Chapter 41

THESTRIKE

ThebarnatwhichHurstwoodappliedwasexceedinglyshorthanded,andwasbeingoperatedpracticallybythreemenasdirectors.Therewerealotofgreenhandsaround—queer,hungry-lookingmen,wholookedasifwanthaddriventhemtodesperatemeans.Theytriedtobelivelyandwilling,buttherewasanairofhang-dogdiffidenceabouttheplace.

Hurstwoodwentbackthroughthebarnsandoutintoalarge,enclosedlot,wherewereaseriesoftracksandloops.Ahalfdozencarswerethere,mannedbyinstructors,eachwithapupilatthelever.Morepupilswerewaitingatoneofthereardoorsofthebarn.

InsilenceHurstwoodviewedthisscene,andwaited.Hiscompanionstookhiseyeforawhile,thoughtheydidnotinteresthimmuchmorethanthecars.Theywereanuncomfortable-lookinggang,however.Oneortwowereverythinandlean.Severalwerequitestout.Severalotherswererawbonedandsallow,asiftheyhadbeenbeatenuponbyallsortsofroughweather.

“Didyouseebythepapertheyaregoingtocalloutthemilitia.”Hurstwoodheardoneofthemremark.

“Oh,they’lldothat,”returnedtheother.“Theyalwaysdo.”

“Thinkwe’reliabletohavemuchtrouble.”saidanother,whomHurstwooddidnotsee.

“Notvery.”

“ThatScotchmanthatwentoutonthelastcar,”putinavoice,“toldmethattheyhithimintheearwitha

cinder.”

Asmall,nervouslaughaccompaniedthis.

“OneofthosefellowsontheFifthAvenuelinemusthavehadahellofatime,accordingtothepapers,”drawledanother.“Theybrokehiscarwindowsandpulledhimoffintothestreet‘forethepolicecouldstop‘em.”

“Yes;buttherearemorepolicearoundto-day,”wasaddedbyanother.

Hurstwoodhearkenedwithoutmuchmentalcomment.Thesetalkersseemedscaredtohim.Theirgabblingwasfeverish—thingssaidtoquiettheirownminds.Helookedoutintotheyardandwaited.

Twoofthemengotaroundquitenearhim,butbehindhisback.Theywererathersocial,andhelistenedtowhattheysaid.

“Areyouarailroadman.”saidone.

“Me.No.I’vealwaysworkedinapaperfactory.”

“IhadajobinNewarkuntillastOctober,”returnedtheother,withreciprocalfeeling.

Thereweresomewordswhichpassedtoolowtohear.Thentheconversationbecamestrongagain.

“Idon’tblamethesefellersforstriking,”saidone.“They’vegottherightofit,allright,butIhadtogetsomethingtodo.”

“Samehere,”saidtheother.“IfIhadanyjobinNewarkIwouldn’tbeoverheretakin’chanceslikethese.”

“It’shellthesedays,ain’tit.”saidtheman.“Apoormanain’tnowhere.Youcouldstarve,byGod,rightinthestreets,andthereain’tmostnoonewouldhelpyou.”

“Rightyouare,”saidtheother.“ThejobIhadIlost‘causetheyshutdown.Theyrunallsummerandlayupabigstock,andthenshutdown.”

Hurstwoodpaidsomelittleattentiontothis.Somehow,hefeltalittlesuperiortothesetwo—alittlebetteroff.Tohimthesewereignorantand

commonplace,poorsheepinadriver’shand.

“Poordevils,”hethought,speakingoutofthethoughtsandfeelingsofabygoneperiodofsuccess.“Next,”saidoneoftheinstructors.

“You’renext,”saidaneighbor,touchinghim.

Hewentoutandclimbedontheplatform.Theinstructortookitforgrantedthatnopreliminarieswereneeded.

“Youseethishandle,”hesaid,reachinguptoanelectriccutoff,whichwasfastenedtotheroof.“Thisthrowsthecurrentofforon.Ifyouwanttoreversethecaryouturnitoverhere.Ifyouwanttosenditforward,youputitoverhere.Ifyouwanttocutoffthepower,youkeepitinthemiddle.”

Hurstwoodsmiledatthesimpleinformation.

