"Do you think, if I am afraid, that you can make me confident by telling
me that the dark won't bite me? Perhaps I am afraid--sometimes I do
feel horribly scared--but don't you think I counted all the dangers
before I made you bring poor little Moon Ying? There's one thing I'm
more afraid of than all the rest of things put together, and that is the
unknown thing. Let me know of a danger, and I'll be scared, and face
it. But when I know it's there, and don't know what it is--that's the
time I want to run. Now I saw in your face that you knew, or thought
you knew, and were afraid. Please tell me what it is that you think."
She looked into my eyes with such a mixture of pleading and command that
my reluctance to confide my fears to her melted away.
"The man," I replied, "was beyond doubt the old pirate who had Moon Ying
in charge for the Hop Sing Tong."
"And you think he was on a reconnoitering expedition for his wicked
society?"
"I have no doubt of it."
She considered the matter with a grave face and downcast eyes, and I
regretted that I had confided my fears to her so bluntly. Then she
asked:
"Do you think the highbinders will come here?"
"No, I don't. I do not believe there is courage enough in all the tongs
in Chinatown to attack this house. They have a pretty clear idea of the
sort of vengeance that would be taken on them, if they tried such a
thing. The burning of Los Angeles' Chinatown was a lesson that they
will remember a long time."
"Do you think it possible that your wicked tongsters might hire some
white men to do what they don't dare do themselves?"
Miss Kendrick spoke in such tone that I demanded sharply:
"What put that idea into your head?"
"I suppose I ought to have told you at first, but the fact is that it's
just this minute I've put two and two together and made five out of
them. Now this is the way of it: A little while before the old Chinaman
was here, a white man came to the back door and asked for something to
eat. The cook set out some victuals for him, but he didn't seem to have
the appetite of a starving man. What he did have was a consuming
curiosity about the family. After a good many questions, he asked if
there were any Chinese about the place. The cook said 'No,' and then he
asked if there wasn't a Chinese girl here. I can't get out of the cook
just what she did tell him, but I have no doubt he had the whole story
out of her. I'm sure the fellow knows this minute just what room the
girl is in, and who waits on her, and what she has for dinner, and how
many people are about the place, and whatever else he wanted to find
out."
I balanced my suspicions between the possibility that the fellow was a
spy for the tongs, and the chance that he was an agent of the
anti-coolie clubs, and then asked for a description of him.
"Well," said Miss Kendrick, "he's a most remarkable-looking creature,
and I'm sure you ought to have no difficulty in finding him. I asked
three of the servants who saw him, and took down their descriptions, and
all you have to do is to look for a tall, short, middle-sized young man,
with yellowish, brown, black hair, and black and blue (or possibly
green) eyes, with and without a mustache, wearing a slouch derby hat,
and dressed in dark, light-colored clothes--and then you'll have the
man."
"I'm sure the police ought to be able to lay their hands on him at
once," I said. "But it's no matter. I can hardly imagine the tongs
hiring a gang of burglars to steal the girl. However, I'll have men
enough around here to give them other things to think about if they come
near the house."
"Well, then, I shall sleep easier," said Miss Kendrick with a sigh of
relief. "It's a comfort to one's mind to know that there's some one
looking after your safety. It's not strong-minded, but it's much more
satisfying than having the responsibility one's self." She paid this
tribute to the protecting hand of man with an infinitely charming
condescension, and then at a sound from without changed her tone to
earnest admonition: "And now I hear Mercy coming, and you're not to say
a word of worriments."
"Mum's the word," I replied, pleased to enter into the bonds of
conspiracy; and a moment later Miss Fillmore entered, breathless,
followed by Mr. Baldwin clothed in supercilious indignation.
"Why, what's the matter?" cried Miss Kendrick, starting up impulsively,
and embracing Miss Fillmore.
"Oh, my dear," returned her friend in a disturbed voice, "it's nothing
much, I think--" She hesitated in evident unwillingness to alarm her
hostess, but Mr. Baldwin's indignation was repressed by no such
consideration.
"It's another demonstration by Mr. Hampden's friends," he said with
something of heat in his cold cynical voice. "That blatherskite Kearney
has led a crowd of hoodlums up Nob Hill, and it looks as though there
would be wild times before the night is over. We passed a gang of the
riffraff a few minutes ago, and they were headed up California Street,
yelling like wild Indians about burning down the Stanford and Hopkins
places. It's a fine pass that this toleration of the worst elements has
brought us to. There's just one way to deal with those fellows, and
that's to call out the troops and mow them down. If we were under a city
government that had the first notion of protecting life and property, it
would have had the whole gang in jail without waiting for murder and
arson."
With this threat in the air, the Nob Hill meeting became a matter of
immediate interest. If a riot should start at that point, it might be
followed by an attack on the Van Ness Avenue district, and it evidently
behooved me to judge for myself the temper and designs of the crowd.
"If my friends are engaged in any such desperate business, I'm afraid
it's my duty to keep them from getting any further into mischief," I
said; "so I'll bid you a good evening."
"You don't mean you are going out into that mob, do you?" cried Miss
Kendrick.
"That is my present purpose," I replied with some exultation at the
anxiety betrayed in her tone and look.
"Well, I'm sure you're old enough to know better, but I see you are an
obstinate man-creature, and it's no use to say anything to you. But
when you get there, I hope you'll remember that you're not a regiment of
soldiers, and leave the business of the police to the police."
"Send word if you're arrested," said Mr. Baldwin scornfully, "and I'll
see what can be done about bail."
I bowed my thanks, and went out into the hall where I found Miss
Fillmore awaiting me.
"Do you think Mr. Parks is in that mob?" she asked, with a charming air
of embarrassment.
"I don't doubt it," I replied.
"He is so impulsive," she said. "I saw him this afternoon, and he was
very much excited over something that happened to Mr. Merwin. I am very
much afraid he will let his feelings run away with him to-night."
There was a depth of anxiety in her eyes that Parks ought to have been
proud to inspire, and even with the call of conflict urging me to be
gone, I spoke a few words of comfort, and reflected on the mysteries of
attraction that should draw together the gentle Mercy and the
impassioned leader of revolt against society.
"If you find him to-night, try to restrain him," she pleaded. "It is
his good heart--his sympathy with the suffering--that brings him into
these troubles."
"I shall do all I can," I promised.
Outside the house, I stopped for a few minutes to see that my watchmen
were on duty, and to learn if they had observed any signs of trouble.
"No," said Andrews, the head watchman, "there's been nothing worse than
a gang of hoodlums going up toward Nob Hill, and yelling like Comanches.
