Scott Leroy
The Walking Delegate

Chapter XXIV
BUSINESS IS BUSINESS

It had been hard for Baxter to broach his plan to the Executive Committee. The next step in the plan was far harder – to write the letter to Foley. His revolted pride upreared itself against this act, but his business sense forced him to go on with what he had begun. So he wrote the letter – not an easy task of itself, since the letter had to be so vague as to tell Foley nothing, and yet so luring as to secure his presence – and sent it to Foley's house by messenger.

The next afternoon at a quarter past two the committee was again in Baxter's office. Foley had been asked to come at half-past. The fifteen minutes before his expected arrival they spent in rehearsing the plan, so soon to be put to its severest test.

"I suppose you'll do all the talking, Baxter," said Bobbs.

"Sure," answered Murphy. "It's his game. I don't like to give in that any man's better than me, but when it comes to fine work o' this kind we ain't one, two, three with Baxter."

Baxter took the compliment with unchanged face.

Foley was not on time. At two-forty he had not come, and that he would come at all began to be doubted. At two-fifty he had not arrived. At three none of the four really expected him.

"Let's go," said Murphy. "He'd 'a' been here on time if he was comin' at all. I ain't goin' to waste my time waitin' on any walkin' delegate."

"Perhaps there has been some mistake – perhaps he didn't get the letter," suggested Baxter. But his explanation did not satisfy himself; he had a growing fear that he had humiliated himself in vain, that Foley had got the letter and was laughing at him – a new humiliation greater even than the first. "But let's wait a few minutes longer; he may come yet," he went on; and after a little persuasion the three consented to remain half an hour longer.

At quarter past three the office boy brought word that Foley was without. Baxter ordered that he be sent in, but before the boy could turn Foley walked through the open door, derby hat down over his eyes, hands in his trousers pockets. Baxter stood up, and the other three rose slowly after him.

"Good-afternoon, gents," Foley said carelessly, his eyes running rapidly from face to face. "D'I keep youse waitin'?"

"Only about an hour," growled Murphy.

"Is that so, now? Sorry. I always take a nap after lunch, an' I overslep' myself."

Foley's eyes had fixed upon Baxter's, and Baxter's returned their gaze. For several seconds the two stood looking at each other with expressionless faces, till the other three began to wonder. Then Baxter seemed to swallow something. "Won't you please be seated, Mr. Foley," he said.

"Sure," said Foley in his first careless tone.

The five sat down. Foley again coolly scanned the committee. "Well?" he said.

The three looked at Baxter to open the conversation. He did not at once begin, and Foley took out his watch. "I can only give youse a few minutes, gents. I've got an engagement up town at four. So if there's anything doin', s'pose we don't waste no time in silent prayer."

"We want to talk over the strike with you," began Baxter.

"Really. If I'd known that now I'd 'a' brought the committee along."

Murphy scowled at this naïveté. "We don't want to talk to your committee."

"I'm nobody without the committee. The committee's runnin' the strike."

"We merely desire to talk things over in a general way with you in your capacity as an individual," said Baxter quickly, to head off other remarks from Murphy.

"A general talk? Huh! Youse talk two hours; result – youse've talked two hours." He slowly rose and took his hat, covering a yawn with a bony hand. "Interestin'. I'd like it if I had the time to spare. But I ain't. Well – so-long."

"Hold on!" cried Baxter hastily. Foley turned. "We thought that possibly, as the result of our talk, we might be able to reach some compromise for the settlement of the strike."

"If youse've got any plans, that's different." Foley resumed his chair, resting an elbow on the table.

"But remember I've got another engagement, an' cut 'em short."

There were five chairs in the room. Baxter had placed his own with its back to the window, and Foley's so that the full light fell straight in the walking delegate's face. His own face, in the shadow, was as though masked.

Baxter had now immediately before him the task of opening the way for Foley to make the desired demand. "This strike has been going on over five weeks now," he began, watching the walking delegate's face for any expression significant that his words were having their effect. "You have been fixed in your position; we have been fixed in ours. Your union has lost about three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I won't say how much we've lost. We both seem to be as firmly fixed in our determination as ever. The strike may last all summer. The question is, do we both want to keep on losing money – indefinitely?"

Foley did not take the opening. "That's the question," he said blandly.