“Now,thishandlehereregulatesyourspeed.Tohere,”hesaid,pointingwithhisfinger,“givesyouaboutfourmilesanhour.Thisiseight.Whenit’sfullon,youmakeaboutfourteenmilesanhour.”

Hurstwoodwatchedhimcalmly.Hehadseenmotormenworkbefore.Heknewjustabouthowtheydidit,andwassurehecoulddoaswell,withaverylittlepractice.

Theinstructorexplainedafewmoredetails,andthensaid:

“Now,we’llbackherup.”

Hurstwoodstoodplacidlyby,whilethecarrolledbackintotheyard.

“Onethingyouwanttobecarefulabout,andthatistostarteasy.Giveonedegreetimetoactbeforeyoustartanother.Theonefaultofmostmenisthattheyalwayswanttothrowherwideopen.That’sbad.It’sdangerous,too.Wearsoutthemotor.Youdon’twanttodothat.”

“Isee,”saidHurstwood.

Hewaitedandwaited,whilethemantalkedon.

“Nowyoutakeit,”hesaid,finally.

Theex-managerlaidhandtotheleverandpushedit

gently,ashethought.Itworkedmucheasierthanheimagined,however,withtheresultthatthecarjerkedquicklyforward,throwinghimbackagainstthedoor.Hestraightenedupsheepishly,whiletheinstructorstoppedthecarwiththebrake.

“Youwanttobecarefulaboutthat,”wasallhesaid.

Hurstwoodfound,however,thathandlingabrakeandregulatingspeedwerenotsoinstantlymasteredashehadimagined.Onceortwicehewouldhaveploughedthroughtherearfenceifithadnotbeenforthehandandwordofhiscompanion.Thelatterwasratherpatientwithhim,butheneversmiled.

“You’vegottogettheknackofworkingbotharmsatonce,”hesaid.“Ittakesalittlepractice.”

Oneo’clockcamewhilehewasstillonthecarpracticing,andhebegantofeelhungry.Thedaysetinsnowing,andhewascold.Hegrewwearyofrunningtoandfroontheshorttrack.

Theyranthecartotheendandbothgotoff.Hurstwoodwentintothebarnandsoughtacarstep,pullingouthispaperwrappedlunchfromhispocket.Therewasnowaterandthebreadwasdry,butheenjoyedit.Therewasnoceremonyaboutdining.Heswallowedandlookedabout,contemplatingthedull,homelylaborofthething.Itwasdisagreeable—miserablydisagreeable—inallitsphases.Notbecauseitwasbitter,butbecauseitwashard.Itwouldbehardtoanyone,hethought.

Aftereating,hestoodaboutasbefore,waitinguntilhisturncame.

Theintentionwastogivehimanafternoonofpractice,butthegreaterpartofthetimewasspentinwaitingabout.

Atlasteveningcame,andwithithungerandadebatewithhimselfastohowheshouldspendthenight.Itwashalf-pastfive.Hemustsooneat.Ifhetriedtogohome,itwouldtakehimtwohoursandahalfofcoldwalkingandriding.Besideshehadorderstoreportatseventhenextmorning,andgoinghomewouldnecessitatehisrisingatanunholyanddisagreeablehour.HehadonlysomethinglikeadollarandfifteencentsofCarrie’smoney,withwhichhehadintendedtopaythetwoweeks’coalbillbeforethepresentideastruckhim.

“Theymusthavesomeplacearoundhere,”hethought.“WheredoesthatfellowfromNewarkstay.”

Finallyhedecidedtoask.Therewasayoungfellowstandingnearoneofthedoorsinthecold,waitingalastturn.Hewasamereboyinyears—twenty-oneabout—butwithabodylankandlong,becauseofprivation.Alittlegoodlivingwouldhavemadethisyouthplumpandswaggering.

“Howdotheyarrangethis,ifamanhasn’tanymoney.”inquiredHurstwood,discreetly.

Thefellowturnedakeen,watchfulfaceontheinquirer.

“Youmeaneat.”hereplied.

“Yes,andsleep.Ican’tgobacktoNewYorkto-night.”

“Theforeman’llfixthatifyouaskhim,Iguess.Hedidme.”

“Thatso.”