But one of 'em makes me a bit suspicious, for as he passes, he says,
'That's the house.' I says to myself that there's a chance he means
this one, so I've cautioned the boys to be wide awake."
"How many are on duty to-night?"
"Four besides myself--Reardon and Selfridge, Hunt and Carr."
"Well, get two more to stand watch with you to-morrow night, and till
further orders." And with Andrews' assurance that he knew two
trustworthy men for the place, I ran down the steps and hastened up the
street toward Nob Hill.
As I reached the plateau, the meeting appeared to have resolved itself
into small groups, that now scattered, now coalesced, and then scattered
again, with shouts and cries of men. There were roars of anger followed
by jeers, and shouted orders, and the elements of disorder circled
hither and thither in aimless dispersion. Hoodlums elbowed me from the
sidewalk. A policeman caught me by the arm and whirled me around with a
curt order to "Git out of this now," and I recognized that the forces of
law and order had replied to the challenge of the agitators.
I pressed my way forward, by avoiding the scattered police, and at last
reached the corner of Mason and California Streets by the Hopkins
mansion. There was still a mob of a thousand or more, struggling about a
shouting group, thinning from moment to moment, under the efforts of the
police.
I caught a glimpse of Parks, with mouth open and fist raised. Then he
disappeared; a company of police appeared in the speaker's place, and
the mob melted away with marvelous rapidity. The police formed in
company front, swept along the block, and then with a right-about-face
returned, and broke up into twos and threes in chase of groups of
disorder.
As the upper block was nearly cleared, I caught sight of a policeman
with whom I had a nodding acquaintance.
"You've got a handful of trouble to-night," I said, as he paused for
breath.
"Throuble by the armful," he said indignantly. "That blatherskite
Kearney ought to be in the tanks, with all that gang of fish-horn
shouters that follows him. He's making us more throuble than all the
haythin divils between Goat Island and Washerwoman's Bay, and that's not
sayin' a little."
"I didn't get here in time to hear what he said."
The policeman gave an indignant snort, and paused to order a trio of
young men to "git home and out of here now."
"Well," he said, turning to me again, "you needn't lose slape for what
you've missed. He told that crowd of howling hoodlums that these houses
here was built with the loot squeezed out of their pockets, whin hiven
knows that they wouldn't do enough wurruk in tin thousand years to build
wan side of that fince. Thin he says to 'em, 'What's the matter wid yez
is thot the railroad hires the haythins instead of puttin' youse on the
job'--as if those hoods would lave town and lift pick and shovel on the
grade to save their sowls from the Ould Wan himself. An' at last he
says, 'I give the leprous corporation jist thirty days to fire their
haythin shovelers, an' if they don't, I'll lade yez up here to hang
Stanford and Crocker out of their own windows, an' burn their houses on
top of thim.' Thin some drunken hood yells, 'Hang 'em now!' An' with
that we clubs 'em good and hard. Now we've got 'em on the run, an'
we've got ordhers to keep 'em on the run till they've had enough."
"Was Kearney arrested?" I asked.
"I think not, sor, but some of the gang with him was."
"Is there any danger of an attack on the houses on Van Ness Avenue?"
"It don't look so, sor. The hoodlums don't seem to be looking above
wash-houses now, an' most of thim are ready to hunt their holes. Well,
good night to ye, sor. I must head off this gang here." And he ran up
Mason Street flourishing his club in chase of a dozen venturesome boys.
*CHAPTER XVII*
*BIG SAM'S WARNING*
With the deliquescence of the elements of disorder, I was relieved of
the immediate fear of danger to Wharton Kendrick's place, and my
thoughts recurred to Parks. From his sudden disappearance at the rush
of the police, I could scarce doubt that he was under arrest, and the
remembrance of Mercy's anxious face turned my steps toward the Old City
Hall to learn the extent of his troubles, and the chances of securing
his release.
Kearny Street was thronged with groups of excited men, and I approached
the old municipal building through a surging mob that was kept in motion
by the police.
"They've got Kearney in there!" cried a frenzied follower of the
agitators, pointing to the Old City Hall. "Let's take him out."
"No, they haven't!" called another. "They didn't dare arrest him."
A policeman brought down a club impartially on the head of the inciter
of disorder and the friend of peace, with gruff orders to "Move on!"
And through many difficulties I made my way to the door on Merchant
Street that opened to the City Prison. The entrance was well guarded by
several stout policemen, but my card secured admission. At the inner
gate, however, I was halted for a heart-searching catechism as to my
profession, standing, and present purposes; but at last the gate swung
open, and I stood by the desk sergeant, and questioned him in regard to
the arrested.
A dozen men were being searched, and their torn clothing and hard faces
testified to the rough treatment they had received--and earned.
"Parks?" said the desk sergeant, running his finger down his list. "He
isn't booked under that name. Look at Cell Three, and see if you find
him there." He pointed across the passage where a crowd of prisoners
was herded behind bars, like wild animals in the cages at a menagerie.
In the cage to which he pointed, a score of rough men had been thrust,
and were glaring out fiercely or sullenly according to their nature.
Parks was not among them, and I was turning away with a sigh of relief,
when I heard my name called with unmistakable Chinese intonation.
"Misseh Hampden!" called the voice once more, and I turned to an
adjoining cage to see a mixed crowd of Chinese and whites seated on a
bench in sullen dejection. Then the Chinaman nearest me rose and came
to the bars, and I recognized the smiling Kwan Luey.
"Why, Kwan Luey!" I exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, p'liceman say catch-em play fan-tan my place--bling-em jail--all
same fool--bling Kwan Luey."
I recalled that keeping a gambling game was supposed to be a part of
Kwan Luey's multifarious activities, and expressed my hope that this
would be a warning to him.
"Nev' mind," said Kwan Luey cheerfully. "Plitty soon my cousin him come
bling bail--one hund' dollah fo' me--ten dollah piecee fo' them." And
Kwan Luey smiled with pride at the distinction recognized in the
disparity of the price of freedom. "You catch-em letteh all same I
lite-em?"
"I think I kept the letter," I said, remembering the tangled verbiage
that had called me to his store to receive Big Sam's money under the
disguise of a prize in the lottery, and wondering what he could want
with it.
"No--no," he protested, catching the idea in my mind. "I lite-em new
letteh. You no get-em?"
"No."
Kwan Luey looked disappointed.
"Maybe you likee see Big Sam, eh?" he said with an insinuating air.
"Oh, Big Sam wants to see me, does he?"
"You likee see Big Sam," repeated Kwan Luey with the air of one stating
a recognized fact. "Maybe him show you how pick plenty good ticket, eh?"
"Does he want to see me to-night?"