It was a few seconds before Baxter went on. "I judge that we do not. You have – "

"Excuse me," said Foley, rising, "but I got weak eyes, an' this light hurts 'em. Suppose me an' youse changes chairs." He calmly stepped over to Baxter's side and waited.

There was nothing for Baxter but to yield the seat, which he did. Foley sat down, tilted back against the window sill, and hooked his heels over a chair rung.

"Your union has perhaps a million dollars at stake," Baxter continued at the same even pitch. "We have – a great deal, and the owners stand to lose heavily. If by talking an hour we can devise a plan by which this can be saved, it's worth while, is it not?"

"Sure. Speakin' as an individual, I'm willin' to talk twice as long for half as much," Foley drawled.

There was a silence. The three men, their elbows on the polished table, looked on as though spectators at a play.

"I wonder if you have anything to propose?" asked Baxter guardedly.

"Me? I come to use my ears, not my tongue."

The two men watched each other narrowly. The advantage, if there could be advantage in the case of two faces under perfect control, was all with Foley. The contractor had caught no sign revealing whether his insinuative words were having effect.

"But you perhaps have thought of some plan that is worth considering," he went on.

Foley hesitated, for the first time. "Well – yes."

"What is it?"

"I – " He broke off, and seemed to listen with suspicion.

Baxter's face quickened – the least trifle. The three men leaned further across the table, excitement tugging in their faces.

"You are perfectly safe," Baxter assured him. "No one can hear."

"The plan's dead simple. But mebbe it's occurred to youse."

"Go on!" said Baxter. The men hardly breathed.

"The quickest way o' settlin' the strike is for" – he paused – "youse bosses to give in."

Baxter's face went a little pale. Something very like a snarl came from the spectators.

Foley gave a prolonged chuckle. "If youse'll pay me for my time, I'm willin' to play tag in the dark so long's the coin lasts. But if youse ain't, come to business, or I'll go."

"I don't understand," returned Baxter blankly.

"Oh, tell the truth now an' then, Baxter. It sorter gives contrast to the other things youse say. Youse understand all right enough."

Baxter continued his blank look.

Foley laughed dryly. "Now why do youse keep up that little game with me, Baxter? But keep it up, if youse like it? It don't fool no one, so where's the harm. I see through youse all right, even if youse don't understand me."

"Yes?"

"Mebbe youse'd like to have me tell youse why youse sent for me?"

There was no answer.

"I'll tell then, since youse don't seem to want to. I only expect to live till I'm seventy-five, so I ain't got no time to waste on your way o' doin' business." Tilted at his ease against the window sill, he gave each of the four a slow glance from his sharp eyes. "Well, youse gents sent for me to see if I wouldn't offer to sell out the strike."

This was hardly the manner in which the four had expected he would be led on to hold them up. There was a moment of suppressed disconcertment. Then Baxter remarked: "It seems to me that you are doing some very unwarranted guessing."

"I may be wrong, sure." A sardonic grin showed through the shadow-mask on his face. "Well, what did youse want to talk to me about then?"

Again there was a pause. The three twisted in uncomfortable suspense. Baxter had the control of a bronze. "Suppose that was our purpose?" he asked quietly. "What would you say?"

"That's pretty fair; youse're gettin' out where there's daylight," Foley approved. "I'd say youse was wastin' time. It can't be done – even if anybody wanted it done."

"Why?"

"There's three thousand men in the union, an' every one o' them has a say in settlin' the strike. An' there's five men on the strike committee. I s'pose it's necessary to tell four such honest gents that a trick o' this sort's got to be turned on the quiet. Where's the chance for quiet? A committee might fool a union – yes. But there's the committee."

Foley looked at his watch. "I've got to move if I keep that engagement." He stood up, and a malignant look came over his face. "I've give youse gents about the only sort of a reason youse're capable of appreciatin' – I couldn't if I wanted to. But there's another – I don't want to. The only way o' settlin' this strike is the one I said first, for youse bosses to give in. I've swore to beat youse out, an', by God, I'm goin' to do it!"

Bobbs and Isaac blinked dazedly. Murphy rose with a savage look, but was sent to his chair by a glance from Baxter. Save for that glance, Foley's words would have made no more change on Baxter's face than had it indeed been of bronze.

"When youse're ready to give in, gents, send for me, an' I'll come again. Till then, damn youse, good-by!"

