Part 35 (1/2)
”Where you think he go?” demanded the Icelander, after Bob had finished.
”I'll tell you, Segunder, I believe that man Cavard has had something to do with this affair.”
”Huh!” was the only comment made by the giant.
After his day's work had been finished, however, Segunder started off downtown. He walked along with lowered head, gazing suspiciously into every face he met, as though in search of someone. Olsen continued his slow tramping about the village until the supper hour had pa.s.sed. He had no thought for this. His mind was possessed of a singleness of purpose that would permit of the entrance of no other thought there.
”You know where boss he stay?” demanded Segunder of the secretary of the union, whom he finally met.
”Who do you mean--the superintendent?”
Olsen shook his head.
”Cavard.”
”Oh, Cavard, you mean? I left him at Liberty Hall just now. He is attending to some of the union's affairs there. You will find him if you go there. He isn't going home to supper. What do you want? You're a scab! They'll serve you as they did those two scabs Rush and Jarvis, if you go there.”
”No throw Segunder out of window,” grunted the Icelander.
The information that he had obtained did not seem to elate him. He turned toward the hall, plodding along with lowered head and set, inexpressive countenance.
There was no one to bar his progress up the stairs, and it was well for such that there was none. Segunder was going up to the meeting room regardless of any obstacles that might obstruct his path.
The Icelander strode into the hall where, with head still lowered, he gazed at Cavard with dull, listless eyes. The walking delegate and head of the union was absorbed in a litter of doc.u.ments on his desk. At first he did not see Olsen, and there was no one else in the room to inform him of the other man's presence.
Finally the big Icelander coughed to attract the other man's attention.
Cavard glanced up; then a scowl overspread his face.
”What do you want here?” demanded the leader, half irritably.
Segunder did not answer.
”I say, what do you want?”
”I want you. I come speak with you.”
”Get out of here! I want nothing to do with a scab!”
”I go when get ready.”
”You will go now. If you do not move fast enough I will throw you out--yes, I'll throw you downstairs head first, or whichever way you chance to start. Now go!”
Cavard arose to give emphasis to his words.
”Where you put boy?”
”What?”