The Valley of Fear
249. He says:
“‘DEAR SIR.—“There is a job to be done on Andrew Rae of Rae & Sturmash,
coal owners near this place. You will remember that your lodge owes us
a return, having had the service of two brethren in the matter of the
patrolman last fall. You will send two good men, they will be taken
charge of by Treasurer Higgins of this lodge, whose address you know.
He will show them when to act and where. Yours in freedom,
“‘J.W. WINDLE, D.M.A.O.F.’”
“Windle has never refused us when we have had occasion to ask for the
loan of a man or two, and it is not for us to refuse him.” McGinty
paused and looked round the room with his dull, malevolent eyes. “Who
will volunteer for the job?”
Several young fellows held up their hands. The Bodymaster looked at
them with an approving smile.
“You’ll do, Tiger Cormac. If you handle it as well as you did the last,
you won’t be wrong. And you, Wilson.”
“I’ve no pistol,” said the volunteer, a mere boy in his teens.
“It’s your first, is it not? Well, you have to be blooded some time. It
will be a great start for you. As to the pistol, you’ll find it waiting
for you, or I’m mistaken. If you report yourselves on Monday, it will
be time enough. You’ll get a great welcome when you return.”
“Any reward this time?” asked Cormac, a thick-set, dark-faced,
brutal-looking young man, whose ferocity had earned him the nickname of
“Tiger.”
“Never mind the reward. You just do it for the honour of the thing.
Maybe when it is done there will be a few odd dollars at the bottom of
the box.”
“What has the man done?” asked young Wilson.
“Sure, it’s not for the likes of you to ask what the man has done. He
has been judged over there. That’s no business of ours. All we have to
do is to carry it out for them, same as they would for us. Speaking of
that, two brothers from the Merton lodge are coming over to us next
week to do some business in this quarter.”
“Who are they?” asked someone.
“Faith, it is wiser not to ask. If you know nothing, you can testify
nothing, and no trouble can come of it. But they are men who will make
a clean job when they are about it.”
“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 neighbour.
“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
honour to be chosen to help the lodge.”
There was great applause at this. It was felt that a new sun was
pushing its rim above the horizon. To some of the elders it seemed that
the progress was a little too rapid.
“I would move,” said the secretary, Harraway, a vulture-faced old
graybeard who sat near the chairman, “that Brother McMurdo should wait
until it is the good pleasure of the lodge to employ him.”
“Sure, that was what I meant; I’m in your hands,” said McMurdo.
“Your time will come, Brother,” said the chairman. “We have marked you
down as a willing man, and we believe that you will do good work in
these parts. There is a small matter to-night in which you may take a
hand if it so please you.”
“I will wait for something that is worth while.”
“You can come to-night, anyhow, and it will help you to know what we
stand for in this community. I will make the announcement later.
Meanwhile,” he glanced at his agenda paper, “I have one or two more
points to bring before the meeting. First of all, I will ask the
treasurer as to our bank balance. There is the pension to Jim
Carnaway’s widow. He was struck down doing the work of the lodge, and
it is for us to see that she is not the loser.”
“Jim was shot last month when they tried to kill Chester Wilcox of
Marley Creek,” McMurdo’s neighbour informed him.
“The funds are good at the moment,” said the treasurer, with the
bankbook in front of him. “The firms have been generous of late. Max
Linder & Co. paid five hundred to be left alone. Walker Brothers sent
in a hundred; but I took it on myself to return it and ask for five. If
I do not hear by Wednesday, their winding gear may get out of order. We
had to burn their breaker last year before they became reasonable. Then
the West Section Coaling Company has paid its annual contribution. We
have enough on hand to meet any obligations.”
“What about Archie Swindon?” asked a brother.
“He has sold out and left the district. The old devil left a note for
us to say that he had rather be a free crossing sweeper in New York
than a large mine owner under the power of a ring of blackmailers. By
Gar! it was as well that he made a break for it before the note reached
us! I guess he won’t show his face in this valley again.”
An elderly, clean-shaved man with a kindly face and a good brow rose
from the end of the table which faced the chairman. “Mr. Treasurer,” he
asked, “may I ask who has bought the property of this man that we have
driven out of the district?”
“Yes, Brother Morris. It has been bought by the State & Merton County
Railroad Company.”
“And who bought the mines of Todman and of Lee that came into the
market in the same way last year?”
“The same company, Brother Morris.”
“And who bought the ironworks of Manson and of Shuman and of Van Deher
and of Atwood, which have all been given up of late?”
“They were all bought by the West Gilmerton General Mining Company.”
“I don’t see, Brother Morris,” said the chairman, “that it matters to
us who buys them, since they can’t carry them out of the district.”
“With all respect to you, Eminent Bodymaster, I think it may matter
very much to us. This process has been going on now for ten long years.
We are gradually driving all the small men out of trade. What is the
result? We find in their places great companies like the Railroad or
the General Iron, who have their directors in New York or Philadelphia,
and care nothing for our threats. We can take it out of their local
bosses; but it only means that others will be sent in their stead. And
we are making it dangerous for ourselves. The small men could not harm
us. They had not the money nor the power. So long 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 lawcourts? 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.”