AT THE AMERICAN RIVER BRIDGE.
Toward evening B Company received orders to be in readiness to relieve
the company on guard at the bridge over the American river. This was
hailed as glorious news both by those who had already been there and
those who had lived in anticipation of this trip to that paradise of
posts. Even to a stranger the eagerness of the men, as they rolled
their blankets or packed their haversacks, would plainly indicate some
pleasant duty about to be performed. Now, in the minds of many, a grave
question arose, prompting those, at least, who had already served at
the bridge to avoid all collisions with the captain, namely, “Who
should remain behind, in charge of the street and tents?”
Deep was the thought on this vexing subject, when the astounding
news spread through the street that Max Claussenius had volunteered
to remain in charge. Wonderful self-sacrifice! Of all deeds the most
heroic of the campaign!
At six o’clock the upper and lower track guards were relieved, our
boys from the upper guard joining the company as it fell in in heavy
marching order, preparatory to boarding the train for the bridge.
Having received his orders, the Captain led the company to the train,
on which we were quickly hurried off toward the bridge.
[Illustration: LIEUT. MCIVER, U. S. A., MAJ. GEO. R. BURDICK, COL. W.
P. SULLIVAN.]
As the train sped down the line many and great were the efforts of
the boys to “fix it with First Sergeant Ramm,” so that they might be
posted at the most desirable end of the bridge. All seemed to want the
same place, the farther end, which Dame Rumor had declared to be the
better of the three posts. However, despite the most Trojan efforts, no
“fixing” could be done, it having been decided by the powers that be to
make no details until we had reached the bridge, and relieved the old
guard. This having been done, the following details were made up and
announced:
Officer of the day, Captain I. B. Cook.
DETAIL FOR SOUTH SIDE.
Officer of the guard, Lieutenant Filmer; Sergeant W. N. Kelly;
Corporals B. E. Burdick and A. McCulloch.
Privates of the guard, Baumgartner, Frech, Fetz, Heath, Heizman,
Gehret, Overstreet, Perry, Radke, R., Radke, G., Sieberst, V.,
Williams, and Wise.
DETAIL FOR CENTER GUARD.
First Sergeant A. F. Ramm; Lance Corporal W. Unger.
Privates Bannan, Gilkyson, Monahan, O’Brien, and Sindler.
DETAIL FOR NORTH SIDE.
Officer of the guard, Lieutenant Lundquist; Sergeants B. B. Sturdivant
and W. H. Sieberst; Corporals Wilson and Burtis.
Privates of the guard, Adams, Claussenius, Crowley, Flanagan, Gille,
Hayes, Keane, McKaig, Powleson, Stealey, Shula, Tooker, Wear, Wilson,
and Warren.
Sergeant Clifford and Musician Rupp looked after the cuisine, intending
to do the cooking for all three at the camp of the last detail.
The different details having been made, they were sent each to their
respective posts, there to await the arrival of their supper, which was
then in course of preparation. The process was slow, extremely slow,
the trouble with the dishes still continuing. Finally, the cooks, who
had in their hurry entirely lost sight of the center squad, declared
enough to feed the guard at the other end had been cooked. Placing the
rations for seventeen on a handcar, it was dispatched in all haste to
its destination. But when it reached the waiting and watching seventeen
it was reduced to rations for ten. The seven doughty warriors posted in
the center of the bridge had found themselves “between the devil and
the deep blue sea,” and, calling a hasty council, had decided to make
a fight for life. Well knowing the advantage to be on the side of the
party which strikes the first blow, they solemnly agreed to halt that
handcar if it ever came by, demand their rations, and, if none were
forthcoming, help themselves, and send the messengers on; on, it would
seem, to sudden death, could speech of man kill, when the now extremely
slim meal reached those hungry seventeen? Returning, the car came at a
furious pace. It was easy to see that a fire-eating delegation had been
sent down to inquire into the whys and wherefores. But the center squad
cared not. They had dined, and dined sumptuously; and now let “the
devil and the deep blue sea” fight it out between them. A compromise
was finally made between these two by cooking more, and meantime
declaring that “that center squad” had caused all the trouble by not
consenting to be starved, as gentlemen should under such circumstances.
However, to the center squad this did not seem to give full consolation
to the belligerents, as they, the center squad, were most roundly
abused each time a handcar passed.
