no other way out. No matter what you do under your old tactics, you are doomed to defeat, if for no other reason because the masters control the courts.”83
“You run ahead too fast,” O’Connor answered. “You don’t know all the ways out. There is another way out. We know what we’re about. We’re sick of strikes. They’ve got us beaten that way to a frazzle. But I don’t think we’ll ever need to call our men out again.”
“What is your way out?” Ernest demanded bluntly.
O’Connor laughed and shook his head. “I can tell you this much: We’ve not been asleep. And we’re not dreaming now.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of, or ashamed of, I hope,” Ernest challenged.
“I guess we know our business best,” was the retort.
“It’s a dark business, from the way you hide it,” Ernest said with growing anger.
“We’ve paid for our experience in sweat and blood, and we’ve earned all that’s coming to us,” was the reply. “Charity begins at home.”
“If you’re afraid to tell me your way out, I’ll tell it to you.” Ernest’s blood was up. “You’re going in for grab-sharing. You’ve made terms with the enemy, that’s what you’ve done. You’ve sold out the cause of labor, of all labor. You are leaving the battle-field like cowards.”
“I’m not saying anything,” O’Connor answered sullenly. “Only I guess we know what’s best for us a little bit better than you do.”
“And you don’t care a cent for what is best for the rest of labor. You kick it into the ditch.”