The next morning while Farnham was at breakfast he received a note from
Mr. Temple in these words:
"Strikes will begin to-day, but will not be general. There will be no
disturbance, I think. They don't seem very gritty."
After breakfast he walked down to the City Hall. On every street corner
he saw little groups of men in rather listless conversation. He met an
acquaintance crossing the street.
"Have you heard the news?" The man's face was flushed with pleasure at
having something to tell--"The firemen and stokers have all struck, and
run their engines into the round-house at Riverley, five miles out.
There won't be a train leave or come in for the present."
"Is that all?"
"No, that ain't a start. The Model Oil men have struck, and are all
over the North End, shutting up the other shops. They say there won't
be a lick of work done in town the rest of the week."
"Except what Satan finds for idle hands," Farnham suggested, and
hastened his steps a little to the municipal buildings.
He found the chief of police in his office, suffering from nervousness
and a sense of importance. He began by reminding him of the occurrence
of the week before in the wood. The chief waited with an absent
expression for the story to end, and then said, "My dear sir, I cannot
pay any attention to such little matters with anarchy threatening our
city. I must protect life and property, sir--life and property."
"Very well," rejoined Farnham, "I am informed that life and property
are threatened in my own neighborhood. Can you detail a few policemen
to patrol Algonquin Avenue, in case of a serious disturbance?"
"I can't tell you, my dear sir; I will do the best I can by all
sections. Why, man," he cried, in a voice which suddenly grew a shrill
falsetto in his agitation, "I tell you I haven't a policeman for every
ten miles of street in this town. I can't spare but two for my own
house!"
Farnham saw the case was hopeless, and went to the office of the mayor.
That official had assumed an attitude expressive of dignified and
dauntless energy. He sat in a chair tilted back on its hind feet; the
boots of the municipal authority were on a desk covered with official
papers; a long cigar adorned his eloquent lips; a beaver hat shaded his
eyes.
He did not change his attitude as Farnham entered. He probably thought
it could not be changed for the better.
"Good-morning, Mr. Quinlin."
"Good-morning, sirr, to you." This salutation was uttered through teeth
shut as tightly as the integrity of the cigar would permit.
"There is a great deal of talk of possible disturbance to-night, in
case the strikes extend. My own neighborhood, I am told, has been
directly threatened. I called to ask whether, in case of trouble, I
could rely on any assistance from the city authorities, or whether we
must all look out for ourselves."
The mayor placed his thumbs in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, and
threw his head back so that he could stare at Farnham from below his
hat brim. He then said, in a measured voice, as if addressing an
assembly: "Sirr! I would have you to know that the working-men of
Buffland are not thieves and robbers. In this struggle with capital
they have my profound sympathy. I expect their conduct to be that of
perr-fect gentlemen. I, at least, will give no orders which may tend to
array one class of citizens against another. That is my answer, sirr; I
hope it does not disappoint you."
"Not in the least," said Farnham, putting on his hat. "It is precisely
what I should have expected of you."
"Thank you, sirr. Call again, sirr."
As Farnham disappeared, the chief magistrate of the city tilted his hat
to one side, shut an eye with profoundly humorous significance, and
said to the two or three loungers who had been enjoying the scene:
"That is the sort of T-rail I am. That young gentleman voted agin me,
on the ground I wasn't high-toned enough."
Farnham walked rapidly to the office of the evening newspaper. He found
a man in the counting-room, catching flies and trimming their wings
with a large pair of office shears. He said, "Can you put an
advertisement for me in your afternoon editions?"
The man laid down his shears, but held on to his fly, and looked at his
watch.
"Have you got it ready?"
"No, but I will not be a minute about it."
"Be lively! You haven't got but a minute."
He picked up his scissors and resumed his surgery, while Farnham wrote
his advertisement. The man took it, and threw it into a tin box, blew a
whistle, and the box disappeared through a hole in the ceiling. A few
minutes later the boys were crying the paper in the streets. The
advertisement was in these words:
"Veterans, Attention! All able-bodied veterans of the Army of the
Potomac, and especially of the Third Army Corps, are requested to meet
at seven this evening, at No. -- Public Square."
From the newspaper office Farnham went to a gunsmith's. The dealer was
a German and a good sportsman, whom Farnham knew very well, having
often shot with him in the marshes west of the city. His name was
Leopold Grosshammer. There were two or three men in the place when
Farnham entered. He waited until they were gone, and then said:
"Bolty, have you two dozen repeating rifles?"
"Ja wohl! Aber, Herr Gott, was machen Sie denn damit?"
"I don't know why I shouldn't tell you. They think there may be a riot
in town, and they tell me at the City Hall that everybody must look out
for himself. I am going to try to get up a little company of old
soldiers for patrol duty."
"All right, mine captain, and I will be the first freiwilliger. But I
don't dink you wants rifles. Revolvers and clubs--like the pleecemen--
dat's de dicket."