In the mean time sentries had been posted in reliefs of five men each
at the north end of the bridge, in reliefs of two in the center, and of
four at the south end. The night, cold, a chilly wind blowing steadily
down the river, and whistling through the timbers of the bridge, passed
quietly at each post. On the north side the watches were extended to
three hours, but on the south side and in the center the regulation
two hours on and four off was observed. At about midnight the company
commander made a tour of the guard on a hand-car, signaling with a
lantern as he approached each sentry, whose challenges those on the car
could not hear, and whose very presence those pumping seemed to ignore,
several of the sentries having to spring onto the farthest projecting
tie as the car dashed by, grazing their clothes as it passed.
The usual early morning mistakes were made. On the guard at the north
side Private Joe Keane mistook the morning star, shining, large and
bright, amongst the tops of the swaying trees, for a signal lantern and
was proceeding to shoot the “signaler,” when the man on the next post
assured him of the unfortunate star’s identity.
Much amusement was caused on the south side by Private Perry’s call,
in the early morning, for the corporal of the guard, asking whether
he should shoot a rabbit then in the road, to have, as he expressed
it, “something good for breakfast.” This guard, indeed, seemed to be a
guard of strong sporting propensities. Private Frech of the next relief
was seen, a short while after, crawling along the road, almost on hands
and knees. His observer stood breathless; surely a dynamiting striker
had been discovered. But no; Frech, too, was thinking of that morning’s
breakfast, and, unlike Perry, intended to “shoot first and challenge
afterward.” However, his stalking proved a failure, and, returning
to his more onerous duties, was content, on being relieved, with his
breakfast of bacon, mush, and coffee.
As day broke, the heavy, sultry atmosphere gave promise of a day whose
heat we, camped on the banks of a cool, quiet river, felt we need not
fear. Few, if any, could resist the temptation of a plunge. Every spare
moment was devoted to the river, swimming, wading, plunging, wrestling,
ducking, and racing along the stretches of sandy beach, no schoolboys
could have enjoyed their holiday more.
The heat in Sacramento must have been terrific. Handcar after handcar,
pumped by perspiring humans, who gazed with enraptured eyes on the
river as they drew near, came down the line in a long procession.
As far as food was concerned open warfare had now been declared between
the three guards. Triangular hostilities, in which the small center
squad, but for its extraordinary exertions, appeared sadly in danger
of being worsted. However, they avoided further strife by gaining
possession of their “raw materials,” and then, through Lance Corporal
Unger, doing their own cooking. The squad on the south side did the
same, Private Heizman acting as chef. This did not entirely settle the
question, however. There was our noontide keg of beer; which guard
should send to Sacramento for it? Strife had opened anew between the
center squad and the guard on the south side. Handcars had come down
in such numbers that had a train under escort come through, all could
not be removed from the track in time to avoid a collision. Seeing the
danger, First Sergeant Ramm ordered his sentries to halt all handcars
and call for the corporal of the guard. Shortly after these orders
were issued Private Monahan challenged a carload of men from the south
guard. Not heeding his call, those in front fixed bayonets, and the
others, increasing the speed of their car, rushed at the sentry, who
jumped from the track to the platform to avoid being spitted on the
bayonets. This angered the center squad, who then refused to let any
more from that guard pass without an order from the officer of the
guard. Seeing challenges to be of no avail, the sentry would sit on a
box between the tracks, with his back toward the oncoming car, which
then invariably stopped before striking him. This, then, was the state
of affairs between these two guards when the beer subject was broached.
Each guard declared that they, and none other, should send to town
for the keg, the more violent men from the south side declaring that,
should they send, the center squad need expect but the dregs.
Thus the dispute went on till finally a car from the south guard was
sent for the coveted prize.
This beer was ordered to be given to the men at the beginning of
the campaign by Major Galwey, medical attendant and commander of
the hospital corps of the regiment. He held that more sickness was
caused on July 4th by drinking Sacramento water than by heat, and
consequently, when camp was established, ordered the men to drink
nothing but black coffee, and the beer issued to them at noon each day.
To set the fears of our temperance friends at rest, we will explain
that this was issued in a small five-gallon keg--enough, when carefully
measured, to furnish each man with an ordinary glassful per day. Later
a keg of barley water was kept standing in each camp, and, though not
very palatable, was well patronized during the heat of the day.