“Yes.IjusttoldhimIdidn’thaveanything.Gee,Icouldn’tgohome.IlivewayoverinHoboken.”

Hurstwoodonlyclearedhisthroatbywayofacknowledgment.

“They’vegotaplaceupstairshere,Iunderstand.Idon’tknowwhatsortofathingitis.Purtytough,Iguess.Hegavemeamealticketthisnoon.Iknowthatwasn’tmuch.”

Hurstwoodsmiledgrimly,andtheboylaughed.

“Itain’tnofun,isit.”heinquired,wishingvainlyforacheeryreply.

“Notmuch,”answeredHurstwood.

“I’dtacklehimnow,”volunteeredtheyouth.“Hemaygo‘way.”

Hurstwooddidso.

“Isn’ttheresomeplaceIcanstayaroundhereto-night.”heinquired.“IfIhavetogobacktoNewYork,I’mafraidIwon’t”

“There’resomecotsupstairs,”interruptedtheman,“ifyouwantoneofthem.”

“That’lldo,”heassented.

Hemeanttoaskforamealticket,buttheseeminglypropermomentnevercame,andhedecidedtopayhimselfthatnight.

“I’llaskhiminthemorning.”

Heateinacheaprestaurantinthevicinity,and,beingcoldandlonely,wentstraightofftoseektheloftinquestion.Thecompanywasnotattemptingtoruncarsafternightfall.Itwassoadvisedbythepolice.

Theroomseemedtohavebeenaloungingplacefornightworkers.Thereweresomeninecotsintheplace,twoorthreewoodenchairs,asoapbox,andasmall,round-belliedstove,inwhichafirewasblazing.Earlyashewas,anothermanwastherebeforehim.Thelatterwassittingbesidethestovewarminghishands.

Hurstwoodapproachedandheldouthisowntowardthefire.Hewassickofthebarenessandprivationofallthingsconnectedwithhisventure,butwassteelinghimselftoholdout.Hefanciedhecouldforawhile.

“Cold,isn’tit.”saidtheearlyguest.

“Rather.”

Alongsilence.

“Notmuchofaplacetosleepin,isit.”saidtheman.

“Betterthannothing,”repliedHurstwood.

Anothersilence.

“IbelieveI’llturnin,”saidtheman.

Rising,hewenttooneofthecotsandstretchedhimself,removingonlyhisshoes,andpullingtheoneblanketanddirtyoldcomforteroverhiminasortofbundle.ThesightdisgustedHurstwood,buthedidnotdwellonit,choosingtogazeintothestoveandthink

ofsomethingelse.Presentlyhedecidedtoretire,andpickedacot,alsoremovinghisshoes.

Whilehewasdoingso,theyouthwhohadadvisedhimtocomehereentered,and,seeingHurstwood,triedtobegenial.

“Better’nnothin’,”heobserved,lookingaround.

Hurstwooddidnottakethistohimself.Hethoughtittobeanexpressionofindividualsatisfaction,andsodidnotanswer.Theyouthimaginedhewasoutofsorts,andsettowhistlingsoftly.Seeinganothermanasleep,hequitthatandlapsedintosilence.

Hurstwoodmadethebestofabadlotbykeepingonhisclothesandpushingawaythedirtycoveringfromhishead,butatlasthedozedinsheerweariness.Thecoveringbecamemoreandmorecomfortable,itscharacterwasforgotten,andhepulleditabouthisneckandslept.Inthemorninghewasarousedoutofapleasantdreambyseveralmenstirringaboutinthecold,cheerlessroom.HehadbeenbackinChicagoinfancy,inhisowncomfortablehome.Jessicahadbeenarrangingtogosomewhere,andhehadbeentalkingwithheraboutit.Thiswassoclearinhismind,thathewasstartlednowbythecontrastofthisroom.Heraisedhishead,andthecold,bitterrealityjarredhimintowakefulness.

“GuessI’dbettergetup,”hesaid.

Therewasnowateronthisfloor.Heputonhisshoesinthecoldandstoodup,shakinghimselfinhisstiffness.Hisclothesfeltdisagreeable,hishairbad.

“Hell!”hemuttered,asheputonhishat.

Downstairsthingswerestirringagain.