"Have you got them?"
"Oh, yes, and the belts thereto. I got der gondract to furnish 'em to
de city."
"Then you will send them, wrapped up in bundles, to my office in the
Square, and come yourself there at seven."
"Freilich," said Leopold, his white teeth glistening through his yellow
beard at the prospect of service.
Farnham spent an hour or two visiting the proprietors of the large
establishments affected by the strikes. He found, as a rule, great
annoyance and exasperation, but no panic. Mr. Temple said, "The
poor ------ fools! I felt sorry for them. They came up here to me this
morning,--their committee, they called it,--and told me they hated it,
but it was orders! 'Orders from where?' I asked. 'From the chiefs of
sections,' they said; and that was all I could get out of them. Some of
the best fellows in the works were on the committee. They put 'em there
on purpose. The sneaks and lawyers hung back."
"What will they do if the strike should last?" asked Farnham.
"They will be supported for awhile by the other mills. Our men are the
only ones that have struck so far. They were told off to make the move,
just as they march out a certain regiment to charge a battery. If we
give in, then another gang will strike."
"Do you expect to give in?"
"Between us, we want nothing better than ten days' rest. We want to
repair our furnaces, and we haven't a ---- thing to do. What I told you
this morning holds good. There won't be any riot. The whole thing is
solemn fooling, so far."
The next man Farnham saw was in a far less placid frame of mind. It was
Jimmy Nelson, the largest grocer in the city. He had a cargo of
perishable groceries at the station, and the freight hands would not
let them be delivered. "I talked to the rascals," he said. "I asked
them what they had against _me_; that they was injuring Trade!" a deity
of which Mr. Nelson always spoke with profound respect. "They laughed
in my face, sir. They said, 'That's just our racket. We want to squeeze
you respectable merchants till you get mad and hang a railroad
president or two!' Yes, sir; they said that to me, and five thousand
dollars of my stuff rotting in the depot."
"Why don't you go to the mayor?" asked Farnham, though he could not
suppress a smile as he said it.
"Yes, I like that!" screamed Jimmy. "You are laughing at me. I suppose
the whole town has heard of it. Well, it's a fact. I went and asked
that infernal scoundrel what he was going to do. He said his function
was to keep the peace, and there wasn't a word in the statutes about
North Carliny water-melons. If I live till he gets out of office, I'll
lick him."
"Oh, I think you won't do that, Jimmy."
"You think I won't!" said Nelson, absolutely incandescent with the
story of his wrongs. "I'll swear by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, that
I will thrash the hide off him next spring--if I don't forget it."
Farnham went home, mounted his horse, and rode about the city to see
what progress the strike was making. There was little disorder visible
on the surface of things. The "sections" had evidently not ordered a
general cessation of labor; and yet there were curious signs of
demoralization, as if the spirit of work was partially disintegrating
and giving way to something not precisely lawless, but rather listless.
For instance, a crowd of workmen were engaged industriously and, to all
appearance, contentedly upon a large school-building in construction. A
group of men, not half their number, approached them and ordered them
to leave off work. The builders looked at each other and then at their
exhorters in a confused fashion for a moment, and ended by obeying the
summons in a sullen and indifferent manner. They took off their aprons,
went to the hydrant and washed their hands, then put on their coats and
went home in silence and shamefacedness, amid the angry remonstrances
of the master-builder. A little farther on Farnham saw what seemed like
a burlesque of the last performance. Several men were at work in a hole
in the street; the tops of their heads were just visible above the
surface. A half-grown, ruffianly boy, with a boot-black's box slung
over his shoulder, came up and shouted, "You ---- ---- rats, come out
of that, or we'll knock the scalps off'n you." The men, without even
looking to see the source of the summons, threw down their tools and
got out of the hole. The boy had run away; they looked about for a
moment, as if bewildered, and then one of them, a gray-headed Irishman,
said, "Well, we'd better be a lavin' off, if the rest is," and they all
went away.
In this fashion it came about that by nightfall all the squares and
public places were thronged with an idle and expectant crowd, not
actively mischievous or threatening, but affording a vast mass of
inflammable material in case the fire should start in any quarter. They
gathered everywhere in dense groups, exchanging rumors and surmises, in
which fact and fiction were fantastically mingled.
"The rolling-mills all close to-morrow," said a sallow and hollow-eyed
tailor. "That'll let loose twenty thousand men on the town,--big,
brawny fellows. I'm glad my wife is in Clairfield."
"All you know about it! Clairfield is twice as bad off as here. The
machine shops has all struck there, and the men went through the armory
this afternoon. They're camped all along Delaware street, every man
with a pair of revolvers and a musket."
"You don't say so!" said the schneider, turning a shade more sallow.
"I'd better telegraph my wife to come home."
"I wouldn't hurry," was the impassive response. "You don't know where
we'll be to-morrow. They have been drilling all day at Riverley, three
thousand of 'em. They'll come in to-morrow, mebbe, and hang all the
railroad presidents. That may make trouble."