Not having sent for the beer our center squad resolved to stop their
rivals as they passed on toward the north guard at all costs. Shortly
before the noon meal was over the sentry on guard called “Here comes
the beer!” Grasping a can in one hand and a log of wood in the other,
Monahan rushed up the track, threw the wood across the rails, and
awaited developments. Rushing along without any apparent slackening
of speed the car struck the log, rose in the air and came down again
on the tracks with the wood jammed between the front and rear wheels,
the car immovable until lifted from the track and the log removed.
Having halted them Monahan had no trouble drawing the beer, paying no
attention to the abuse heaped upon him. Having drawn more than the
proper allowance, we are afraid, he helped them remove the log and sent
them on their way warning them to treat the center squad with more
courtesy in future.
So the day passed. Swimming, disputing, guarding, and sleeping in
turns, we made the most of this our first company “picnic.” No such
opportunity for the perfect enjoyment of camp life had before presented
itself, nor did we expect such another. Our reluctance to leave them
may be imagined when about dusk the usual combination flat-car and day
coach train arrived, bearing our relieving company and ready to carry
us back to our camp in town. Slowly and sadly we climbed on board,
the engine whistled, and, casting longing eyes toward the quickly
disappearing bridge, we were rushed on toward town.
Some time before the company left the bridge our cooks went to camp on
a handcar with the praiseworthy object in view of having the company
meal ready on its arrival. Despite the fact that a member of the
company had been detailed, at his own request, to take charge of the
company street while we were away, no preparation for the company’s
arrival had been made. The street was unclean, the table and benches
were thrown together in a heap, and not even a stick of wood chopped.
What our worthy private could have been doing with himself for the
last twenty-four hours was a mystery to our thoroughly disgusted
cooks. We must be careful to mention, though, that one thing had been
done. The rations had been drawn, and were now tossed in a heap in the
quartermaster’s tent.
Despite the unsatisfactory appearance of things, however, our cooks
managed to have a hot supper ready by the time their hungry comrades
appeared at camp.
Monday, the 16th, was for us of B Company essentially a day of rest. No
guard details were called for, some of our men having already served
forty-eight consecutive hours.
An event of this day, however, served to open our eyes to the awful
depths to which we had fallen; how, as members of society, we had
deteriorated during our short campaign. At dinner on this day Doc
Sieberst, who was acting as waiter, carrying round a pot of stew in one
hand and a ladle in the other, noticed Frank Sindler narrowly scanning
a very doubtful looking plate, before calling for his rations. Stepping
over and looking at the plate, Doc carelessly remarked: “It’s only
dirt.”
“Oh, is that all,” answered Sindler. “Give me some stew,” he resumed,
as he held out the plate, and busily assaulted the meat and potatoes
which Doc ladled out for him.
The evening of this day saw our turn for guard duty come round again.
A guard of thirty privates, three corporals, and a sergeant under
Lieutenant Filmer relieved that on duty at the upper yards. The ground
to be covered by this guard extended from the crossing of Seventh, D,
and the tracks, along the tracks to Sixth and E streets, and thence
along the spur tracks on Sixth street, running in front of the Southern
Pacific foundry, to H street, at the point where the latter street
runs into the China slough or Sutter lake, in all a distance of about
one-third of a mile. Ten sentries were posted at equal distances along
this line, their orders being to allow no person without a written
permit to cross the tracks towards the Southern Pacific buildings, but
not to interfere with any person passing along the open highway on the
opposite side of the tracks. The sentries whose beat brought them near
the corner of any street also received orders to disburse any crowd
gathering on the cross streets.
The night, both in camp and on guard, passed quietly. The men had by
this time become veterans to a certain extent, and each night now saw
them quietly retire to their tents, even before tattoo, all thought of
skylarking and “horse play” apparently left behind at the old camp on
the Capitol grounds.
The onerous guard duty they were now called upon to perform had
perforce caused a change in their spirits since our new camp was
established. Each man was called upon to do forty-eight consecutive
hours of guard duty out of seventy-two. Thus for two days he would
be constantly on duty, managing to snatch in all about four hours’
sleep each night, rolled up in his blanket with his rifle constantly
by his side, not daring to remove even his leggings. The third day,
from six o’clock one evening till six o’clock the next, very naturally
became a day of laziness. Having had only eight hours’ sleep during
the preceding forty-eight, and knowing that the succeeding forty-eight
hours would be but a repetition, it is little wonder that the men
in camp each night, only about one-fourth of the regiment, retired
willingly to their tents at the first beat of the tattoo.
