asked. On one point only had they yielded. The seven non-union employees were permitted to remain. But, as an offset, a clause was inserted in the new agreement to the effect that no discrimination of any kind, at any time, should be made against any one on account of his affiliation with a union, nor on account of his participation in the controversy, nor on account—and this was emphasized—of his leadership in the successful fight for better conditions. So work did not cease, wages were advanced, hours were shortened, the rights of labor had been sustained, a long step had been taken toward the goal which the workingman has always in view. Steve Lamar and Bricky Hoover were the heroes of the hour. The first because he had so skilfully planned and directed the contest, the second because, as leader and spokesman, he had come out of every conference with flying colors, and by sheer persistence had brought Richard Malleson and his capitalistic partners to their knees.
On the evening following the signing of the new wage-agreement the barroom of the Silver Star was crowded. It was still early, but there was barely standing room in the place. When Lamar and Hoover entered together a great shout went up. Every foaming glass was held high and clinked loudly, and drained to the bottom in their honor. These, indeed, were the men to free labor from its chains. Smilingly, deprecatingly as became them, they acknowledged the greeting and passed on into the inner room which had been the scene of so many of their conferences. When they were seated at a table, their glasses half-drained, the tips of their cigars glowing cheerily, Lamar looked at Bricky, smiled and said:
"Well?"
And Bricky smiled back and replied:
"Well?"
"So far so good," said Lamar. "Now for the strike."
