The
barroom at O'Leary's was filled with a motley crowd of men, most
of whom belonged to the Union, and all of whom had hoped to profit
in some way had the contract fallen into the hands of the
political ring who were dominating the affairs of the village.
The more hot-headed and outspoken swore vengeance; not only
against the horse-doctor, who had refused to permit McGaw to
smuggle in the second bid, but against Crane & Co. and everybody
else who had helped to defeat their schemes. They meant to
boycott Crane before tomorrow night. He should not unload or
freight another cargo of coal until they allowed it. The village
powers, they admitted, could not be boycotted, but they would do
everything they could to make it uncomfortable for the board if it
awarded the contract to Grogan. Neither would they forget the
trustees at the next election. As to that "smart Alec" of a
horse-doctor, they knew how to fix him. Suppose it had struck
nine and the polls had closed, what right had he to keep McGaw
from handing in his other bid? (Both were higher than Tom's.
This fact, however, McGaw had never mentioned.)
Around the tenements the interest was no less marked. Mr.
Moriarty had sent the news of Tom's success ringing through
O'Leary's, and Mrs. Moriarty, waiting outside the barroom door for
the pitcher her husband had filled for her inside, had spread its
details through every hallway in the tenement.
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