B Company received an accession this evening of three of its members
who had reported at the armory on the night of the third too late to
leave with the regiment, or who failed to receive their orders, namely,
Privates George Bowne, A. B. Snell, and Fred Pariser. On Tuesday
evening Sergeant Taylor and Privates Beseman, Casebolt, and Ungerman
arrived. These were the last arrivals before Companies A and B left for
Truckee.
One arrest was made by this guard. The event occurred in the “wee sma’
hours,” the principal actors being Frech, a featherweight, and one of
Uncle Sam’s children, a giant marine. Frech, catching the marine trying
to sneak across the line after a night’s carouse, facetiously ordered
him to throw up his hands, and then bawled lustily for the “Corporal
of the Guard, No. 6!” The corporal found Frech and his captive holding
quite a heated argument as to the propriety of the rather Black Bart
style in which the marine had been halted, the captive still pointing
to the clouds, under the persuasive powers of the little German’s
Springfield, though threatening dire vengeance, and Frech promising to
“fix it” with the corporal if the marine “would be good.”
At about 6 A. M. the strikers who had returned to work began to arrive,
coming across posts 9 and 10, especially, in such numbers as to require
the assistance of a corporal in examining the passes. The increase in
the number of men who came across each morning seemed to indicate an
approaching stampede in the ranks of the strikers. It could not come
too soon to please us.
The trouble with the subsistence department still continued. Despite
the most frantic efforts of our quartermaster sergeant, we could
neither steal, borrow, nor persuade the commissary department to give
us enough kitchen and table utensils with which to properly feed the
men. Surely, it would seem, sufficient time had elapsed since company
mess was talked of and inaugurated to secure dishes enough to supply
even Emperor William’s army. But doubtless we, the great uninitiated,
cannot appreciate the stupendous amount of work necessary to be done
to supply such an immense army as we, a few hundred men, camped in the
very heart of a large city, constituted. Probably it still continued
to be a “holiday, and the stores closed,” as they told us on the
Fourth, for which weighty reason we had taken in an extra hole or two
in our belts, and consoled ourselves with the knowledge that if we
were hungry, we at least knew the patriotic motives which caused us
to be so. What! Ask a man to open his store on the Fourth of July,
that greatest of all days in the history of our country! Never! Rather
let our patriotic rank and file hunger (we may eat at an hotel) than
desecrate that glorious day by common barter.
“And we praised the little General
And we spoke in better cheer.”
And so the trouble continued. On such days as this, when the company
was divided, no separate rations were issued to the guard; of what
use would it have been? The guard had no means of cooking it. But
full rations for the company were issued at the camp. Though in other
companies we have known this to have been cooked and eaten entirely
by those in camp, no account being taken of their tired and hungry
comrades on duty, in B Company, the best possible, though still very
unsatisfactory, system was in use. Having received the rations the
cooks prepared the meal, if possible, enough for all; if not, enough
for the guard. This, at least, having been prepared, all the available
tin plates, forks, knives, and cups were gathered, and, with the pots
of food, were placed upon a handcar and pumped up the line to the place
at which the guard was located. Here, those not on actual duty finished
their share as quickly as possible, and then went out to relieve the
sentries. These, too, having finished, the now empty utensils were
returned to the handcar and brought back to camp. Here, of course, the
men were by this time rampant, and another scurry would have to be made
to appease their inner man, who seemed to find such loud expression of
his woes.
The afternoon of this day, Tuesday, became so hot that the men on
guard at the tracks felt constrained to organize and set in operation
another shower-bath company; this they succeeded in doing, utilizing a
shady and quiet spot amongst the lumber-piles in the yard, fortunately
very close to a faucet, to which they attached a hose, purloined from,
Heaven and the “taker” only know where.
At 6 o’clock Tuesday evening our guard was relieved, very tired, and
glad to return to camp; though the dust did cover every thing, tents
included, an inch thick, every incautious step raising a cloud which
obscured even the sun.
Now the members of the relieved guard heard for the first time that
Billy Tooker, that prince of hard workers, had that day received a
furlough, and had already gone home. After his departure the work about
camp languished, no man in the company being found who could take
his place and do full justice to the position, as could the former
incumbent. Billy returned to us, though not in time, we are sorry to
say, to accompany us to Truckee.
