Blows and Counter-Blows
Less than twenty minutes later, a second Striking Sub-committee
arrived. Its members were eight in number, and their method of
swaggering hostility was such that I had no difficulty in repeating
my previous tactics. Before they realized what I was about, I had
gotten too close for them to see me clearly and I aimed my blows so
accurately that, in less than a minute, half the gang lay stretched
upon the floor. The others, not quite realizing what had struck them,
were not long in resorting to that discretion which most men prefer to
valor. Dashing to the door, they leaped upon their "scootscoots," which
awaited just without, and darted away with a lunatic recklessness,
while I stood staring after them with an amused smile. As yet I did not
suspect how tragic the occasion was to be.
While my felled opponents were staggering to their feet and retreating
by a side-entrance, the sound of a frightful crash came to my ears;
and, rushing out and around a bend in the gallery, I saw that a crowd
had gathered, while in their midst was a shapeless mass that I could
hardly recognize.
Horrified, I shielded my eyes from the sight; and only by degrees
did the dread truth dawn upon me; the escaping members of the
Sub-committee, in their haste, had collided with some other
"scootscoots," and all four members had been "turned over."
But such incidents being of daily occurrence, I tried not to let my
mind dwell upon it; and, returning to my seat in the Ventilation
Office, I quietly awaited the next development.
Not being good at presaging the future, I could not have known how
the news of my exploit was to spread; and how, fanned by rumor, it was
to grow to gigantic proportions. As luck would have it, a reporter for
the _Wakely Blare_, on the rampage for material, happened to be present
at the scene of the collision; and though he had small idea what had
happened, he had no hesitation about accepting the word of onlookers
who knew as little about the affair as he did. Consequently he radioed
his paper a story so good that the editor decided to make it headline
material--in other words, he printed it in red ink all over the front
page, while other news items were driven to footnotes on back pages.
This article--which is too long to repeat in its entirety--was to the
effect that a regiment of strike-breakers had appeared, no one knew
where from, under the leadership of a redoubtable giant capable of
"turning over" any adversary at a blow. So tremendous was the power of
this group that opponents were said to be under a fatal spell, so that
even fugitives from their vengeance came to certain disaster. As proof
of this fact, the paper cited the destruction of the four members of
the Sub-committee--whose numbers, however, were given as fourteen....
Now the speed of the papers of Wu in printing the news is phenomenal.
Thanks to automatic typesetters, which take down the articles from
radio dictation, a matter of only minutes need elapse between the
occurrence of an event and its appearance in print. In fact, on some
occasions the news is reported in "extra-extra" and "super-extra-extra"
editions even while the event is happening; it is recorded that once
the _Screamer_, in a special "scoop"--or "raid," as the natives call
it--announced the death of a high official seventeen minutes before he
actually breathed his last.
Hence it is not surprising that, less than half an hour after I had
routed the second Sub-committee, papers telling of the exploit were
being flaunted in all the main galleries by the newsgirls (there were
no newsboys, since all the boys had gone to war).
Now if truth be told, the _Blare_ was extremely glad of the opportunity
to print this story, since, like all the papers, it was owned by
a group of First Class citizens, and therefore was profoundly
"anti-strike," and eager to play up any account hostile to the
strikers. This it was which, along with the desire for circulation--for
which several newspaper proprietors had been known to commit
murder--explained the prompt featuring of the article.
Even so, the effect of the article would not have been possible had it
not been for one little weakness of the people of Wu. In most ways,
they are not a credulous folk; indeed, one may show them a plain fact
ninety-nine ways without convincing them; but when a statement is once
in print, they consider it inviolable. Never would it occur to them to
question any remark, once it has been subjected to the sacred art of
typography. They imagine that there is a sort of magic connected with
printer's ink, which abhors falsehood somewhat as water abhors fire,
and in this superstition the educated seem to share along with their
more ignorant brothers.
As a consequence, the rumor of my prowess, once it had attained the
dignity of a place in the _Blare_, had taken on the sanctity of
established knowledge.
* * * * *
In view of the fact that the circulation of the _Blare_ was somewhere
in the millions (it being prescribed as compulsory reading for all
persons with a mental age of twelve or under), it was not an hour
before I, along with my imagined regiment of supporters, had become a
subject of discussion for all Wu. And the effect upon the strikers may
well be imagined. It hit them in that vital spot, their morale, with
the result that many began to hesitate whether to remain on strike,
and in some districts it was reported that the men were going back to
work and ventilation was being restored. Most of all, the ignorant were
disturbed by that passage in the story which told of the "mysterious
spell" afflicting all opponents of the new strikebreaker. As this was
nothing tangible for anyone to combat, it was all the more capable of
arousing the terror of the masses, who, being well grounded in all the
precepts of thoughtlessness, were unable to save themselves by reason.
The consequence was such as to endanger the strike itself. The members
of the Central Strike Committee, threatened with disaffection on all
sides, began to fear that their movement would collapse ignominiously.
Hence they took immediate measures to hit back at the source of their
trouble.
It was only about two hours after the little episode between myself and
the second Striking Sub-committee, and I was lounging in my chair in
the Ventilation Office, finding things becoming just a little boresome.
The heavy, languid air, growing hot and foul now that the ventilation
had been turned off, was telling upon my nerves; I was getting anxious
to go into action again and do something more to end the strike. How I
would have welcomed the appearance of another Sub-committee!
But no Sub-committee called. Evidently none could be found to meet me
face to face, after the tales of my prowess! Instead, I was startled to
hear a rattling sound in a pneumatic tube just to my right, and to note
the arrival of a letter in a little steel container, which stated:
"_TO WHOMEVER IT MAY CONCERN_
"But most of all, to the strikebreaker who has been decimating our
men with an army corps of hired thugs.
"We extend our greetings, and suggest that you immediately withdraw
your horde of brigands.
"If you do not see fit to comply with this recommendation before the
close of the present wake, and to surrender your arms and position,
we shall make a complete turnover of you and your men.
"Yours, with many remembrances of the day,
"THE CENTRAL STRIKING COMMITTEE,
By order of the Grand Commander of the Silver Legion of Wu."
Now I must confess that I read these words not without a shudder.
The members of the Silver Legion, having been to war, had had long
experience in crime and hence were renowned for the blackness of their
deeds; and it seemed possible that they would make good their threat,
and, by means of Mulflar, the violet ray, or some other nefarious
device, would speedily "turn me over."
However, I had now gone too far to retreat; if I were to die, I would
at least die fighting. After thinking the matter over for a few
minutes, I came to the conclusion that, as I had little actual power,
my only hope lay in a good old-fashioned "bluff."
And so, without further waste of time, I wrote the following message:
* * * * *
"_To the Central Striking Committee_:
"I thank you for your respected communication, and for your
greetings, which I return herewith.
"I beg leave to inform you that I have no intention of withdrawing
with my host of patriotic followers. I suggest, for my part, that
you send in peace terms and settle the Ventilation Strike
immediately.
"Should you not do so, I shall lose no time in giving a
manifestation of my wrath.
"Yours, with the utmost courtesy,
"HIGH CHIEF COMMANDER CITIZENS' ANTI-STRIKE LEAGUE."
Having awarded myself this title as a final stroke of genius, I
dispatched the letter through a pneumatic tube and sat down to await
results.