Where is he now? Out somewheres where he don't belong,
fightin' and bein' killed to help Wall Street get rich. And who
sent him there? Why, Sam Hunniwell and his gang. You're one of
'em, Jed Winslow. To hell with you, every one of you, daughters
and all hands."
"But, Phin--just a minute. Think of what it'll mean to Charlie,
poor young feller. It'll mean--"
"It'll mean ten years this time, and a good job, too. You poor
fool, do you think you can talk me out of this? You, you sawdust-
head? What do you think I came into your hole here for? I came
here so's you'd know what I was goin' to do to your precious chums.
I wanted to tell you and have the fun of watchin' you squirm.
Well, I'm havin' the fun, plenty of it. Squirm, you Wall Street
bloodsucker, squirm."
He fairly stood on tiptoe to scream the last command. To a
disinterested observer the scene might have had some elements of
farce comedy. Certainly Phineas, his hat fallen off and under
foot, his scanty gray hair tousled and his pugnacious chin beard
bristling, was funny to look at. And the idea of calling Jed
Winslow a "Wall Street bloodsucker" was the cream of burlesque.
But to Jed himself it was all tragedy, deep and dreadful. He made
one more desperate plea.
"But, Phin," he begged, "think of his--his sister, Charlie's
sister. What'll become of her and--and her little girl?"
Phineas snorted.
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