"What I want to ask is this: I want to know if we have joined this
order to listen to chin-music the rest of our lives, or to do
somethin'. There is some kind of men that kin talk tell day of
jedgment, lettin' Gabrel toot and then beginnin' ag'in. I ain't that
kind; I j'ined to do somethin';--what's to be done?"

He sat down with his hand on his hip, squarely facing the luckless
Bott, whose face grew as purple as the illuminated side of it. But he
opened not his mouth. Offitt answered the question:

"I would state," he said glibly, "the objects we propose to accomplish:
the downfall of the money power, the rehabitation of labor, the----"

"Oh, yes!" Bowersox interrupted, "I know all about that,--but what are
we goin' to _do?_"

Offitt paled a little, but did not flinch at the savage tone of the
surly brute. He began again in his smoothest manner:

"I am of the opinion that the discussion of sound principles, such as
we have listened to to-night, is among the objects of our order. After
that, organization for mutual profit and protection against the minions
of the money power,--for makin' our influence felt in elections,--for
extendin' a helpin' hand to honest toil,--for rousin' our bretheren
from their lethargy, which, like a leaden pall----"

"I want to know," growled Bowersox, with sullen obstinacy, "what's to
be done."