Hefoundahydrant,withatroughwhichhadoncebeenusedforhorses,buttherewasnotowelhere,andhishandkerchiefwassoiledfromyesterday.Hecontentedhimselfwithwettinghiseyeswiththeice-coldwater.Thenhesoughttheforeman,whowasalreadyontheground.

“Hadyourbreakfastyet.”inquiredthatworthy.

“No,”saidHurstwood.

“Bettergetit,then;yourcarwon’tbereadyforalittlewhile.”

Hurstwoodhesitated.

“Couldyouletmehaveamealticket.”heaskedwithaneffort.

“Hereyouare,”saidtheman,handinghimone.

Hebreakfastedaspoorlyasthenightbeforeonsomefriedsteakandbadcoffee.Thenhewentback.

“Here,”saidtheforeman,motioninghim,whenhecamein.“Youtakethiscaroutinafewminutes.”

Hurstwoodclimbedupontheplatforminthegloomybarnandwaitedforasignal.Hewasnervous,andyetthethingwasarelief.Anythingwasbetterthanthebarn.

Onthisthefourthdayofthestrike,thesituationhadtakenaturnfortheworse.Thestrikers,followingthecounseloftheirleadersandthenewspapers,hadstruggledpeaceablyenough.Therehadbeennogreatviolencedone.Carshadbeenstopped,itistrue,andthemenarguedwith.Somecrewshadbeenwonoverandledaway,somewindowsbroken,somejeeringandyellingdone;butinnomorethanfiveorsixinstanceshadmenbeenseriouslyinjured.Thesebycrowdswhoseactstheleadersdisclaimed.

Idleness,however,andthesightofthecompany,backedbythepolice,triumphing,angeredthemen.Theysawthateachdaymorecarsweregoingon,eachdaymoredeclarationswerebeingmadebythecompanyofficialsthattheeffectiveoppositionofthestrikerswasbroken.Thisputdesperatethoughtsinthemindsofthemen.Peacefulmethodsmeant,theysaw,thatthecompanieswouldsoonrunalltheircarsandthosewhohadcomplainedwouldbeforgotten.Therewasnothingsohelpfultothecompaniesaspeacefulmethods.Allatoncetheyblazedforth,andforaweektherewasstormandstress.Carswereassailed,menattacked,policemenstruggledwith,trackstornup,andshotsfired,untilatlaststreetfightsandmobmovementsbecamefrequent,andthecitywasinvestedwithmilitia.

Hurstwoodknewnothingofthechangeoftemper.

“Runyourcarout,”calledtheforeman,wavingavigoroushandathim.Agreenconductorjumpedupbehindandrangthebelltwiceasasignaltostart.Hurstwoodturnedtheleverandranthecaroutthroughthedoorintothestreetinfrontofthebarn.Heretwobrawnypolicemengotupbesidehimontheplatform—oneoneitherhand.

Atthesoundofagongnearthebarndoor,twobellsweregivenbytheconductorandHurstwoodopenedhislever.

Thetwopolicemenlookedaboutthemcalmly.

“’Tiscold,allright,thismorning,”saidtheoneontheleft,whopossessedarichbrogue.

“Ihadenoughofityesterday,”saidtheother.“Iwouldn’twantasteadyjobofthis.”

“NorI.”

NeitherpaidtheslightestattentiontoHurstwood,whostoodfacingthecoldwind,whichwaschillinghimcompletely,andthinkingofhisorders.

“Keepasteadygait,”theforemanhadsaid.“Don’tstopforanyonewhodoesn’tlooklikearealpassenger.Whateveryoudo,don’tstopforacrowd.”

Thetwoofficerskeptsilentforafewmoments.

“Thelastmanmusthavegonethroughallright,”saidtheofficerontheleft.“Idon’tseehiscaranywhere.”

“Who’sonthere.”askedthesecondofficer,referring,ofcourse,toitscomplementofpolicemen.

“SchaefferandRyan.”

Therewasanothersilence,inwhichthecarransmoothlyalong.Therewerenotsomanyhousesalongthispartoftheway.Hurstwooddidnotseemanypeopleeither.Thesituationwasnotwhollydisagreeabletohim.Ifhewerenotsocold,hethoughthewoulddowellenough.