Through these loitering and talking crowds Farnham made his way in the
evening to the office which he kept, on the public square of the town,
for the transaction of the affairs of his estate. He had given
directions to his clerk to be there, and when he arrived found that
some half-dozen men had already assembled in answer to his
advertisement. Some of them he knew; one, Nathan Kendall, a powerful
young man, originally from the north of Maine, now a machinist in
Buffland, had been at one time his orderly in the army. Bolty
Grosshammer was there, and in a very short time some twenty men were in
the room. Farnham briefly explained to them his intention. "I want
you," he said, "to enlist for a few days' service under my orders. I
cannot tell whether there will be any work to do or not; but it is
likely we shall have a few nights of patrol at least. You will get ten
dollars apiece anyhow, and ordinary day's wages besides. If any of you
get hurt, I will try to have you taken care of."
All but two agreed to the proposition. These two said "they had
families and could not risk their skins. When they saw the
advertisement they had thought it was something about pensions, or the
county treasurer's office. They thought soldiers ought to have the
first chance at good offices." They then grumblingly withdrew.
Farnham kept his men for an hour longer, arranging some details of
organization, and then dismissed them for twenty-four hours, feeling
assured that there would be no disturbance of public tranquillity that
night. "I will meet you here to morrow evening," he said, "and you can
get your pistols and sticks and your final orders."
The men went out one by one, Bolty and Kendall waiting for a while
after they had gone and going out on the sidewalk with Farnham. They
had instinctively appointed themselves a sort of bodyguard to their old
commander, and intended to keep him in sight until he got home. As they
reached the door, they saw a scuffle going on upon the sidewalk. A
well-dressed man was being beaten and kicked by a few rough fellows,
and the crowd was looking on with silent interest. Farnham sprang
forward and seized one of the assailants by the collar; Bolty pulled
away another. The man who had been cuffed turned to Kendall, who was
standing by to help where help was needed, and cried, "Take me away
somewhere; they will have my life;" an appeal which only excited the
jeers of the crowd.
"Kendall, take him into my office," said Farnham, which was done in an
instant, Farnham and Bolty following. A rush was made,--not very
vicious, however,--and the three men got safely inside with their
prize, and bolted the door. A few kicks and blows shook the door, but
there was no movement to break it down; and the rescued man, when he
found himself in safety, walked up to a mirror there was in the room
and looked earnestly at his face. It was a little bruised and bloody,
and dirty with mud, but not seriously injured.
He turned to his rescuers with an air more of condescension than
gratitude. "Gentlemen, I owe you my thanks, although I should have got
the better of those scoundrels in a moment. Can you assist me in
identifying them?"
"Oh! it is Mayor Quinlin, I believe," said Farnham, recognizing that
functionary more by his voice than by his rumpled visage. "No, I do not
know who they were. What was the occasion of this assault?"
"A most cowardly and infamous outrage, sir," said the Mayor. "I was
walking along the sidewalk to me home, and I came upon this gang of
ruffians at your door. Impatient at being delayed,--for my time is much
occupied,--I rebuked them for being in me way. One of them turned to me
and insolently inquired, 'Do you own this street, or have you just got
a lien on it?' which unendurable insult was greeted with a loud laugh
from the other ruffians. I called them by some properly severe name,
and raised me cane to force a passage,--and the rest you know. Now,
gentlemen, is there anything I can do?"
Farnham did not scruple to strike while the iron was hot. He said:
"Yes, there is one thing your Honor may do, not so much for us as for
the cause of order and good government, violated to-night in your own
person. Knowing the insufficiency of the means at your disposal, a few
of us propose to raise a subsidiary night-patrol for the protection of
life and property during the present excitement. We would like you to
give it your official sanction."
"Do I understand it will be without expense to my--to the city
government?" Mr. Quinlin was anxious to make a show of economy in his
annual message.
"Entirely," Farnham assured him.
"It is done, sir. Come to-morrow morning and get what papers you want.
The sperrit of disorder must be met and put down with a bold and
defiant hand. Now, gentlemen, if there is a back door to this
establishment, I will use it to make me way home."
Farnham showed him the rear entrance, and saw him walking homeward up
the quiet street; and, coming back, found Bolty and Kendall writhing
with merriment.
"Well, that beats all," said Kendall. "I guess I'll write home like the
fellow did from Iowa to his daddy, 'Come out here quick. Mighty mean
men gits office in this country.'"
"Yes," assented Bolty. "Dot burgermeister ish better as a circus mit a
drick mule."
"Don't speak disrespectfully of dignitaries," said Farnham. "It's a bad
habit in soldiers."
When they went out on the sidewalk the crowd had dispersed. Farnham
bade his recruits good night and went up the avenue. They waited until
he was a hundred yards away, and then, without a word to each other,
followed him at that distance till they saw him enter his own gate.