"I no know--him no say. Too many p'lice--too many hoodlum--maybe you no
likee," said Kwan Luey, with a judicial view of the obstacles to an
interview with the King of Chinatown.
I decided that I would take the chances, though it was approaching
midnight, when my attention was attracted by the voice of Parks, and I
turned to see him at the desk. My heart sank with the thought of
Mercy's disappointment, when it was buoyed up once more by the discovery
that he was not in custody. Instead of standing there a prisoner, he was
piling little stacks of gold before the desk sergeant, and I divined
that he was producing bail for those followers who had been so
unfortunate as to fall into the hands of the police. As he shoved the
last of the stacks across the desk and took the receipt that was offered
him, he caught sight of me.
"What brings you here?" he cried in surprise.
"I have come, like yourself, on an errand of mercy. But I am the one
who has the greater reason to be surprised." I marveled at his rashness
in daring to enter the prison, and marveled still more that he was not
put under arrest where he stood. Then I reflected that it was most
unlikely that the policemen on guard at the prison had seen him at the
Nob Hill meeting or at the rescue of Merwin; and if his description was
on the books it was not definite enough to serve for identification.
"By heavens! They call this law!" he cried, waving his hand around at
the prison. "Do you know, sir, that they have set Baumgartner's bail at
five hundred dollars, and threaten to rearrest him as he sets foot out
of prison, if I secure his release with that sum!"
"Then I think you had better save your five hundred," I replied.
"You can take it coolly, Hampden, but I can't. It makes my blood boil.
If I had my way, I'd be here taking these men out with ax and sledge,
instead of with gold. I'd have done it anyhow if they had had the
courage to arrest Kearney. They didn't dare!" And he looked
threateningly around the prison, and then counted the members of his
band for whom the authorities had accepted bail. "Pass out," he said to
them, and as he brought up the rear of his party, I followed him. They
were of the typical hoodlum class, their insolence curbed for the moment
by the shadow of the prison, and they slouched with resentful fear from
the watchful eyes of the police. One figure among them stirred a
dormant memory, and then, as the band scattered in the street, I
recalled to mind the spy whose gift of an overcoat had opened the door
of the fates. He was gone before I could speak, and I turned to Parks.
"How did you escape arrest?" I asked.
"Escape!" cried Parks. "I courted arrest, but the coward hounds of
aristocracy had not the courage to lay hands on any of the leaders.
They know as well as I that the wrath of an outraged people would not
leave one stone of the jail upon another, if they ventured to seize
Kearney, or even so humble a person as I."
"To tell you the truth, I came down here expecting to find you in
custody, and to see what I could do toward getting you out. No, you
needn't thank me for it. Give your thanks to a young lady who is paying
you the compliment of more worry than you are worth. I came to relieve
her anxiety--not yours."
Parks halted as we reached the corner of Merchant and Kearny Streets,
and I saw the tense and angry lines soften on his face.
"Hampden, I won't pretend to misunderstand you. You're right. I'm not
worth her worry--nor is any man. I am grateful; but I tell you, as I
tell her, that our private interests, hopes, affections, are nothing
compared with the great cause of the people."
"Well, for her sake, I hope you'll keep out of jail."
Parks took off his hat, and shook his mane with an angry nod.
"A few more days," he cried, "and this cowardly set of time-servers will
be begging my protection instead of threatening my liberty."
"Are you ready to strike a blow?" I asked with sudden interest.
"Never mind," he said darkly. "We await only the word from our brethren
in the East. You can see the crisis approaching there. The railroad
strikes have spread from the Atlantic to the Missouri. The frightened
bloodsuckers of society are calling out the troops in the desperate hope
of prolonging their hold on the labor and productive resources of the
country. When the hour strikes--"
Parks had gradually raised his voice in oratorical fervor, despite the
nearness of the police headquarters, but at this moment he was
interrupted by a tall, strong-faced man, who seized him by the shoulder
and whispered something in his ear.
"Hampden," said Parks, "I am called. Will you be kind enough to send
word that I am safe? I shall see your friend to-morrow." And with a
nod he plunged into the crowd that blocked Kearny Street and
disappeared.
At the drug store on the corner I scribbled a note that should set Miss
Fillmore's mind at rest, and with some difficulty found a messenger who
would deliver it. Then with misgivings I shouldered my way through the
crowd, crossed the Plaza, and entered Chinatown.
The echoes of the Nob Hill meeting reverberated here as well as about
the Old City Hall, but with a far different note. In place of the
illuminated streets, the gay lanterns and the open doors of invitation
of other days, there were barred entrances everywhere; the lights, where
seen at all, flickered behind closed shutters, and the darkened
buildings were surrounded with an atmosphere of sullen watchfulness.
There was evident fear that the meeting on the hill was but the prelude
to an attack on Chinatown, and Chinatown was prepared.
The entrance to Big Sam'e house was closed and barred, like the other
doors of Waverly Place, but lights shone through the chinks in the
shutters, and there were sounds of men stirring behind; so without
hesitation I gave a resounding rap on the panel. The noises within
ceased suddenly, but there was no response to my summons. I rapped
again, and then a third time, before a singsong voice cried through the
door:
"Wha' fo'? What you wan'?"
"I want to see Big Sam," I explained.
"No catch-em Big Sam," returned the voice harshly.
"You tell Big Sam Mr. Hampden here to see him," I cried. "He send tell
me come. You sabby tell him now--right away."
There was a sudden outbreak of Chinese voices in argument and protest,
and then silence followed for so long that I was about to rap again,
when the same voice called through the door:
"How many you come?"
"One man."
There were sounds of a barricade removed, and the door opened cautiously
for a few inches while its guardian reconnoitered. Reassured by my
solitary figure, he stood aside for me to pass.
At the last moment my lagging judgment suggested the folly of putting
myself as a hostage in the hands of the yellow men in such a time of
storm. But it was too late to retreat with honor, and I slipped through
the opening with all the boldness and self-possession I could assume,
and saw the door bolted and barricaded against other intrusion. I
looked narrowly about me.
Within the store that formed the entrance to Big Sam's establishment
were twenty or thirty Chinese, and in the smoky light of the lamps I
could distinguish the expression of suspicion and hatred that had
escaped from behind the "no-sabby" mask of the coolie. The passions of
the meeting on the hill had stirred an answering passion in the breasts
of the yellow man, and I saw that in this place, at least, he was armed
and ready for battle. The band pretended to take no notice of me, but
the running fire of conversation that followed my entrance told me by
its unmistakable accents that my coming had roused the instincts of
combat, as the sight of the prey rouses the hunting instincts of the
tiger.