Hewasbroughtoutofthisfeelingbythesuddenappearanceofacurveahead,whichhehadnotexpected.Heshutoffthecurrentanddidanenergeticturnatthebrake,butnotintimetoavoidanunnaturallyquickturn.Itshookhimupandmadehimfeellikemakingsomeapologeticremarks,butherefrained.

“Youwanttolookoutforthemthings,”saidtheofficerontheleft,condescendingly.

“That’sright,”agreedHurstwood,shamefacedly.

“There’slotsofthemonthisline,”saidtheofficerontheright.Aroundthecorneramorepopulatedwayappeared.Oneortwopedestrianswereinviewahead.AboycomingoutofagatewithatinmilkbucketgaveHurstwoodhisfirstobjectionablegreeting.

“Scab!”heyelled.“Scab!”

Hurstwoodheardit,buttriedtomakenocomment,eventohimself.Heknewhewouldgetthat,andmuchmoreofthesamesort,probably.

Atacornerfartherupamanstoodbythetrackandsignaledthecartostop.

“Nevermindhim,”saidoneoftheofficers.“He’suptosomegame.”

Hurstwoodobeyed.Atthecornerhesawthewisdomofit.Nosoonerdidthemanperceivetheintentiontoignorehim,thanheshookhisfist.

“Ah,youbloodycoward!”heyelled.

Somehalfdozenmen,standingonthecorner,flungtauntsandjeersafterthespeedingcar.

Hurstwoodwincedtheleastbit.Therealthingwasslightlyworsethanthethoughtsofithadbeen.

Nowcameinsight,threeorfourblocksfartheron,aheapofsomethingonthetrack.

“They’vebeenatwork,here,allright,”saidoneofthepolicemen.

“We’llhaveanargument,maybe,”saidtheother.

Hurstwoodranthecarcloseandstopped.He

hadnotdonesowholly,however,beforeacrowdgatheredabout.Itwascomposedofex-motormenandconductorsinpart,withasprinklingoffriendsandsympathizers.

“Comeoffthecar,pardner,”saidoneofthemeninavoicemeanttobeconciliatory.“Youdon’twanttotakethebreadoutofanotherman’smouth,doyou.”

Hurstwoodheldtohisbrakeandlever,paleandveryuncertainwhattodo.

“Standback,”yelledoneoftheofficers,leaningovertheplatformrailing.“Clearoutofthis,now.Givethemanachancetodohiswork.”

“Listen,pardner,”saidtheleader,ignoringthepolicemanandaddressingHurstwood.“We’reallworkingmen,likeyourself.Ifyouwerearegularmotorman,andhadbeentreatedaswe’vebeen,youwouldn’twantanyonetocomeinandtakeyourplace,wouldyou.Youwouldn’twantanyonetodoyououtofyourchancetogetyourrights,wouldyou.”

“Shutheroff!shutheroff!”urgedtheotherofthepolicemen,roughly.“Getoutofthis,now,”andhejumpedtherailingandlandedbeforethecrowdandbeganshoving.Instantlytheotherofficerwasdownbesidehim.

“Standback,now,”theyyelled.“Getoutofthis.Whatthehelldoyoumean.Out,now.”

Itwaslikeasmallswarmofbees.

“Don’tshoveme,”saidoneofthestrikers,determinedly.“I’mnotdoinganything.”

“Getoutofthis!”criedtheofficer,swinginghisclub.“I’llgiveyeabatonthesconce.Back,now.”

“Whatthehell!”criedanotherofthestrikers,pushingtheotherway,addingatthesametimesomelustyoaths.

Crackcameanofficer’sclubonhisforehead.Heblinkedhiseyesblindlyafewtimes,wobbledonhislegs,threwuphishands,andstaggeredback.Inreturn,aswiftfistlandedontheofficer’sneck.

Infuriatedbythis,thelatterplungedleftandright,layingaboutmadlywithhisclub.Hewasablyassistedbyhisbrotheroftheblue,whopouredponderousoathsuponthetroubledwaters.Noseveredamagewasdone,owingtotheagilityofthestrikersinkeepingoutofreach.Theystoodaboutthesidewalknowandjeered.

