solid in the valley. If that man is
struck down, there will be a stir through this state that will only
end with our destruction."
"And how would they bring about our destruction, Mr. Standback?"
cried McGinty. "Is it by the police? Sure, half of them are in our
pay and half of them afraid of us. Or is it by the law courts and the
judge? Haven't we tried that before now, and what ever came of it?"
"There is a Judge Lynch that might try the case," said Brother
Morris.
A general shout of anger greeted the suggestion.
"I have but to raise my finger," cried McGinty, "and I could put two
hundred men into this town that would clear it out from end to end."
Then suddenly raising his voice and bending his huge black brows into
a terrible frown, "See here, Brother Morris, I have my eye on you,
and have had for some time! You've no heart yourself, and you try to
take the heart out of others. It will be an ill day for you, Brother
Morris, when your own name comes on our agenda paper, and I'm
thinking that it's just there that I ought to place it."
Morris had turned deadly pale, and his knees seemed to give way under
him as he fell back into his chair. He raised his glass in his
trembling hand and drank before he could answer. "I apologize,
Eminent Bodymaster, to you and to every brother in this lodge if I
have said more than I should. I am a faithful member--you all know
that--and it is my fear lest evil come to the lodge which makes me
speak in anxious words. But I have greater trust in your judgment
than in my own, Eminent Bodymaster, and I promise you that I will not
offend again."
The Bodymaster's scowl relaxed as he listened to the humble words.
"Very good, Brother Morris. It's myself that would be sorry if it
were needful to give you a lesson. But so long as I am in this chair
we shall be a united lodge in word and in deed. And now, boys," he
continued, looking round at the company, "I'll say this much, that if
Stanger got his full deserts there would be more trouble than we need
ask for. These editors hang together, and every journal in the state
would be crying out for police and troops. But I guess you can give
him a pretty severe warning. Will you fix it, Brother Baldwin?"
"Sure!" said the young man eagerly.
"How many will you take?"
"Half a dozen, and two to guard the door. You'll come, Gower, and
you, Mansel, and you, Scanlan, and the two Willabys."
"I promised the new brother he should go," said the chairman.
Ted Baldwin looked at McMurdo with eyes which showed that he had not
forgotten nor forgiven. "Well, he can come if he wants," he said in a
surly voice. "That's enough. The sooner we get to work the better."
The company broke up with shouts and yells and snatches of drunken
song. The bar was still crowded with revellers, and many of the
brethren remained there. The little band who had been told off for
duty passed out into the street, proceeding in twos and threes along
the sidewalk so as not to provoke attention. It was a bitterly cold
night, with a half-moon shining brilliantly in a frosty,
star-spangled sky. The men stopped and gathered in a yard which faced
a high building. The words "Vermissa Herald" were printed in gold
lettering between the brightly lit windows. From within came the
clanking of the printing press.
"Here, you," said Baldwin to McMurdo, "you can stand below at the
door and see that the road is kept open for us. Arthur Willaby can
stay with you. You others come with me. Have no fears, boys; for we
have a dozen witnesses that we are in the Union Bar at this very
moment."
It was nearly midnight, and the street was deserted save for one or
two revellers upon their way home. The party crossed the road, and,
pushing open the door of the newspaper office, Baldwin and his men
rushed in and up the stair which faced them. McMurdo and another
remained below. From the room above came a shout, a cry for help, and
then the sound of trampling feet and of falling chairs. An instant
later a gray-haired man rushed out on the landing.
He was seized before he could get farther, and his spectacles came
tinkling down to McMurdo's feet. There was a thud and a groan. He was
on his face, and half a dozen sticks were clattering together as they
fell upon him. He writhed, and his long, thin limbs quivered under
the blows. The others ceased at last; but Baldwin, his cruel face set
in an infernal smile, was hacking at the man's head, which he vainly
endeavoured to defend with his arms. His white hair was dabbled with
patches of blood. Baldwin was still stooping over his victim, putting
in a short, vicious blow whenever he could see a part exposed, when
McMurdo dashed up the stair and pushed him back.
"You'll kill the man," said he. "Drop it!"
Baldwin looked at him in amazement. "Curse you!" he cried. "Who are
you to interfere--you that are new to the lodge? Stand back!" He
raised his stick; but McMurdo had whipped his pistol out of his hip
pocket.
"Stand back yourself!" he cried. "I'll blow your face in if you lay a
hand on me. As to the lodge, wasn't it the order of the Bodymaster
that the man was not to be killed--and what are you doing but killing
him?"
"It's truth he says," remarked one of the men.
"By Gar! you'd best hurry yourselves!" cried the man below. "The
windows are all lighting up, and you'll have the whole town here
inside of five minutes."
There was indeed the sound of shouting in the street, and a little
group of compositors and pressmen was forming in the hall below and
nerving itself to action. Leaving the limp and motionless body of the
editor at the head of the stair, the criminals rushed down and made
their way swiftly along the street. Having reached the Union House,
some of them mixed with the crowd in McGinty's saloon, whispering
across the bar to the Boss that the job had been well carried
through. Others, and among them McMurdo, broke away into side
streets, and so by devious paths to their own homes.
CHAPTER IV
The Valley of Fear
When McMurdo awoke next morning he had good reason to remember his
initiation into the lodge. His head ached with the effect of the
drink, and his arm, where he had been branded, was hot and swollen.
Having his own peculiar source of income, he was irregular in his
attendance at his work; so he had a late breakfast, and remained at
home for the morning writing a long letter to a friend. Afterwards he
read the Daily Herald. In a special column put in at the last moment
he read:
Outrage at the herald office -- Editor seriously injured
It was a short account of the facts with which he was himself more
familiar than the writer could have been. It ended with the
statement:
The matter is now in the hands of the police; but it can hardly be
hoped that their exertions will be attended by any better results
than in the past. Some of the men were recognized, and there is hope
that a conviction may be obtained. The source of the outrage was, it
need hardly be said, that infamous society which has held this
community in bondage for so long a period, and against which the
Herald has taken so uncompromising a stand. Mr. Stanger's many
friends will rejoice to hear that, though he has been cruelly and
brutally beaten, and though he has sustained severe injuries about
the head, there is no immediate danger to his life.
Below it stated that a guard of police, armed with Winchester rifles,
had been requisitioned for the defense of the office.
McMurdo had laid down the paper, and was lighting his pipe with a
hand which was shaky from the excesses of the previous evening, when
there was a knock outside, and his landlady brought to him a note
which had just been handed in by a lad. It was unsigned, and ran
thus:
I should wish to speak to you, but would rather not do so in your
house. You will find me beside the flagstaff upon Miller Hill. If you
will come there now, I have something which it is important for you
to hear and for me to say.
McMurdo read the note twice with the utmost surprise; for he could
not imagine what it meant or who was the author of it. Had it been in
a feminine hand, he might have imagined that it was the beginning of