Tuesday night gave our new arrivals their first experience of a sudden
call for duty. Tattoo had sounded and all the camp was quietly
preparing to retire. Many had already wrapped themselves up in their
blankets and gone to sleep, when suddenly several shots were fired by
a sentry of the camp guard, who was posted just above the camp on the
line of the tracks. Instantly the long roll played by the musicians of
the guard echoed over the camp. Not waiting for orders, the men tumbled
out of their tents, grasping their rifles in one hand and cartridge
belts in the other, and formed in the company streets. Considerations
of dress were put aside, each man thinking himself fully equipped for
fighting if he had on his trousers and belt and his rifle in his hand.
On this, as on the former occasion, the cause of alarm proved but
trivial. Some skulker amongst the fruit-cars had approached the line
of camp sentries too closely, had been seen and promptly challenged.
He escaped by darting round the end of a car and making off down the
tracks. His escape, however, proved on investigation to have been
very narrow. The bullet was found to have passed through the corner
of the car, only half an inch from the open space above the trucks.
The succeeding shots were fired by the sentries down the line, who had
probably caught a fleeting glimpse of the now flying form as he dashed
from one car to another. Others of the shots were doubtlessly fired by
men whose fingers seemed to itch to pull the trigger whenever their
rifle was loaded with ball cartridge.
No more skulkers or probable “angels of destruction” intent on using
“dynamite with discretion” being found, the companies were dismissed,
the men returning to their tents to seek the “arms of Morpheus” until
awakened by the reveille next morning.
This recall from the land of dreams was sounded earlier next morning
than usual. On the day before circulars had been issued by the
management of the railroad company offering work to all who had not
taken an aggressive part in the strike, and as a consequence many were
expected to return to work, while serious trouble was looked for from
the malcontents.
The principal entrance to the shops and yards is from the southeast, at
about Sixth and H streets, to which point the first battalion of the
First Regiment had been ordered to proceed and prevent any violence
while the men were returning to work.
While we all knew what duty we were about to perform, the usual
“joshing” went on in the ranks at the expense of the timid ones. Some
joker professed to have heard that the strikers were going to make an
effort, at last, to try their strength with us, and decide the question
of supremacy for good. This form of joke soon wore out, and we turned
our attention once more to dynamite, that most fruitful theme. We
pretended to have heard that our company alone was about to be ordered
to Reno, where we had heard the strikers were using dynamite “with
and without” discretion--in fact, regulating the amount applied to
each individual soldier in the most careless manner. We decided in the
course of our debate on dynamite and its uses, to which those for whose
benefit the long harangues were given listened with bulging eyes and
chattering teeth, speaking only to ask questions, that death being the
object, dismemberment, thus far an incident, was really unnecessary;
a judicious use of that most costly explosive would fully express
their displeasure at our principles and accomplish the desired result
physically, without unnecessarily mangling our persons, and leave at
least a small chance of collecting a respectable portion of our anatomy
to which to give Christian burial.
Our rather gruesome fun was cut short, however, by the order to march.
We proceeded along the tracks to the point at Sixth and H streets at
which trouble was most likely to occur. None, however, did occur, and
after having made a sufficient display of our strength to those who
gave us a glance in passing, we were quietly returned to our camp and
to our waiting breakfast, a far more important subject of discussion
than strikes, or even dynamite.
During the day a rumor gradually spread that A and B were to be sent
to Truckee, taking ten days’ rations. Here, indeed, was a prospect of
change. How we canvassed the question, and listened to each new rumor
as it was brought in from goodness only knows where!
Three B men left for home on furlough during the afternoon. They were
Private Max Claussenius, who had received his furlough some days
before, Dr. Tom McCulloch, of the hospital corps, and Private Warren,
who had received a telegram from his employers ordering his immediate
return.
We passed the afternoon in a fever of expectancy, hoping against hope
that the rumor would prove true. How anxiously we watched headquarters,
where there did seem to be an unwonted stir. Soon our suspense was
relieved; we received the order to strike camp and have our outfits
packed, ready to board a train for Truckee at six that evening. We
received the order with cheers, and set to work with a will, rolling
blankets, packing knapsacks, lowering tents, and carrying our baggage
and rations to the track. It is safe to say that A and B were most
heartily envied by the members of the less fortunate companies, and
many were the hopes expressed by the members of other companies that
theirs, too, might be sent. But no such good fortune was in store for
them; A and B alone had been ordered to prepare, and there was little
chance of a change. Never did National Guardsmen work more willingly
or respond more promptly to the order, “Fall in!” as when, under the
command of Major Burdick, our little battalion was formed in front of
regimental headquarters.