“Whereistheconductor.”yelledoneoftheofficers,gettinghiseyeonthatindividual,whohadcomenervouslyforwardtostandbyHurstwood.Thelatterhadstoodgazinguponthescenewithmoreastonishmentthanfear.

“Whydon’tyoucomedownhereandgetthesestonesoffthetrack.”inquiredtheofficer.“Whatyoustandingtherefor.Doyouwanttostayhereallday.Getdown.”

Hurstwoodbreathedheavilyinexcitementandjumpeddownwiththenervousconductorasifhehadbeencalled.

“Hurryup,now,”saidtheotherpoliceman.

Coldasitwas,theseofficerswerehotandmad.Hurstwoodworkedwiththeconductor,liftingstoneafterstoneandwarminghimselfbythework.

“Ah,youscab,you!”yelledthecrowd.“Youcoward!Stealaman’sjob,willyou.Robthepoor,willyou,youthief.We’llgetyouyet,now.Wait.”

Notallofthiswasdeliveredbyoneman.Itcamefromhereandthere,incorporatedwithmuchmoreofthesamesortandcurses.

“Work,youblackguards,”yelledavoice.“Dothedirtywork.You’rethesuckersthatkeepthepoorpeopledown!”

“MayGodstarveyeyet,”yelledanoldIrishwoman,whonowthrewopenanearbywindowandstuckoutherhead.

“Yes,andyou,”sheadded,catchingtheeyeofoneofthepolicemen.“Youbloody,murtherin’thafe!Crackmysonoverthehead,willyou,youhardhearted,murtherin’divil.Ah,ye—”

Buttheofficerturnedadeafear.

“Gotothedevil,youoldhag,”hehalfmutteredashestaredrounduponthescatteredcompany.

Nowthestoneswereoff,andHurstwoodtookhisplaceagainamidacontinuedchorusofepithets.Bothofficersgotupbesidehimandtheconductorrangthebell,when,bang!bang!throughwindowanddoorcamerocksandstones.OnenarrowlygrazedHurstwood’shead.Anothershatteredthewindowbehind.

“Throwopenyourlever,”yelledoneoftheofficers,grabbingatthehandlehimself.

Hurstwoodcompliedandthecarshotaway,followedbyarattleofstonesandarainofcurses.

“That—hitmeintheneck,”saidoneoftheofficers.“Igavehimagoodcrackforit,though.”

“IthinkImusthaveleftspotsonsomeofthem,”saidtheother.

“Iknowthatbigguythatcalledusa—”saidthefirst.“I’llgethimyetforthat.”

“Ithoughtwewereinforitsure,oncethere,”saidthesecond.

Hurstwood,warmedandexcited,gazedsteadilyahead.Itwasanastonishingexperienceforhim.Hehadreadofthesethings,buttherealityseemedsomethingaltogethernew.Hewasnocowardinspirit.Thefactthathehadsufferedthismuchnowratheroperatedtoarouseastoliddeterminationtostickitout.HedidnotrecurinthoughttoNewYorkortheflat.Thisonetripseemedaconsumingthing.

TheynowranintothebusinessheartofBrooklynuninterrupted.PeoplegazedatthebrokenwindowsofthecarandatHurstwoodinhisplainclothes.Voicescalled“scab”nowandthen,aswellasotherepithets,butnocrowdattackedthecar.Atthedowntownendoftheline,oneoftheofficerswenttocalluphisstationandreportthetrouble.

“There’sagangoutthere,”hesaid,“layingforusyet.Bettersendsomeoneoverthereandcleanthemout.”

Thecarranbackmorequietly—hooted,watched,flungat,butnotattacked.Hurstwoodbreathedfreelywhenhesawthebarns.

“Well,”heobservedtohimself,“Icameoutofthatallright.”

Thecarwasturnedinandhewasallowedtoloafawhile,butlaterhewasagaincalled.Thistimeanewteamofofficerswasaboard.Slightlymoreconfident,hespedthecaralongthecommonplacestreetsandfeltsomewhatlessfearful.Ononeside,however,hesufferedintensely.Thedaywasraw,withasprinklingofsnowandagustywind,madeallthemoreintolerablebythespeedofthecar.Hisclothingwasnotintendedforthissortofwork.Heshivered,stampedhisfeet,andbeathisarmsashehadseenothermotormendointhepast,butsaidnothing.Thenoveltyanddangerofthesituationmodifiedinawayhisdisgustanddistressatbeingcompelledtobehere,butnotenoughtopreventhimfromfeelinggrimandsour.Thiswasadog’slife,hethought.Itwasatoughthingtohavetocometo.