Without a word a Chinaman beckoned me to follow him, and with some
trepidation I stumbled up the stair in his footsteps. He stood aside at
the entrance to Big Sam's room of state, motioned me to enter, and as I
stepped in, he closed the door behind me.
For a moment I was disturbed to find that I was the only person in the
room, and looked about with curiosity to know whether I was spied upon
from some hidden post of observation. After my experience on the
previous visit, I could not doubt that more than one hidden entrance led
to the room, and I suspected that more than one pair of eyes watched me
from hidden peep-holes. The dark carved wood of the furniture and
walls, and the figures in the intricately embroidered hangings glowered
at me with something of the repressed hostility of the guards
down-stairs. The life and turmoil of the city from which I had just
come seemed already at a vast distance from that oriental hall, and I
could not but reflect how easy it would be to make certain that I never
returned to the modern San Francisco that seemed now to lie so far away.
With a discretion that would recommend me in the eyes of any watcher, I
took a chair far enough from the desk to avoid the suspicion of a wish
to pry into Big Sam's papers, and surveyed the apartment as I
impatiently awaited the coming of its owner.
Suddenly the voice of Big Sam sounded behind me.
"I am always glad to welcome Mr. Hampden--even when he is the bearer of
bad news."
I had heard no sound of his entry, and turned with a start at his voice.
Then I exclaimed in surprise. Instead of Big Sam, in his Chinese
costume, I saw an American gentleman regarding me with an impassive
face. His light plaid suit was of fashionable cut, and no detail of
costume was wanting. But for the voice, I should have supposed, at
first glance, that another visitor had followed me into Big Sam's
reception-room, and it was only a closer look that revealed the features
of Big Sam himself. A touch of art had lightened the color of his skin,
and only the eyes and cheek-bones suggested his Asiatic origin.
"I hope it is no bad news that brings me," I said, as Big Sam advanced
to shake my hand. "I think I bring none myself."
Big Sam seated himself behind his desk, looking incongruously out of
place--a modern American as master of an oriental domain.
"In this time of broils and alarms, one's first thought must be of
sudden evil," he said gravely. "You may guess, by my disguise, I have
been observing how your people comport themselves when they assemble to
consider the interests of their race. I have been much edified."
In his American dress, and with his perfect command of English, I had no
doubt that he might have brushed shoulders with Kearney himself without
rousing suspicion of his nationality.
"It has been an inspiring evening," I replied with a gravity equal to
his own. "I see you have prepared for trouble."
"I am not insensible to the advantages or rights of self-defense," he
said dryly. "But I trust that you have found nothing incorrect in our
attitude--if I may borrow a phrase from your diplomats. I would be
unwilling to take any course objectionable to the country that is my
host--possibly a somewhat unwilling host, if I may judge by the words I
have heard to-night." Big Sam looked at me with the inscrutable irony
of the Orient.
"I can see no ground for complaint," I replied. "I have come to learn,
not to reprove or to warn."
"I am, as ever, at your service."
"I was happy enough to meet our estimable friend Kwan Luey--under
somewhat difficult and depressing circumstances, I may add--and he was
so insistent in his assumption that I wished to see you that I thought
it wise to test his theory before I went to sleep."
The shadow of a smile swept across Big Sam's face.
"Kwan Luey has his moments of divination," he said, and then fell
silent.
"May I inquire what particularly I wished to see you about?" I asked at
last.
Big Sam's eyes studied me keenly.
"I warned you--not so long ago, Mr. Hampden--that strange events were
preparing in your city. May I ask what is now your opinion on them? I
am interested to hear."
"I must congratulate you on the accuracy of your information, though I
am still at a loss to surmise why you should have been selected for the
confidence. And as for the disorders, they are but a temporary
effervescence, which will die away, or be suppressed. But there is one
thing permanent about them. They are a crude expression of the resolve
of our race to hold the continent for itself."
"Crude indeed!" said Big Sam with energy. "And will destroy itself by
its own violence. I have here a paper showing the sentiment of your
people in the Eastern States. It makes a protest against the policy
that would exclude us."
"I shan't begrudge you the pleasure you can get out of that sort of
comment. But I can assure you that race feeling will prevail."
"Over private interest? I believe not. And the private interest of
your governing classes is with the free admission of my people. But
enough of that. Where is your charge--and mine--Moon Ying?"
He threw this question at me as though he hoped to surprise some
admission.
"She is still with Miss Kendrick."
"What arrangements have you made to protect her?"
"Protect her? From what? Are the highbinders so desperate as to think
of attacking Mr. Kendrick's house? I trust you will warn them that this
would be something far more serious than all Kearney's oratory. It
would mean the destruction of Chinatown."
"I understand you," said Big Sam suavely. "I have no doubt that an
attack by the tongs on Mr. Kendrick's house would bring a terrible
reprisal. Fortunately there are few among my people who do not
understand that quite as well as you."
"Nevertheless there is something you fear," I said, as Big Sam
hesitated.
"You must understand, Mr. Hampden, that this girl is a very desirable
piece of property. There is her money value, which is considerable.
And there is the further consideration that the possession of her would
give a tong a certain power and distinction. The contest has come to be
a point of honor--or perhaps you would say dishonor. At all events the
tongs have not ceased to plan to recover her, and I have information
that the Hop Sing Tong has devised a plan to seize her by force. It
would, of course, be suicide for them to carry out the plan themselves.
But what they can not do themselves can be done by white men. Your race
is not more scrupulous than mine, Mr. Hampden. I have reason to believe
that the Hop Sing Tong has found a gang of white men who are ready, for
a money consideration, to break into Mr. Kendrick's house and carry off
the girl."
This warning struck me with the force of a physical blow. It was
scarcely possible that Big Sam could be mistaken, and I must reckon on
the attack as an imminent danger. And in swift imagination I could hear
the screams of Laura Kendrick and Mercy Fillmore joining those of Moon
Ying, as they struggled in the grasp of ruffians, and could see the
crackling flames as the raiders left destruction behind them.
"I have had reason to-night to surmise that something was afoot," I
said, "but I did not suspect this." And then I retailed to Big Sam the
story of the visit of the old Chinaman, the attack of the three raiders
of the early morning, and the questioning of the mysterious tramp.
"The old man is Chung Toy, sometimes known to your people as 'Little
John.' He was, you will remember, the custodian of the girl. He is now
in the employ of the Hop Sings. The white men I can suppose were spies,
sent to reconnoiter, though I am puzzled about the morning raiders."
"Does your information go so far as to suggest when the attack will be
made?"
"No."
"And have you any word of advice?"
"Advice? Yes. I should advise that you return the girl to my custody.