As his hand was on the knob Baxter's even voice reached him: "But suppose a man could fool the committee?"

Foley turned slowly around. "What?"

"Suppose a man could fool the committee?"

"What youse drivin' at?"

"Suppose a man could fool the committee?"

Foley's eyes were of blazing intentness. "It can't be done."

"I know of only one man who could do it."

"Who?"

"I think you can guess his name."

Foley came slowly back to his chair, with a gaze that fairly clutched Baxter's face. "Don't youse fool with me!" he snarled.

Baxter showed nothing of the angler's excitement who feels the fish on his hook. "Suppose a man could fool the committee? What would you say?"

Foley held his eyes in piercing study on Baxter's face. "See here, are youse talkin' business?" he demanded.

"Suppose I say I am."

The shadow could not hide a wolf-like gleam of Foley's yellow teeth. "Then I might say, 'I'll listen.'"

"Suppose a man could fool the committee," Baxter reiterated. "What would you say?"

"S'pose I was to say, 'how'?"

Baxter felt sure of his catch. Throwing cautious speech aside, he outlined the plan of his business sense, Foley watching him the while with unshifting gaze, elbows on knees, hands gripped. "Negotiations between your committee and ours might be resumed. You might be defiant for one or two meetings of the two committees. You might still be defiant in the meetings, but you might begin to drop a few words of doubt on the outside. They will spread, and have their effect. You can gradually grow a little weaker in your declarations at the meetings and a little stronger in your doubts expressed outside. Some things might happen, harmless in themselves, which would weaken the union's cause. Then you might begin to say that perhaps after all it would be better to go back to work on the old scale now, than to hold out with the possibility of having to go back at the old scale anyhow after having lost a summer's work. And so on. In three weeks, or even less, you would have the union in a mood to declare the strike off."

Foley's gaze dropped to the rug, and the four waited his decision in straining suspense. The walking delegate's mind quickly ran over all the phases of this opportunity for a fortune. None of the four men present would tell of the transaction, since, if they did, they would be blackened by their own words. To the union and all outside persons it would seem nothing more than a lost strike. The prestige he would lose in the union would be only temporary; he could regain it in the course of time. Other walking delegates had lost strikes and kept their places as leaders.

Even Baxter had begun to show signs of nervous strain when Foley raised his eyes and looked hesitatingly at the three men. Every man was one more mouth, so one more danger.

"What is it?" asked Baxter.

"I ain't used to doin' business with more'n one man."

"Oh, we're all on the level," growled Murphy. "Come out with it."

"Well, then, I say yes – with an 'if'."

"And the 'if'?" queried Baxter.

"If the price is right."

"What do you think it should be?"

Foley studied the men's faces from beneath lowered eyebrows. "Fifty thousand."

This was the sum Baxter had mentioned the afternoon before. But Isaacs cried out, "What!"

"That – or nothing!"

"Half that's enough," declared Murphy.

Foley sneered in Murphy's face. "As I happen to know, twenty-five thousand is just what youse got for workin' in the Board o' Aldermen for the Lincoln Avenue Traction Franchise. Good goods always comes higher."

The alderman's red face paled to a pink. But Baxter cut in before he could retort. "We won't haggle over the amount, Mr. Foley. I think we can consider the sum you mention as agreed upon."

Foley's yellow teeth gleamed again. He summed up his terms concisely: "Fifty thousand, then. Paid in advance. No checks. Cash only."

"Pay you in advance!" snorted Murphy. "Well I rather guess not!"

"Why?"

"Well – we want somethin' for our money!"

Foley's face grew dark. "See here, gents. We've done a little quiet business together, all of us. Now can any one o' youse say Buck Foley ever failed to keep his part o' the agreement?"

The four had to vindicate his honor. But nevertheless, for their own reason, they seemed unwilling to pay now and trust that he would do the work; and Foley, for his reason, seemed unwilling to do the work and trust that they would pay. After much discussion a compromise was reached: the money was to be paid by Baxter in the morning of the day on which the union would vote upon the strike; the committee could then feel certain that Foley would press his measure through, for he would have gone too far to draw back; and Foley, if payment should not be made, could still balk the fulfillment of the plan.

