“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 neighbor.
“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 honor to be chosen to help the lodge.”