TheonethoughtthatstrengthenedhimwastheinsultofferedbyCarrie.Hewasnotdownsolowastotakeallthat,hethought.Hecoulddosomething—this,even—forawhile.Itwouldgetbetter.Hewouldsavealittle.

Aboythrewaclodofmudwhilehewasthusreflectingandhithimuponthearm.Ithurtsharplyandangeredhimmorethanhehadbeenanytimesincemorning.

“Thelittlecur!”hemuttered.

“Hurtyou.”askedoneofthepolicemen.

“No,”heanswered.

Atoneofthecorners,wherethecarslowedupbecauseofaturn,anex-motorman,standingonthe

sidewalk,calledtohim:

“Won’tyoucomeout,pardner,andbeaman.Rememberwe’refightingfordecentday’swages,that’sall.We’vegotfamiliestosupport.”Themanseemedmostpeaceablyinclined.

Hurstwoodpretendednottoseehim.Hekepthiseyesstraightonbeforeandopenedtheleverwide.Thevoicehadsomethingappealinginit.

Allmorningthiswentonandlongintotheafternoon.Hemadethreesuchtrips.Thedinnerhehadwasnostayforsuchworkandthecoldwastellingonhim.Ateachendofthelinehestoppedtothawout,buthecouldhavegroanedattheanguishofit.Oneofthebarnmen,outofpity,loanedhimaheavycapandapairofsheepskingloves,andforoncehewasextremelythankful.

Onthesecondtripoftheafternoonheranintoacrowdabouthalfwayalongtheline,thathadblockedthecar’sprogresswithanoldtelegraphpole.

“Getthatthingoffthetrack,”shoutedthetwopolicemen.

“Yah,yah,yah!”yelledthecrowd.“Getitoffyourself.”

ThetwopolicemengotdownandHurstwoodstartedtofollow.

“Youstaythere,”onecalled.“Someonewillrunawaywithyourcar.”

Amidthebabbleofvoices,Hurstwoodheardoneclosebesidehim.

“Comedown,pardner,andbeaman.Don’tfightthepoor.Leavethattothecorporations.”

Hesawthesamefellowwhohadcalledtohimfromthecorner.Now,asbefore,hepretendednottohearhim.

“Comedown,”themanrepeatedgently.“Youdon’twanttofightpoormen.Don’tfightatall.”ItwasamostphilosophicandJesuiticalmotorman.

Athirdpolicemanjoinedtheothertwofromsomewhereandsomeonerantotelephoneformoreofficers.Hurstwoodgazedabout,determinedbutfearful.

Amangrabbedhimbythecoat.

“Comeoffofthat,”heexclaimed,jerkingathimandtryingtopullhimovertherailing.

“Letgo,”saidHurstwood,savagely.

“I’llshowyou—youscab!”criedayoungIrishman,jumpinguponthecarandaimingablowatHurstwood.Thelatterduckedandcaughtitontheshoulderinsteadofthejaw.

“Awayfromhere,”shoutedanofficer,hasteningtotherescue,andadding,ofcourse,theusualoaths.

Hurstwoodrecoveredhimself,paleandtrembling.Itwasbecomingseriouswithhimnow.Peoplewerelookingupandjeeringathim.Onegirlwasmakingfaces.

Hebegantowaverinhisresolution,whenapatrolwagonrolledupandmoreofficersdismounted.Nowthetrackwasquicklyclearedandthereleaseeffected.

“Lethergonow,quick,”saidtheofficer,andagainhewasoff.

Theendcamewitharealmob,whichmetthecaronitsreturntripamileortwofromthebarns.Itwasanexceedinglypoorlookingneighborhood.Hewantedtorunfastthroughit,butagainthetrackwasblocked.Hesawmencarryingsomethingouttoitwhenhewasyetahalf-dozenblocksaway.

“Theretheyareagain!”exclaimedonepoliceman.