When this agreement had been reached Baxter was ready with another point. "I believe it would be wise if all our future dealings with Mr. Foley should be in the open, especially my dealings with him. If we were seen coming from an apparently secret meeting, and recognized – as we might be, for we are both known to many people – suspicions might be aroused and our plan defeated."

The four gave approval to the suggestion.

At five o'clock all was settled, and Foley rose to go. He looked irresolutely at Baxter for a moment, then said in a kind of grudging admiration: "I've never give youse credit, Baxter. I knew youse was the smoothest thing in the contractin' business, but I never guessed youse was this deep."

For an instant Baxter had a fear that he would again have to shake a great hairy hand. But Foley's tribute did not pass beyond words.

Chapter XXV
IN WHICH FOLEY BOWS TO DEFEAT

The minute after Foley had gone Mr. Baxter was talking over the telephone to the secretary of the Conciliation Committee of the Civic Federation. "We have considered your offer to try to bring our committee and the committee of the ironworkers together," he said. "We are willing to reopen negotiations with them." A letter would have been the proper and more dignified method of communication. But this was the quicker, and to Mr. Baxter a day was worth while.

The secretary believed in the high mission of his committee, and was enthusiastic to make a record for it in the avoidance of strikes and assistance in their settlement. So he laid down the telephone receiver and called for a stenographer. Within twenty minutes a messenger left his office bearing a letter to Foley.

When Foley got home, an hour after leaving Mr. Baxter's office, his wife handed him the letter. It read:

MY DEAR MR. FOLEY:

Mr. Baxter, speaking for the Executive Committee of the Iron Employers' Association, has signified their willingness to meet your committee and again discuss possible measures for the ending of the strike. Notwithstanding the barrenness of previous meetings I sincerely hope your committee will show the same willingness to resume negotiations. Permit me to urge upon your attention the extreme seriousness of the present situation: the union, the contractors, the owners, all losing money, the public discommoded by the delay in the completion of buildings; all these demand that your two committees get together and in a spirit of fairness reach some agreement whereby the present situation will be brought to an end.

Our rooms are at the service of your two committees. As time is precious I have secured Mr. Baxter's consent, for his committee, to meet you here at half-past two to-morrow afternoon. I hope this will suit you. If not, a later date can be arranged.

Though his appetite and dinner were both ready, Foley put on his hat and went to the home of Connelly. The secretary was just sitting down to his own dinner.

"I just happened to be goin' by," said Foley, "an' I thought I'd run in an' show youse a letter I got to-day." He drew out the letter and handed it to Connelly.

Foley chatted with Mrs. Connelly while the letter was being read, but all the time his eyes were watching its effect upon Connelly. When he saw the end had been reached, he remarked: "It don't amount to nothin'. I guess we might as well write 'em to go to hell."

Connelly hesitated. It usually took more than a little courage to express a view contrary to Foley's. "I don't know," he said doubtfully. "Baxter knows how we stand. It strikes me if he offers to talk things over with us, that means he realizes he's licked an' is willin' to make concessions."

"Um! Maybe youse're right."

Encouraged by this admission Connelly went on: "It might be worth our while to meet 'em, anyhow. Suppose nothin' does come of it, what have we lost?"

Foley looked half-convinced. "Well, mebbe our committee might as well talk the letter over."

"Sure thing."

"I suppose then we ought to get together to-night. If we get word to the other three boys, we've got to catch 'em at dinner. Can youse see to that?"

Connelly looked regretfully at his untasted meal. "I guess I can."

"All right. In your office then, say at eight."

The five men were in the office on time, though Connelly, to make it, had to content himself with what he could swallow in a few minutes at a quick lunch counter. The office was a large, square room, a desk in one corner, a few chairs along the sides, a great cuspidor in the center; at the windows were lace curtains, and on one wall was a full-length mirror in a gilt frame – for on nights when Potomac Hall was let for weddings, receptions, and balls, Connelly's office had over its door, "Ladies' Dressing Room."

The five men lit cigars, Foley's cigars, and drew chairs around the cuspidor, which forthwith began to bear the relation of hub to their frequent salivary spokes. "Connelly told youse about the letter from the Civic Federation, that's gettin' so stuck on runnin' God's business they'll soon have him chased off his job," Foley began. "But I guess I might as well read the letter to youse."

"Take the offer, o' course!" declared Pete, when Foley had ended.

"That's what I said," Connelly joined.

