"
"Chase 'em," advised Banneker simply. "They've got no right keeping your
passengers off your trains."
"Chase 'em, ay? You'd do it, I suppose."
"I would."
"How?"
"You've got a gun, haven't you?"
"Maybe you think those guys haven't got guns, too."
"Well, all I can say is, that if there had been passengers held up from
their trains at my station and I didn't get them through, _I_'d have
been through so far as the Atkinson and St. Philip goes."
"This railroad's different. I'd be through if I butted in on this mill
row."
"How's that?"
"Well, for one thing, old Vanney, who's the real boss here, is a
director of the road."
"So _that_'s it!" Banneker digested this information. "Why are the women
so anxious to get away?"
"They say"--the local agent lowered his voice--"their children are
starving here, and they can get better jobs in other places. Naturally
the mills don't want to lose a lot of their hands, particularly the
women, because they're the cheapest. I don't know as I blame 'em for
that. But this business of hiring a bunch of ex-cons and--Hey! Where are
you goin'?"
Banneker was beyond the door before the query was completed. Looking out
of the window, the agent saw a fat and fussy young mother, who had
contrived to get through the line, waddling at her best speed across the
open toward the station, and dragging a small boy by the hand.
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