I confess that she would be an embarrassment--"
"You will not be put in any such awkward position," I interrupted. "I
can speak for Miss Kendrick, and say that she will keep the girl till
the conditions are fulfilled."
"Then," said Big Sam composedly, "I leave to your best judgment the way
to meet the danger." And with a bow that signified the end of the
interview, he clapped his hands, and a young Chinaman appeared to
conduct me down the stairs. And as I passed the sullen guards, and
heard the door bolted and barred behind me, I admired the diplomacy with
which Big Sam had washed his hands of his responsibilities, and left
them to me.
*CHAPTER XVIII*
*LITTLE JOHN AS A MAN OF ACTION*
Big Sam's warning was enough to drive me once more to the Kendrick house
to make certain that all was secure. I could suppose, from his words,
that he did not expect an immediate attack, yet it was by no means
unlikely that Little John's ruffians would take advantage of the
disorders of the night to make their attack. But all was quiet in the
neighborhood, and Andrews reported nothing more threatening than a few
disorderly hoodlums who had gone shouting past an hour or two before.
I confided to Andrews the warning of an intended attack, and directed
him to engage six men instead of the two I had previously ordered.
"I think I can find the right sort," he said. "There's some boys I used
to know up in Nevada when we were holding down some claims against big
odds. Six of 'em would chew up a hundred of these cigarette-smoking
hoods." And he told with keen enjoyment of the adventurous days of the
claim-jumpers, when a man's life and property depended on his strength
and courage and sureness of aim.
I paced the watch with him till the stars began to pale before the
coming day, and then gladly sought home and bed. My sleep was troubled
with vague, indefinable dreams of coming danger, and it was late when I
rose with the presentiment that a crisis was approaching.
It was a Sunday morning, yet the apprehensions roused by my dreams found
abundant reinforcement when I was once more astir. The echoes from the
Nob Hill meeting were still to be heard in the city, rousing
apprehension among the orderly. The newspapers treated it as the
sensation of the day, yet, from their comments, I saw that they had no
conception of the real designs that lay behind the activity of the
anti-coolie agitators. Clark reported to me that the Council of Nine
had been in session till long after midnight, and that the anti-coolie
clubs had been ordered to hold daily drills. One of the two spies who
were detailed to keep watch on Peter Bolton came at noon with the report
that Bolton had reached his office before seven o'clock in the morning,
where he had received a visit from Waldorf, Parks and Reddick, the three
most active members of the Council. As they left Bolton's office,
Reddick had been heard to say, "Before the week ends, we shall be
masters of the city." And as a final fillip to anxiety, I found at my
office a tangle-worded letter, which I recognized as the product of Kwan
Luey's pen, that recalled the warnings I had received from Big Sam.
With this accumulation of mental disturbance, I took my way at last to
the Kendrick house, to lay the tale of impending dangers before my
client, and to give hint to the young ladies of the need for caution.
On my arrival, I found the house in confusion. There was sound of
excited voices within, and, as I touched the bell, a servant rushed out
and down the steps without taking time to close the door. I entered
without ceremony, and a moment later met Laura Kendrick coming down the
stairs, her face clouded with fear and indignation.
"Oh, I'm so glad you've come!" she said with a gasp of relief, and the
look of fear faded out of her eyes. "We've been scared out of a year's
growth, and it's one of the mercies of Providence that we haven't lost
Moon Ying. It's not often I've wanted to be a policeman, but I did
to-day."
"Well, I'll be your policeman, if you'll only tell me what it's all
about."
"It's a comfort to have you say so, but I'm afraid you're too late. He
must be ever so far away by this time."
"Who is it? What has happened?" I demanded eagerly.
"Somebody tried to steal Moon Ying--that's what has happened," said
Laura Kendrick indignantly.
"Who did it? When? Did they attack the house?" I cried, startled at
the promptness with which my warnings had been fulfilled.
"Come right up-stairs," said Laura, impulsively seizing my arm and
leading me. "You shall hear at first-hand for yourself."
This sudden captivity gave me so pleasant a thrill that for a moment I
forgot Moon Ying and my responsibilities, and betrayed such inclination
to loiter that I was sharply ordered to "walk faster." So in a minute
or two I found myself entering a room where Moon Ying, with pale and
frightened face, leaned back among the pillows that covered a reclining
chair, and Mercy Fillmore, at Moon Ying's side, looked at us with
anxious eyes.
"This is Mr. Hampden, Moon Ying--the man who rescued you from
Chinatown," said Laura. "Tell him what happened to you."
Moon Ying's resources of English were scant at best, and between fright,
excitement and shyness, it took much prompting and explanation from
Laura and Mercy before her story was fairly begun. But when all the
tangled threads were straightened out the tale ran thus:
Moon Ying had of late spent an hour or two in the middle of the day,
taking the air and the sun, on the lawn behind the house. An hour
before she had been assisted to her sunny corner by Mercy, who had,
after a time, returned to the house. Suddenly the back gate had opened,
and a Chinaman had slipped in.
"How many?" I demanded.
"One--jus' one," replied Moon Ying.
"How him look?"
"Him small man--old man--all same Chung Toy you one time see," said Moon
Ying in her plaintive voice.
The picture of Little John with his wizened face, his white, horse-hair
mustache and his scant chin-whiskers, rose before me.
"Did he come alone?" I asked, incredulous of his boldness in venturing
thus by himself.
"Him say two men come 'longside him, but I no see. Him talk velly
soft--say I come Chinatown, him makee me velly nice dless--get velly
fine house--find me velly good husband. I tell him go 'way, I too
muchee sabby him. One time I thlink him good man--now I heap sabby him
tell big lie--no got nice dless--no got fine house--no got good
husband--I all time stlay Miss Kenlick. Him get velly mad--him say
velly bad thling. Then him say I no go alongside him, two men come
takee me so--" and Moon Ying raised her pretty little hands and gripped
fiercely at the air, with the motion of one throttling a victim.
"What you do then?"
"I cly velly loud--likee so--" and Moon Ying let out a feminine screech
that caused Laura and Mercy to cover their ears. "Then Chung Toy
catchee me, so--," and she seized her arm roughly,--"put hand so--," and
she covered her mouth with her palm. "I cly one time again. Miss
Kenlick come. Miss Muh See come. One man come. Chung Toy him lun
away."
"Did you see him?" I asked of Laura.
"Indeed I did; and I could have caught him, too, if I hadn't been such a
goose as to be scared into a graven image. But by the time I came to
life he was out of the gate. But it was the same man who was here last
evening; and if he had any one with him, they took precious good care
not to show themselves. He went in such a hurry that he left behind him
a peddler's basket. It had a few silk handkerchiefs in it. I suppose
he was going to make them an excuse, if he had been stopped on coming
in."