“I’llgivethemsomethingthistime,”saidthesecondofficer,whosepatiencewasbecomingworn.Hurstwoodsufferedaqualmofbodyasthecarrolledup.Asbefore,thecrowdbeganhooting,butnow,ratherthancomenear,theythrewthings.OneortwowindowsweresmashedandHurstwooddodgedastone.

Bothpolicemenranouttowardthecrowd,butthelatterrepliedbyrunningtowardthecar.Awoman—a

meregirlinappearance-wasamongthese,bearingaroughstick.ShewasexceedinglywrathfulandstruckatHurstwood,whododged.Thereupon,hercompanions,dulyencouraged,jumpedonthecarandpulledHurstwoodover.Hehadhardlytimetospeakorshoutbeforehefell.

“Letgoofme,”hesaid,fallingonhisside.

“Ah,yousucker,”heheardsomeonesay.Kicksandblowsrainedonhim.Heseemedtobesuffocating.Thentwomenseemedtobedragginghimoffandhewrestledforfreedom.

“Letup,”saidavoice,“you’reallright.Standup.”

Hewasletlooseandrecoveredhimself.Nowherecognizedtwoofficers.Hefeltasifhewouldfaintfromexhaustion.Somethingwaswetonhischin.Heputuphishandandfelt,thenlooked.Itwasred.

“Theycutme,”hesaid,foolishly,fishingforhishandkerchief.

“Now,now,”saidoneoftheofficers.“It’sonlyascratch.”

Hissensesbecameclearednowandhelookedaround.Hewasstandinginalittlestore,wheretheylefthimforthemoment.Outside,hecouldsee,ashestoodwipinghischin,thecarandtheexcitedcrowd.Apatrolwagonwasthere,andanother.

Hewalkedoverandlookedout.Itwasanambulance,backingin.

Hesawsomeenergeticchargingbythepoliceandarrestsbeingmade.

“Comeon,now,ifyouwanttotakeyourcar,”saidanofficer,openingthedoorandlookingin.Hewalkedout,feelingratheruncertainofhimself.Hewasverycoldandfrightened.

“Where’stheconductor.”heasked.

“Oh,he’snotherenow,”saidthepoliceman.

Hurstwoodwenttowardthecarandsteppednervouslyon.Ashedidsotherewasapistolshot.Somethingstunghisshoulder.

“Whofiredthat.”heheardanofficerexclaim.“ByGod!whodidthat.”Bothlefthim,runningtowardacertainbuilding.Hepausedamomentandthengotdown.

“George!”exclaimedHurstwood,weakly,“thisistoomuchforme.”

Hewalkednervouslytothecornerandhurrieddownasidestreet.

“Whew!”hesaid,drawinginhisbreath.

Ahalfblockaway,asmallgirlgazedathim.

“You’dbettersneak,”shecalled.

Hewalkedhomewardinablindingsnowstorm,reachingtheferrybydusk.Thecabinswerefilledwithcomfortablesouls,whostudiedhimcuriously.Hisheadwasstillinsuchawhirlthathefeltconfused.Allthewonderofthetwinklinglightsoftheriverinawhitestormpassedfornothing.Hetrudgeddoggedlyonuntilhereachedtheflat.Thereheenteredandfoundtheroomwarm.Carriewasgone.Acoupleofeveningpaperswerelyingonthetablewheresheleftthem.Helitthegasandsatdown.Thenhegotupandstrippedtoexaminehisshoulder.Itwasamerescratch.Hewashedhishandsandface,stillinabrownstudy,apparently,andcombedhishair.Thenhelookedforsomethingtoeat,andfinally,hishungergone,satdowninhiscomfortablerocking-chair.Itwasawonderfulrelief.

Heputhishandtohischin,forgetting,forthemoment,thepapers.

“Well,”hesaid,afteratime,hisnaturerecoveringitself,“that’saprettytoughgameoverthere.”

Thenheturnedandsawthepapers.Withhalfasighhepickedupthe“World.”

“StrikeSpreadinginBrooklyn,”heread.“RiotingBreaksOutinallPartsoftheCity.”

Headjustedhispaperverycomfortablyandcontinued.Itwastheonethinghereadwithabsorbinginterest.