_The Meeting at the Blue Goose_
An algebraic formula is very fascinating, but at the same time it is
very dangerous. The oft-times repeated assumption that _x_ plus _y_
equals _a_ leads ultimately to the fixed belief that a is an attainable
result, whatever values may be assigned to the other factors. If we
assign concrete dollars to the abstract _x_ and _y_, _a_ theoretically
becomes concrete dollars as well. But immediately we do this, another
factor known as the personal equation calls for cards, and from then on
insists upon sitting in the game. Simple algebra no longer suffices;
calculus, differential as well as integral, enters into our problem, and
if we can succeed in fencing out quaternions, to say nothing of the
_nth_ dimension, we may consider ourselves fortunate.
Pierre was untrained in algebra, to say nothing of higher mathematics;
but it is a legal maxim that ignorance of the law excuses no one, and
this dictum is equally applicable to natural and to human statutes.
Pierre assumed very naturally that five dollars plus five dollars equals
ten dollars, and dollars were what he was after. He went even further.
Without stating the fact, he felt instinctively that, if he could tip
the one-legged plus to the more stable two-legged sign of
multiplication, the result would be twenty-five dollars instead of ten.
He knew that dollars added to, or multiplied by, dollars made wealth;
but he failed to comprehend that wealth was a variable term with no
definite, assignable value. In other words, he never knew, nor ever
would know, when he had enough.
Pierre had started in life with the questionable ambition of becoming
rich. As foreman on a ranch at five dollars a day and found, he was
reasonably contented with simple addition. On the sudden death of his
employer he was left in full charge, with no one to call him to account,
and addition became more frequent and with larger sums. His horizon
widened, the Rainbow mine was opened, and the little town of Pandora
sprang into existence. Three hundred workmen, with unlimited thirst and
a passion for gaming, suggested multiplication, and Pierre moved from
the ranch to the Blue Goose. Had he fixed upon a definition of wealth
and adhered to it, a few years at the Blue Goose would have left him
satisfied. As it was, his ideas grew faster than his legitimate
opportunities. The miners were no more content with their wages than he
with his gains, and so it happened that an underground retort was added
to the above-ground bar and roulette. The bar and roulette had the
sanction of law; the retort was existing in spite of it. The bar and
roulette took care of themselves, and incidentally of Pierre; but with
the retort, the case was different. Pierre had to look out for himself
as well as the furnace. As proprietor of a saloon, his garnered dollars
brought with them the protection of the nine points of the
law--possession; the tenth was never in evidence.
As a vender of gold bullion, with its possession, the nine points made
against rather than for him. As for the tenth, at its best it only
offered an opportunity for explanation which the law affords the most
obviously guilty.
Morrison allowed several days to pass after his interview with Luna
before acquainting Pierre with the failure to land their plunder. The
disclosure might have been delayed even longer had not Pierre made some
indirect inquiries. Pierre had taken the disclosure in a very different
manner from what Morrison had expected. Morrison, as has been set forth,
was a very slick bird, but he was not remarkable for his sagacity. His
cunning had influenced him to repel, with an assumption of ignorance,
Luna's broad hints of guilty complicity; but his sagacity failed utterly
to comprehend Pierre's more cunning silence. Pierre was actively
acquainted with Morrison's weak points, and while he ceased not to
flatter them he never neglected to gather rewards for his labour. If the
fabled crow had had the wit to swallow his cheese before he began to
sing he would at least have had a full stomach to console himself for
being duped. This is somewhat prognostical; but even so, it is not safe
to jump too far. It sometimes happens that the fox and the crow become
so mutually engrossed as to forget the possibility of a man and a gun.
Late this particular evening Luna entered the Blue Goose, and having
paid tribute at the bar, was guided by the knowing winks and nods of
Morrison into Pierre's private club-room, where Morrison himself soon
followed.
Morrison opened the game at once.
"That new supe at the Rainbow is getting pretty fly." He apparently
addressed Pierre.
Pierre bowed, in smiling acquiescence.
"Our little game is going to come to an end pretty soon, too."
"To what li'l game you refer?" Pierre inquired, blandly. Pierre did not
mind talking frankly with one; with two he weighed his words.
Morrison made an impatient gesture.
"You know. I told you about the old man's getting back that ore."
Pierre rubbed his hands softly.
"Meestaire Firmstone, he's smooth stuff, ver' smooth stuff."
"He's getting too smooth," interrupted Luna. "I don't mind a supe's
looking out for his company. That's what he's paid for. But when he
begins putting up games on the men, that's another matter, and I don't
propose to stand it. Not for my part."
"He's not bin populaire wiz ze boy?" inquired Pierre.
"No."
Pierre chuckled softly.
"He keeps too much ze glass-eye on ze plate, on ze stamp, heh?"
"That's not all."
"No," Pierre continued; "he mek ze sample; he mek ze assay, hall ze
time."
"That's not all, either. He----"
"A--a--ah! He bin mek ze viseete in ze mill in ze night, all hour, any
hour. Ze boy can't sleep, bin keep awake, bin keep ze han'--" Pierre
winked knowingly, making a scoop with his hand, and thrusting it into
his pocket.