Hogan and Brown, knowing how opposed Foley was to the proposition, said nothing.

"We've wasted enough time on the bosses' committee," Foley objected. "No use talkin' to 'em again till we've put 'em down an' out."

"The trouble with you, Foley, is, you like a fight so well you can't tell when you've licked your man," said Pete in an exasperated tone. "What's the use punchin' a man after he's give in?"

"We've got 'em licked, or they'd never ask to talk things over," urged Connelly.

Foley looked in scowling meditation at his cigar ash. Then he raised his eyes to Brown and Hogan. "What do youse think?"

Thus directly questioned; they had to admit they stood with Pete and Connelly.

"Oh, well, since we ain't workin', I suppose we won't be wastin' much if we do chin a bit with 'em," he conceded. But the four easily perceived that he merely yielded to their majority, did not agree.

The next afternoon Foley and his committee were led by the secretary of the Conciliation Committee into one of the rooms of the Civic Federation's suite, where Mr. Baxter and his committee were already in waiting. The secretary expressed a hope that they arrive at an understanding, and withdrew in exultation over this example of the successful work his committee was doing.

There was a new member on the employers' committee – Mr. Berman. Mr. Baxter, exercising the power vested in him to fill vacancies temporarily, had chosen Mr. Berman as Mr. Driscoll's successor for two reasons: his observations of Mr. Berman had made him certain the latter had elastic ideas; and, more important, for Mr. Driscoll's own partner to take the vacant place would quiet all suspicions as to the cause of Mr. Driscoll's unexpected resignation. Of the five, Bobbs and Isaacs were rather self-conscious; Murphy, who had had previous experience in similar situations, wore a large, blustering manner; Berman, for all his comparative inexperience, was most promisingly at his ease; and Baxter was the Baxter he was three hundred and sixty-five days in the year.

The strikers' committee presented the confident front of expected victory. Foley, slipped far down in his chair, eyed the contractors with a sideling, insolent glance.

"If this here's to be another o' them hot air festivals, like we attended in April an' May, say so now," he growled. "We ain't got no time for talkin' unless youse mean business."

Connelly, whose chair was beside Foley's, leaned over anxiously. "Don't you think you're goin' at 'em pretty rough, Buck?" he whispered. "If you get 'em mad, they'll go right back to where they stood."

"Oh, youse leave 'em to me," Foley returned knowingly.

It would serve no purpose to give the details of this meeting. Mr. Baxter, ignoring Foley's insolence of manner, outlined in well-balanced sentences the reasons that made it imperative to both sides for the strike to be settled, and then went on to give anew the contractors' side of the questions at issue. Now and then Foley broke in with comments which were splenetic outbursts rather than effective rejoinders. When the meeting was over and his committee was out in the street, Foley shed his roughly defiant manner. "Boys," he said with quiet confidence, "we've got 'em beat to death."

The next afternoon was occupied with a debate between Mr. Baxter and Foley upon their respective claims. Foley's tongue was as sharp as ever, but his fellow committeemen had to acknowledge to their secret hearts there was more of convincing substance in what Mr. Baxter said. They wondered somewhat at the sudden declension in the effectiveness of their leader's speech, which perhaps they would not have done had they been parties to a conference that morning at which Foley had pointed out to Mr. Baxter the vulnerable spots in the union's claims, and schooled him in the most telling replies to the statements he, Foley, intended making.

After the meeting Foley again declared his certainty of winning, but there was a notable decrease of confidence in his voice.

"Yes," said Connelly, without much spirit. "But Baxter, he puts up a good talk."

"He seems to have facts to talk from," explained Brown.

"So have we," said Foley.

"Yes, but somehow at the meetin's his facts seem stronger," said Connelly.

"Oh, what o' that," Foley returned encouragingly. "More'n once in poker I've seen a strong bluff win over a strong hand."

The next meeting was a repetition of the second. Foley was keen in his wit, and insolently defiant; but Mr. Baxter got the better of every argument. The union's committee began to admit, each man to himself, that their position was weaker, and the contractors' much stronger, than they had thought.

And so, day by day, Foley continued to undermine their confidence. So skillfully did he play his part, they never guessed that he was the insinuating cause of their failing courage; more, his constant encouragement made them ashamed to speak of their sinking spirit.