"Where were my men? There should have been two of them on hand to stop
such fellows. I must look into this." And the spirit of judgment rose
stern within me.
"Well," said Laura, "there was one of your men here, and the other was
sick, so you needn't look so cross. This one was at the front of the
house, and he ran around to the back at Moon Ying's scream. When he got
there that awful creature was out of the yard, so I got him to help us
carry Moon Ying into the house. Then he went out the back gate, but by
that time there was no heathen in sight anywhere. But I've sent one of
the servants for the police and the doctor, and I want your miserable
Chung Toy put in jail where he'll be out of mischief." And she gave her
head a determined nod, as though his fate were settled beyond recall.
"I'll have a warrant out before night," I said, with anger tingling in
my nerves, "and he'll be laid by the heels in the City Prison if he
dares show himself on the street."
"I don't think jail is a very good place, even for bad people," said
Mercy, "for it makes them worse; but I shall feel easier if that man is
locked up. It is too dangerous to have him at large."
"I suppose you don't need any instructions," I said, "but I'll venture
to suggest that Moon Ying had better take the air from an up-stairs
window for a few days."
"I hope we have sense enough to know that much," returned Laura soberly,
"though I don't blame you for thinking we haven't. I shan't dare let
her out of doors unless there's a regiment of soldiers about the house."
"I'll have a few more men here to-morrow; but you'd better keep her in
till I give the word that all is safe."
Laura Kendrick looked sharply at me.
"You needn't try to hide it," she said. "I see in your face that
there's something more you're afraid of, and you'd better tell it now
rather than later."
"I wasn't intending to conceal it. In fact, I was going to warn you
against letting strange white men into the house. I've had a warning
that leads me to believe that the fellow who was here asking questions
yesterday is one of a gang hired by the highbinders to recover Moon
Ying. They are much more dangerous than Little John, but if we don't
give them a chance they won't hurt us."
Moon Ying had followed our conversation with eager attention; and though
many of the words were beyond her understanding, she had caught the
meaning of what we said.
"Too bad--too velly bad," she said, with sudden resolution evident in
her face. "Bad man come, makee you 'flaid, maybe shoot. I go 'way, bad
man no come."
"Indeed you shan't go away," cried Laura. "There's no place on earth you
could be safe, even if we did let you go."
"I go Big Sam. Him velly big man. No bad man catch-em me in Big Sam's
house. No bad man catch-em you when me-gone."
At these words, Laura impulsively flung her arms about Moon Ying.
"You dear creature!" she cried. "Nobody shall hurt you here--and nobody
will hurt us, either. My uncle can protect you much better than Big
Sam, and Big Sam himself has said so."
Moon Ying tried to express more fully her fear that her presence brought
danger to the household, but her language was unequal to her thought,
and Laura and Mercy both talked at once to assure her that they feared
nothing, and would refuse to give her up, even though all the tongs of
Chinatown should come in force to demand her; so Moon Ying at last with
a sigh of grateful content said:
"I likee stay--I likee you." And Laura on one side, and Mercy on the
other, twined their arms about her with a laugh that was almost a sob.
It was a pretty picture of the sisterhood of Occident and Orient, and I
admired it, with something of the feminine emotions raising a lump in my
throat, when I was observed by the lady of the house.
"Go away," she said. "This is no place for men." And in spite of my
remonstrance that I was in perfect harmony with my surroundings, I was
driven forth, and went down-stairs to find Wharton Kendrick taking a
Sunday afternoon nap in his den.
He gave me a sleepy greeting, but roused himself to attention at my
account of the Nob Hill meeting, the midnight session of the Council of
Nine, the morning meeting in Bolton's office, and the warning from Big
Sam.
"Hm-m! Well, put on enough watchmen to see that we don't wake up to
find our throats cut," he said. "I dare say P. Bolton is egging them on
all around to do something for their money. But so far as the business
goes, I think I've got everything shipshape and ready for storm. The
syndicate is strong enough to protect the market, and the police can
handle the Cheap John revolution, and I don't believe anybody is going
to attack the house; so there's nothing to worry about. But you'd
better keep in touch with your anarchist friends a little closer than
you've been doing. If we can get warning over night of any particular
deviltry they are going to start, it might be worth a hundred thousand
dollars. Hallo! what's this?" he cried as a servant brought him a card.
"Show him in." And before I could escape, General Wilson bustled
through the door, his ruddy face aglow in the frame of his bristling
yellow-gray side-whiskers, and his short stout frame radiating energy at
every step.
"Why, God bless my soul! Kendrick--Hampden--I find you with your heads
together like a pair of conspirators in the theater. Hope I don't
interrupt. It does me good, Hampden, to see you youngsters pulling along
in double harness with the war-horses like Kendrick and me; and you
can't find a better one to pull with than Kendrick; he's the salt of the
earth."
I professed myself glad to see the general, and Wharton Kendrick greeted
him jovially.
"I don't believe in doing business on Sunday," said General Wilson. "In
fact, I lost a million-dollar trade with Jim Fisk once, because I
wouldn't sign the contract on the Sabbath, and on Monday Jim was chasing
after something else. But I thought you'd like to know that I got a
telegram from my people about that swamp-land deal. Here it is, and you
see they'll come up to that eight hundred thousand dollar offer. That's
the limit, and it won't last long at that. I don't like to boast,
Kendrick, but I'll tell you that there isn't another man on the
footstool that could have got 'em up to that point--I'm the only one
that could do it; and, by George, I'm astonished at my own success, the
way things are looking in the East with those confounded railroad
strikes and rumors of riot. Now, I want you to understand that I'm not
asking you to take up with the offer to-day, for of course you remember
the Sabbath just as I do. But you can have a good chance to think it
over. You know well enough that you're going to take the offer, so I'll
warn you that I'll drop around in the morning and get your acceptance."
"Hold on, hold on, Wilson. You're running as wild as a mustang colt.
I'm not so sure about this thing. I've got to have more time to
consider it. I said I'd let you have the land for eight hundred and
fifty thousand, but I believe I'm a fool to let it go for any such
figure. However, I'll let it stand for a couple of days. I've got some
affairs booked for to-morrow that will take all my time. But if you'll
come in on Tuesday with your eight hundred and fifty thousand you can
have the land. After that it'll cost you more."
"Kendrick, I'll wait another day for you, if I have to telegraph that
I've broken a leg. Business, sir, is, next to war, man's most important
pursuit; but even business must give way to the call of friendship.
You'll see me coming into your office on Tuesday morning, Kendrick, like
a conquering hero, ready to receive your sword--or your pen, which is
mightier yet--but at eight hundred thousand, mind you."