Luna grinned.
"At ze mine ze boy get two stick powdaire, four candle, all day, eh? No
take ten, fifteen stick, ten, fifteen candle, use two, four, sell ze
res'?" Pierre again winked smilingly.
"You're sizing it up all right."
"_Bien!_ I tol' you. Ze hol' man, he's bin hall right. I tol' you look
out. Bimeby I tol' you again. Goslow. Da's hall."
Morrison was getting impatient.
"What's the use of barking our shins, climbing for last year's birds'
nests? The facts are just as I told you. The old man's getting too fly.
The boys are getting tired of it. The question is, how are we going to
stop him? If we can't stop him can we get rid of him?"
"I can tell you one way to stop him, and get rid of him at the same
time," Luna broke in.
"How is that?" asked Morrison.
"Cut the cable when he goes up on the tram."
"Will you take the job?" Morrison asked, sarcastically.
Luna's enthusiasm waned under the question.
"Such things have happened."
"Some odder tings also happens." Pierre slipped an imaginary rope around
his neck.
Morrison passed the remark and started in on a line of his own.
"I've been telling Luna and some of the other boys what I think. I don't
mind their making a little on the side. It's no more than they deserve,
and the company can stand it. It doesn't amount to much, anyway. But
what I do kick about is this everlasting spying around all the time.
It's enough to make a thief out of an honest man. If you put a man on
his honour, he isn't going to sleep on shift, even if the supe doesn't
come in on him, every hour of the night. Anyway, a supe ought to know
when a man does a day's work. Isn't that so?" He looked at Luna.
"That's right, every time."
"Then there's another point. A man has some rights of his own, if he
does work for $3 a day. The old man is all the time posting notices at
the mine and at the mill. He tells men what days they can get their pay,
and what days they can't. If a man quits, he's got to take a time-check
that isn't worth face, till pay-day. Now what I want to know is this:
Haven't the men just as good a right to post notices as the company
has?" Morrison was industriously addressing Pierre, but talking at Luna.
Pierre made no response, so Luna spoke instead.
"I've been thinking the same thing."
Morrison turned to Luna.
"Well, I'll tell you. You fellows don't know your rights. When you work
eight hours the company owes you three dollars. You have a right to your
full pay any time you want to ask for it. Do you get it? Not much. The
company says pay-day is the 15th of every month. You have nothing to say
about it. You begin to work the first of one month. At the end of the
month the company makes up the payroll. On the 15th you get pay for last
month's work. The 15th, suppose you want to quit. You ask for your time.
Do you get your pay for the fifteen days? Not much. They give you a
time-check. If you'll wait thirty days you'll get a bank-check or cash,
just as they choose. Suppose you want your money right away, do you get
it?" Morrison looked fixedly at Luna.
Luna shook his head in reply.
"Of course not. What do you do? Why, you go to a bank, and if the
company's good the bank will discount your check--one, two, three, or
five per cent. Your time amounts to $60, less board. The bank gives you,
instead of $60, $57, which means that you put in one hard day's work to
get what's your due."
"The law's done away with time-checks," objected Luna.
"Oh, yes, so it has. Says you must be paid in full." Morrison called on
all his sarcasm to add emphasis to his words. "So the company complies
with the law. It writes out a bank-check for $60, but dates it thirty
days ahead, so the bank gets in its work, just the same."
Luna glanced cunningly from Morrison to Pierre.
"It strikes me that the Blue Goose isn't giving the bank a fair show. I
never cashed in at the bank."
"What time ze bank open, eh?" Pierre asked, languidly.
"Ten to four." Luna looked a trifle puzzled.
"_Bien!_ Sunday an' ze holiday?" pursued Pierre.
"'Tain't open at all."
"_Tres bien!_ Ze Blue Goose, she mek open hall ze time, day, night,
Sunday, holiday."
"Well, you get paid for it," answered Luna, doggedly.
"Oh, that isn't all," Morrison interrupted, impatiently. "I just give
you this as one example. I can bring up a thousand. You know them as
well as I do. There's no use going over the whole wash." There was no
reply. Morrison went on, "There's no use saying anything about short
time, either. You keep your own time; but what does that amount to? You
take what the company gives you. Of course, the law will take your time
before the company's; but what does that amount to? Just this: You're
two or three dollars shy on your time. You go to law about it, and
you'll get your two or three dollars; but it will cost you ten times as
much; besides, you'll be blacklisted."
It may appear that Morrison was training an able-bodied Gatling on a
very small corporal's guard, and so wasting his ammunition. The fact is,
Morrison was an active dynamo to which Luna, as an exhausted battery,
was temporarily attached. Mr. Morrison felt very sure that if Luna were
properly charged he would increase to a very large extent the radius of
dynamic activity.
