There are not votes
enough in this country to make me do more or less."
"Hear him talk," jeered one of the crowd, "and he touting round
the saloons to get votes."
The crowd jeered and hissed unpleasantly.
"Come, Colonel," said Kurfeldt, "we know you're after votes this
year, and know too much to drive them away. You ain't goin' to
lose fifty thousand votes, helpin' scabs to take the bread away
from us, only to see you and your party licked."
"No," shouted a man in the crowd. "You don't dare monkey with
votes!"
Colonel Stirling turned and faced the crowd. "Do you want to know
how much I care for votes," he called, his head reared in the air.
"Speak up loud, sonny," shouted a man far back in the mass, "we
all want to hear."
Colonel Stirling's voice rang quite clear enough, "Votes be
damned!" he said, and turning on his heel, strode back past the
sentries. And the strikers knew the fate of their attempt to keep
out the scabs.
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