"Come, come, Wilson, you're getting ahead of your horses," said Kendrick
with a laugh. "I'm thinking of getting up a company to reclaim those
lands, and if I conclude to do it, I won't sell for double the money."
"Talk as long as you like, Kendrick; but I've got a sixth sense that
tells me when a bargain's made, and it never fails me. I can tell, nine
times out of ten, when the other fellow has concluded to take my figures
before he knows it himself, and that gift has saved me a pretty penny
more than once. Why, when the Ohio Midland was enlarging its Chicago
terminal, there was one piece we had to have--but the story's too long
to tell. However, I made a hundred thousand dollars the best of the
bargain by knowing what the other fellow was going to do before he knew
it himself."
Wharton Kendrick gave a hearty laugh at General Wilson's diplomacy.
"Well, I shall take warning by that and hold out for my hundred
thousand--or, I should say, fifty thousand, as I've given you a price."
"You're getting your extra hundred thousand with the price I'm offering
you," said the general testily, "and I know well enough you'll not be
fool enough to refuse it, especially after such a row as you had on Nob
Hill last night. I hope my New York clients don't hear of it, or
everything will be off. I was there, sir, and of all the howling mobs I
ever saw, this beat anything since the draft riots. Why, sir, that
blatant beast, Kearney, shouted arson and manslaughter, and another
fellow called for the overturn of society, and if it hadn't been for the
police, I believe they would have worked up the crowd to the point of
blood-letting." Then General Wilson went at such length into the proper
methods of handling mobs that I seized upon a favorable moment to slip
out the door.
As I left the boom-boom of General Wilson's voice behind me, I caught
sight of Mercy Fillmore's perplexed and anxious face.
"Oh, I thought you had gone," she said, "but I'm glad you haven't, for I
want to thank you for your thoughtful note of last night. And now Mr.
Parks has sent me word that he is too busy to come up this afternoon,
and I was wondering how I could get a few lines to him. I am so afraid
he is planning something very reckless--something that will get him into
trouble. If I did not fear that he would be angry, I should go down and
speak to him myself."
"If that is all that's worrying you, I'll see that he gets your
letter--that is, if you can give me any idea where he is to be found."
"He wrote that he should be detained all the afternoon at Mr. Blasius'
place, with some very important committee meetings." The idea of
Mercy's seeking Parks in the House of Blazes struck me as slightly
amusing, but I forebore to enlighten her as to the social position of H.
Blasius, and she continued: "Now if you know where that is, you might
send one of your men down there with this note." And she handed me an
envelope addressed to "Mr. Gerald Parks." "You are sure it is not
asking too much of you? I hope you are enough interested in him to wish
to keep him from trouble."
I assured her that I was glad to be of service, and she thanked me with
a dash of color in her pale face.
*CHAPTER XIX*
*MISCHIEF AFOOT*
My first thought in accepting Mercy Fillmore's commission had been to
intrust her letter to one of my men. But once outside the house, it
dawned upon me that I held in my hand a provident excuse to seek the
conspirators in their lair. The hint by which Parks had roused such
enviable anxiety corroborated the information I had received from my spy
service. The campaign of action was evidently at hand, and I might
possibly learn from a personal visit what I could not learn through
others--provided I could pass unchallenged through the doors of the
House of Blazes. The letter I held was a card of admission certain to
be honored, if Parks were there. For the rest, chance must serve to
expose or to conceal the plans that were keeping the agitators'
committees in prolonged session.
H. Blasius received me with reserve born of suspicion, and his bleary
eyes searched my face coldly at my name and my demand for Parks.
"Meestaire Park? Why do you want him?" he inquired at last.
"I have a very important message for him," I replied.
"Gif to me ze message," said Blasius. "When Meestaire Park he come, he
shall have it."
"I couldn't give it to you," I said. "I am to deliver it into his hands
only. And I can tell you that he will be very angry if there's any
delay about it."
H. Blasius' pasty face took on an expression of dismay at the thought of
an angry Parks, and with a grumbling of French interjections that
suggested the cracking of his ill-regulated internal machinery, he
waddled to a doorway at the end of the bar, and disappeared up a box
stairway.
I looked around the saloon at the dozen or more men who lounged about in
varying degrees of alcoholic stupefaction, and had just noted a group of
men half concealed at a table at the farther end of the L of the room,
when a rapid step descended the stairs, and Parks appeared.
"Hampden!" he cried, shaking my hand. "What can I do for you? It is a
surprise to see you here."
"If I need an apology for intruding, here is a good one." And I held
out Mercy's letter.
Parks seized it with a start of emotion as he recognized the
handwriting, looked about with apparent thought of the profanation of
reading Mercy's words in that place, and then giving me a nod to follow
him, strode to a secluded table and opened the letter. His face lost
something of its aggressive resolution as he read and re-read the pages.
"Hampden," he said in a softened voice, "did you ever realize that the
sympathies of women are individual and concrete? The welfare of the
masses is but a shadow to them, except as they see it through some one
they know and care for. Here my petty personal welfare is put before
the interests of the whole people!" And he laid a monitory finger on
the letter. "I am asked to give up an enterprise of the greatest moment
lest I shall get my head cracked or be thrown into prison."
"Would you have her think otherwise?"
He looked at the letter without answering. Then he thrust it into his
pocket, gave his head a shake, and his face was once more dominated by
the aggressive spirit of the agitator.
"I don't deny it is pleasant to be considered worth a moment of anxiety;
but it is weakening to the resolution. It is something that must have
no part in my life."
"Good heavens, Parks! You don't mean to say that you would give up the
chance to get a girl like Mercy Fillmore, just for the sake of making
speeches about--" It was on the tip of my tongue to say "the riffraff,"
but in deference to the prejudices of my listener, I ended weakly with
"--people who don't care a snap of their fingers for you?"
Parks was silent for some seconds, and he studied the table with a
far-away look in his eyes.
"Do you think I have a chance?" he asked.
"Great Scott, man, how much encouragement do you want? Why, if a young
lady I could name--and won't--showed half as much interest in my
personal safety as this girl is showing in yours, I'd be down on my
knees at once."
He looked in my eyes, with something of frank boyishness, for the first
time, showing under the enthusiast and dreamer.
"I don't mind confessing to you, Hampden, that I've been in love with
that girl ever since we were school children together. But I think you
overestimate her interest in me. She is a very sympathetic person,
and--" He did not finish the sentence, but gave his hand a wave that
made her anxieties include the entire circle of her acquaintance. "It
was her work among the suffering poor that led me to the studies that
have shown me the rights of man and the wrongs of society. But, I have
resolved, Hampden, before I say a word, to accomplish something--to make
myself known--to strike a blow for the regeneration of mankind that
shall make the nations ring."
