I
pretended to get mad, and I talked wild. I said that Lebanon would get
them first, that Lebanon wouldn't wait, but'd have it out; and I took off
my coat and staggered about--blind-fair blind boozy. I tripped over some
fool's foot purposely, just beside a bench against the wall, and I come
down on that bench hard. They laughed--Lord, how they laughed! They
didn't mind my givin' 'em fits--all except one or two. That was what I
expected. The one or two was mad. They begun raging towards me, but there
I was asleep on the bench-stony blind, and then they only spit fire a
bit. Some one threw my coat over me. I hadn't any cash in the pockets,
not much--I knew better than that--and I snored like a sow. Then it
happened what I thought would happen. They talked. And here it is.
They're going to have a strike in the mills, and you're to get a toss
into the river. That's to be on Friday. But the other thing--well, they
all cleared away but two. They were the two that wanted to have it out
with me. They stayed behind. There was I snoring like a locomotive, but
my ears open all right.
"Well, they give the thing away. One of 'em had just come from Felix
Marchand and he was full of it. What was it? Why, the second night of the
strike your new bridge over the river was to be blown up.
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