“Shut your mouth,” said Kurfeldt to the crowd.  “Colonel Stirling,” he continued, “we know you’re our friend.  But you can’t stay so if you fight labor.  Take your choice.  Be the rich man’s servant, or our friend.”

    “I know neither rich man nor poor man in this,” Colonel Stirling
    said.  “I know only the law.”

    “You’ll let the scabs go on?”

    “I know no such class.  If I find any man doing what the law allows
    him to do, I shall not interfere.  But I shall preserve order.”

    “Will you order your men to fire on us?”

    “If you break the laws.”

    “Do it at your peril,” cried Potter angrily.  “For every shot your
    regiment fires, you’ll lose a thousand votes on election day.”

Colonel Stirling turned on him, his face blazing with scorn.  “Votes,” he cried.  “Do you think I would weigh votes at such a time?  There is no sacrifice I would not make, rather than give the order that ends a human life; and you think that paper ballots can influence my action?  Votes compared to men’s lives!”

    “Oh,” cried Doggett, “don’t come the heavy nobility racket on us. 
    We are here for business.  Votes is votes, and you needn’t pretend
    you don’t think so.”

    Colonel Stirling was silent for a moment.  Then he said calmly:  “I
    am here to do my duty, not to win votes.  There are not votes
    enough in this country to make me do more or less.”

    “Hear him talk,” jeered one of the crowd, “and he touting round
    the saloons to get votes.”

    The crowd jeered and hissed unpleasantly.

“Come, Colonel,” said Kurfeldt, “we know you’re after votes this year, and know too much to drive them away.  You ain’t goin’ to lose fifty thousand votes, helpin’ scabs to take the bread away from us, only to see you and your party licked.”

    “No,” shouted a man in the crowd.  “You don’t dare monkey with
    votes!”

    Colonel Stirling turned and faced the crowd.  “Do you want to know
    how much I care for votes,” he called, his head reared in the air.

    “Speak up loud, sonny,” shouted a man far back in the mass, “we
    all want to hear.”

Colonel Stirling’s voice rang quite clear enough, “Votes be damned!” he said, and turning on his heel, strode back past the sentries.  And the strikers knew the fate of their attempt to keep out the scabs.  Colonel Stirling’s “damn” had damned the strike as well as the votes.

Dead silence fell on the committee and crowd.  Even Company D. looked astounded.  Finally, however, one of the committee said, “There’s no good wasting time here.”  Then a reporter said to a confrere, “What a stunning headline that will make?” Then the Captain of Company D. got his mouth closed enough to exclaim, “Oi always thought he could swear if he tried hard.  Begobs, b’ys, it’s proud av him we should be this day.  Didn’t he swear strong an’ fine like?  Howly hivens! it’s a delight to hear damn said like that.”