His voice had risen in the oratorical fervor of his last sentence, until
it attracted attention from the group at the lower end of the room, and
a chorus of voices called "Parks! Parks!"
"Here!" responded Parks. "What's wanted?" And rising, with a wave of
the hand that summoned me to follow him, he strode to the farther end of
the L where a group of five or six men sat around a table.
[Illustration: Five or six men sat around a table]
Dominating the group, I recognized Denis Kearney, talking with grandiose
bonhomie to his companions. There was a self-satisfied look on his
face, and something of arrogance was added to his bearing. A brief
experience of public applause had banished the simplicity from his
countenance, and in its place had come the indefinable lines of
calculation, ambition and authority. He was leaning back in his tilted
chair, but came to his feet as we approached. He shook hands warmly
with Parks, and remembered me as though he were conferring a favor.
"I've shaken thousands of hands this day," he said as he gave me a grip.
"It's harder worrk than hefting barrels, but it's worrk in a good cause.
We'll drive the haythins into the say in a month."
Parks introduced me with a wave of the hand to the men about the table,
and Kearney continued:
"Well, we'd better be thinkin' of the program for to-morrow night, and
how to get our tarriers out. I've got something to say about the police
interferin' with our meeting last night that ought to raise the
timperature about forty degrees."
"I've been thinking about the speeches," said Parks, "and I've concluded
it's time to swing 'em round."
"Swing 'em round to what?" demanded a tall man with a black mustache,
who had been introduced to me as Enos.
"The overthrow of capitalism," responded Parks, his face aglow. "The
Chinese cry is a good thing to rouse 'em with, but the Chinese question
is only a little corner of the real issue before the people. Capitalism,
plutocracy--these must be put down before the people can come to their
rights, and it's time we told 'em so."
There was a minute of silence, and the agitators looked about the table
as if each sought to read the others' thoughts.
"That's all well enough, Parks," said Kearney at last, "but we've tried
'em on that, an' it's no go. Whin I tell 'em the haythin is taking the
bread out of their mouths and ivery pigtail ought to be driven into the
say, they holler till I can't hear me own voice. But whin I tell thim
that society has got to be reorganized, an' that times will niver be
right till the collective capital of the nation is administhered by the
nation's ripresintatives--those are the worrds, aren't they,
Parks?--they shake their heads and say, 'What th' divil is he dhrivin'
at?' I can git five thousand men to follow me to Chinatown to-night to
burn the haythin out if I but say th' worrd, but I couldn't git fifty to
follow me to the City Hall to turn th' mayor out."
The others nodded assent to Kearney's words; but Parks' face had been
growing blacker and blacker, and now he broke forth impetuously:
"By heavens! If they don't see their own interests, they must be made
to see them. What are our tongues given us for but to tell them of the
things they can't see for themselves? The wrong, degradation and
poverty we see about us are no more due to the petty evils of Chinese
competition than to the wearing of machine-made shoes. They are due to
the control of industry by capital--to the system that puts a thousand
men to work for the benefit of one man instead of for the benefit of all
men. The Chinese now do injure the white man. But you put the capital
and labor of the nation under control of the nation's representatives,
and the labor of the Chinese would injure nobody--would help instead of
hurt. The more the Chinaman produced, the more there would be to divide,
and the less the Chinaman lived on, the more there would be for the rest
of us. We must make capital the servant, not the master, of mankind.
Wipe out the old system! Bring in the new!" Parks had grown more and
more excited as he talked, and his hair stood out aggressively from the
emphatic nods with which he had pointed his declamation.
"Do you mean that you want us to start a rebellion?" growled Enos.
"Successful rebellions are revolutions," cried Parks, "and it is a
revolution that society demands."
"Well, society isn't demanding it out loud," said Kearney.
"We must work through the ballot-box," said Enos, "we must keep within
the law."
At this word there was a harsh croak behind me, and I turned to see the
white pasty face of H. Blasius gloating over us, his fat forefinger
pointed at Enos.
"Law!" he cried. "It is ze superstition of _politique_ imposed on us by
ze capitalist, as ze superstition of moral is imposed on us by ze
priest. When we say _Non_--no more for us--zen it is gone--we are free.
Let us say _Pouf!_ away! we make laws to suit ourself. Eh, _mes
braves_?"
"Pooh!" said Enos. "You're talking nonsense."
"Nonsense? _Poltron_!" answered Blasius with contempt. "It take but a
few barricade and two free t'ousand men to defend zem, and--_boum_! We
have ze city. I was of ze Commune, and I tell you so. And instead of
_Marchons_, you say Nonsense. Eh-h, cowarrd!"
Enos jumped to his feet, his dark face flushing angrily. His fists were
doubled, and if Blasius had been a younger man, I should have witnessed
the beginning of civil war in the camp of the agitators. But Enos held
his arm before the gray hairs of the ex-Communard, and before the
quarrel could be warmed by further words, there was an interruption that
turned all thoughts from private disputes. A man burst through the
swinging doors of the saloon and ran down to our table.
"Waldorf!" cried Parks.
I looked with interest at this leader of the Council of Nine--a tall,
large-faced man, whose square jaw, spare cheeks, and bulging brows gave
promise of force.
"It has come!" he cried.
"What?" cried Parks, springing to his feet. "The word from the
brethren?"
"Just as good," said Waldorf, waving a newspaper excitedly before the
group. "See this!" And as he unfolded the sheet we could see the
printed announcement of an extra edition.
Parks seized the paper, and cried out the headlines:
"Riot and Bloodshed--Pittsburgh in Flames--Railroad Shops Wrecked by a
Furious Mob--Troops Cooped up in the Roundhouse and Compelled to
Surrender! Fighting in Baltimore. Mob Law Rules a Dozen Cities."
The men about the table looked at one another in silence, and the pallor
of fear or excitement spread upon their faces.
"That's the signal," said Waldorf. "I wish we were better prepared."
"Prepare'!" cried Blasius scornfully. "We need no more. We have arrms.
We can make ze barricade. We have leaders--plans. All we need is ze
brave heart, and--_boum_!--we arre ze government!"
"What are you going to do?" asked Kearney uneasily. I saw that he was
not in the full confidence of the Council of Nine, and was disturbed at
this glimpse of its plans.
"Here's what we are going to do," said Parks, who had resumed his seat
and scribbled a few words on a sheet of paper. "This news settles the
plans for to-morrow night's meeting, and this is the way we'll call it."
And he read out his composition with fervor: