"Discharged," said Payson briefly. "All of you who belong to my gang.
Checker, I'll call their names off to you."

While Payson, and then the other foremen, were calling the names, the
workmen stood by in sullen silence. When the last name had been entered
the same bull-necked spokesman flared up again.

"Have we no rights?" he demanded. "Is there no such thing as the right
of appeal in this camp, or are we under a lot of domineering, petty
tyrants like you?"

"I'm a poor specimen of tyrant,"' laughed Payson good-naturedly. "All
I'm doing, Bellas, is following orders. Any man who feels that he was
justified in being away, and that he ought to be kept on the pay rolls
here, may make his appeal to Mr. Hawkins, Mr. Hazelton or Mr. Reade."

"I'll see Reade!" announced Bellas stiffly. "That youngster is doing
all the dirty work here. I'll go to him straight."

"I'll take you over to his office," nodded Foreman Payson.

"I'm going, too," announced another workman.

"So'm I," added another.

"One at a time, men," advised Payson. "I think Bellas feels that he's
capable of talking for all of you."

The other foremen restrained the crowd, while Mr. Payson led Bellas over
to the headquarters shack.