Inwardly Pierre was growing a little restless over Morrison's zeal. It
was perfectly true that in the matter of paying the men the company was
enforcing an arbitrary rule that practically discounted by a small per
cent. the men's wages; but the men had never objected. Understanding the
reason, they had never even considered it an injustice. There was no
bank at Pandora, and it was not a very safe proceeding for a company,
even, to carry a large amount of cash. Besides, the men knew very well
that the discount did not benefit the company in the least. An
enforcement of the law would interfere with Pierre's business. If Pierre
found no butter on one side of his toast, he was accustomed to turn it
over and examine the other side before he made a row. Recalling the fact
that last impressions are the strongest, he proceeded to take a hand
himself. He turned blandly to Luna.
"How long you bin work in ze mill?" he asked.
"About a year."
"You get ze check every month?"
"Why, yes; of course."
"How much he bin discount?"
"Nothing."
"_Bien!_ You mek ze kick for noddings?"
"I don't know about that," remarked Luna. "The way I size it up, that's
about all that's coming my way. It's kick or nothing."
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," called Morrison.
The door swung open, and the mine foreman entered.
"Why, howdy, Jim? You're just the fellow we've been waiting for. How's
things at the mine?"
"Damned if I know!" replied Jim, tossing his hat on the floor. "The old
man's in the mix-up, so I don't know how much I'm supposed to know."
"What are you supposed to know?" Morrison was asking leading questions.
"Well, for one thing, I'm supposed to know when a man's doing a day's
work."
"Well, don't you?"
"Not according to the old man. He snoops around and tells me that this
fellow's shirking, and to push him up; that that fellow's not timbering
right, doesn't know his business, that I'd better fire him; that the
gang driving on Four are soldiering, that I'd better contract it."
"Contract it, eh?"
"Yes."
"Did you?"
"I had to!"
"How are the contractors making out?"
"Kicking like steers; say they ain't making wages."
"Who measures up?"
"The old man, of course."
"Uses his own tape and rod, eh?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Oh, nothing; only, if I were you, I'd just look over his measures. You
never heard of tapes that measured thirteen inches to the foot, did you?
Nor of rods that made a hole three feet, when it was four?"
"What are you feeding us?" the foreman asked, in surprise.
"Pap. You're an infant. So's the gang of you."
"What do you mean?"
"Just this." Morrison looked wearied. "Thirteen inches to the foot means
eight and one-third feet to the hundred. That is, it's likely the
contractors are doing one hundred and eight feet and four inches, and
getting pay for a hundred. No wonder they're kicking. That's $75 to the
good for the company."
"I never thought of that," replied the foreman.
"I don't know that it's to be wondered at," answered Morrison. "After a
man's pounded steel all day and got his head full of powder smoke, he's
too tired and sick to think of anything. How are you coming on with the
organisation?"
"Oh, all right. Most of the boys will come in all right. Some are
standing off, though. Say they'd as soon be pinched by the company as
bled by the union."
"Oh, well, don't trouble them too much. We'll attend to them later on.
It's going to be a bad climate for scabs when we get our working clothes
on."
"It means a strike to get them out."
To this sentiment Luna acquiesced with an emphatic nod.
"Strike!" ejaculated Morrison. "That's just what we will do, and pretty
soon, too!" He was still smarting with the memory of Bennie's words.
Pierre again took a hand.
"Who mek ze troub', heh? Meestaire Firmstone. I bin tol' you he's smooth
stuff, ver' smooth stuff. You mek ze strike. _P'quoi?_ Mek Meestaire
Firmstone quit, eh? _Bien!_ You mek ze strike, you mek Meestaire
Firmstone keep his job. _P'quoi?_ Ze company say Meestaire Firmstone one
good man; he mek ze boy kick. _Bien!_ Meester Firmstone, he stay."
"He'll stay, anyway," growled Morrison, "unless we can get him out."
Pierre shook his head softly.
"Ze strike mek him to stay."
"What do you propose, then?" asked Morrison, impatiently.
"Meestaire Jim at ze mine bin foreman. Meestaire Luna at ze mill bin
foreman. Slick men! Ver' slick men! An' two slick men bin ask hol'
Pierre, one hol' Frenchmans, how mek for Meestaire Firmstone ze troub'."
Pierre shook his head deprecatingly. "Mek one suppose. Mek suppose ze
mill all ze time broke down. Mek suppose ze mine raise hell. _Bien!_
Bimeby ze company say, 'Meestaire Firmstone bin no good.'"
"Frenchy's hitting pay dirt all right," commented Luna. "That's the
stuff!"
Pierre rose to his feet excitedly.
"_Bien!_ Ze mill broke down and ze mine blow hup. Bimeby ze company say,
'Meestaire Firmstone mek _beaucoup_ ze troub' all ze time!' _Bien!_ Ze
steel get hin ze roll, ze stamp break, ze tram break, ze men kick. Hall
ze time Meestaire Firmstone mek ze explain. _Comment!_ 'Meestaire
Firmstone, you ain't bin fit for no superintend. Come hoff; we bin got
anodder fel'.'"
Luna expressed his comprehension of Pierre's plan. He was seconded by
the mine foreman. Morrison was not wholly enthusiastic; but he yielded.
"Well," he said, "warm it up for him. We'll give it a try, anyway. I'd
like to see that smooth-faced, glass-eyed company minion dancing on a
hot iron."
The assembly broke up. The very next day the warming process began in
earnest.