"That's what puzzled me."
"Well," said the bartender, "they ain't let to. Don't you see?"
"I see," whispered the boy.
"There's a crowd that runs this town, Sammy; and they mean to go on
runnin' it. And don't you think they can't find ways of shuttin' up a
kid like you!"
"But Mr. Finnegan, it would be murder!"
"Well, they wouldn't have to do it themselves, would they? When Henry
Hickman wants a chicken for dinner, he don't have to wring its neck
with his own hands."
Samuel could find nothing to reply to that. He sat dumb with horror.
"You see," continued Finnegan after a bit, "I know about this game,
and I'm givin' you a friendly word. What the hell does a kid like you
want to be reformin' things for anyway?"
"What else can I do?" asked Samuel.
To which the other answered, "Do? Get yourself a decent job, and find
some girl you like and settle down. You'll never know what there is in
life, Sammy, till you've got a baby."
But Samuel only shook his head. The plan did not appeal to him. "I'll
try to keep out of trouble," he said, "but I MUST make that speech!"
So Finnegan went out, shaking his head and grumbling to himself. And
Samuel hurried off to see his lawyer friend again. The result of the
visit was that Everley exacted from him a solemn promise that he would
not go out of the house after dark.
"I know what was done in this town during the strike," said the other,
"and I don't want to take any chances.
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