Here Colonel Sullivan spoke to us feelingly, wishing us godspeed and
exhorting us to do our full duty as patriotic soldiers and citizens
under every trying circumstance which the future might have in store
for us.
Giving three rousing cheers for our colonel, we were marched to the
tracks in the rear of our camp, there to await the arrival of the train
which was to bear us some two hundred and fifty miles away over the
high Sierras to the scene of our future operations.
Shortly after six the train arrived, and, with a rush, we boarded our
sleepers, threw down our knapsacks, and turned for a last look and wave
of the hand at the camp and comrades we were leaving, for none could
tell how long.
As here in Sacramento, so in the other parts of the state and in
Chicago the great strike was on the decline. Since the train wreck and
murder of the eleventh the chance of success had vanished, and public
sympathy, to a great extent, had turned from the strikers. Worden,
since sentenced to hang, was arrested for this crime on the fourteenth,
and Harry Knox, the leader of the A. R. U. in California, was arrested
on the day following as an accomplice.
Through the middle and southern part of the state, San Jose, Stockton,
Fresno, Los Angeles, and San Diego, business remained at a standstill.
The portion of the First Infantry, U. S. A., ordered to Los Angeles
on July 2d still had charge of the depot and saw that no disturbances
occurred. Affairs had quieted so in San Jose, that Company D of the
Fifth Infantry, N. G. C, Captain Elliott, was recalled and ordered to
report to Colonel Fairbanks at Alameda. The work of the National Guard
under General Muller had been thoroughly done from the start, in the
San Joaquin valley, and now their work of guarding trains and bridges
went quietly on.
In Sacramento and Oakland the deadlock was now thoroughly broken. On
the fourteenth the first train in two weeks arrived in Sacramento from
Oakland by way of Benicia and Davisville. Four trains, including an
overland, left Sacramento, the overland being the first train to pull
out with a Pullman car attached.
On the fifteenth and seventeenth, detachments from A and B of the Sixth
Infantry, N. G. C, were sent to Dunsmuir from Sacramento under Colonel
Nunan. Here they remained until the twenty-fifth guarding trains and
bridges when they were relieved by Companies A and F of the Second.
In Chicago, President Debs of the A. R. U. now seemed to despair.
Arrested for conspiracy and thrown into jail, his followers from
one end of the land to the other seemed to desert him. In vain did
he send out telegrams beseeching them to stand firm. Vain were his
announcements that business in Chicago was paralyzed. He realized the
strike was lost, and knew the loss could be ascribed to no other cause
than the strikers’ violence.
Throughout California the strike was admittedly lost. On the
twenty-third General Dimond issued orders for the Fifth Infantry at
Oakland to withdraw from camp, for Sheehan’s command to be dismissed,
and at San Jose for the men to return home. At a conference held in the
governor’s office, it was decided to withdraw the different regiments
of the National Guard as soon as practicable. The San Francisco
regiments, the First and Third, would be soon ordered home, and their
work taken up by Colonel Park Henshaw and the Eighth Infantry.
On the same day on which this conference was held eight hundred and
twenty men returned to work in the railroad shops, and one thousand
applications for work were received. Still with the tenacity of despair
the different leaders were sending “success” and “stand fast” telegrams
to all parts of the country.
Arrests of leaders on charges of obstructing the mails, conspiracy, and
insurrection now became common. Marshal Baldwin was busily arresting
all the active spirits of the strike, and the trial of Worden, Hatch,
Knox, and others for murder was progressing at Woodland.
Two different attempts at train wreck, now that the strike was lost,
undoubtedly made for revenge, were frustrated, the second only after
a lively exchange of shots between a detachment of regulars and the
wreckers.
So toward the end of July the strike slowly resolved itself into a
legal fight in the courts of the country. Every leader of prominence
was arrested, and the minds of all were fully occupied in their various
attempts to escape their threatened punishment.
This, then, a thousand criminal suits throughout the land, was the end
of the greatest railway strike in the history of our country. A strange
end indeed.
[Illustration: A NATIVE PATRIOT.]
[Illustration]