But on the fifth day, at a consultation in Connelly's office, it came out. There had been an hour of talk, absolutely without a touch of enthusiasm, when Connelly, who had been looking around at the men's faces for some time, said with an effort: "On the level now, boys, d'you think we've got any chance o' winnin'?"

Foley swore. "What's that?" he demanded. "Why o' course we're goin' to win!"

But Connelly's words had their effect; the silence broken, the men spoke hesitatingly of the growing doubts they had been trying to hide. Foley stood up. "Boys, if youse're goin' to talk this kind o' rot, youse've got to talk it without me," he said, and went out.

Foley gone, they spoke freely of their doubts; and they also talked of him. "D'you notice how the ring's all gone out o' his voice?" asked Brown.

"I bet he ain't got no more confidence than any o' the rest of us," said Pete.

"I bet so, too," agreed Connelly. "He talks big just to cheer us up. Then it's mighty hard for Buck to give up. He'll always fight to his last drop o' blood."

The decline of the committee's enthusiasm had already begun to have a disquieting effect in the union. It now rapidly spread that the committee had little confidence of winning the strike, and that Foley, for all his encouraging words, believed at heart as did the rest of the committee.

The first meeting of the union after the resumption of negotiations was a bitter one. The committee made a vague report, in which Foley did not join, that made apparent their fallen courage. Immediately questioning men were on their feet all over the hall, Tom among them. The committee, cornered by queries, had to admit publicly that it had no such confidence as it had had a week before. The reasons for this were demanded. No more definite reason could be given than that the bosses were stronger in their position than the union had believed.

There were sneers and hot words for the four members who participated in the report. Cries went up for Foley, who had thus far kept out of the discussion; and one voice, answering the cries, shouted: "Oh, he's lost his nerve, too, the same as the others!"

Foley was on his feet in an instant, looking over the excited crowd. "If any man here has heard me say I'm for givin' in, let him get up on his two feet!"

No one stood up. "I guess youse all know I'm for fightin' as long's there's anything worth fightin' for," he declared, and sank back into his seat.

But there had been no wrath in his eyes as he had looked over the crowd, and no ferocity in his words of vindication. The whisper ran about that it was true, he was losing his nerve. And if Foley, Foley the fighter, were losing confidence, then the situation must indeed be desperate.

The courage of a large body of men, especially of one loosely organized, is the courage of its leaders. Now that it was known the committee's confidence was well-nigh gone, and guessed that Foley's was going, the courage of the men ebbed rapidly. It began to be said: "If there's no chance of winning the strike, why don't we settle it at once, and get back to work?" And the one who spoke loudest and most often in this strain was Johnson.

Two days after the meeting Foley had a conference with Mr. Baxter, at which the other members of the union's committee were not present. And that same night there was another explosion in one of Mr. Baxter's buildings that chanced to be unguarded. The explosion was slight, and small damage was done, but a search discovered two charges of dynamite in the foundation, with fuses burned almost to the fulminating caps.

If the dynamite did not explode, the newspapers did. The perpetrators of this second outrage, which only fate had prevented, should be hunted down and made such an example of as would be an eternal warning against like atrocities. The chief of police should apprehend the miscreants at whatever cost, and the district attorney should see that they had full justice – and perhaps a little more.

The chief of police, for his part, declared he'd have the guilty parties if it took his every man to run them down. But his men searched, days passed, and the waiting cells remained empty.

Mr. Baxter, interviewed, said it was obvious that the union was now determined to stop at nothing in its efforts to drive the contractors into submission. The union, at a special meeting, disclaimed any responsibility for the attempted outrage, and intimated that this was a scheme of the contractors themselves to blacken the union's character. When a reporter "conveyed this intelligence to Mr. Baxter, that gentleman only smiled."

The chief result of this second explosion was that so much as remained to the union of public sympathy was lost in what time it took the public to read its morning paper. Had a feeling of confidence prevailed in the union, instead of one of growing doubt, this charge might have incited the union to resistance all the stouter. But the union, dispirited over the weakness of its cause, saw its cause had been yet further weakened, and its courage fled precipitately.

Three days after the explosion there was another joint meeting of the two committees. At this Mr. Baxter, who had before been soft courtesy, was all ultimatum. The explosion had decided them. They would not be intimidated; they would not make a single concession. The union could return to work on the old terms, if it liked; if not, they would fight till there was nothing more to fight with, or for.