So they gathered, until about thirty were present, and then the
meeting speedily got down to business. It was evident, said Grady,
that the authorities had deliberately framed-up the dynamite
conspiracy, in order to have an excuse for wiping out the I. W. W.
organization; they had closed the hall, and confiscated everything,
typewriters and office furniture and books--including a book on
Sabotage which they had turned over to the editor of the “Evening
Times”! There was a hiss of anger at this. Also, they had taken to
interfering with the mail of the organization; the I. W. W. were
having to get out their literature by express. They were fighting
for their existence, and they must find some way of getting the
truth to people. If anybody had any suggestions to make, now was the
time.
There came one suggestion after another; and meantime Peter sat as
if his chair were full of pins. Why didn’t they come--the younger
members of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants’ and
Manufacturers’ Association--and do what they were going to do
without any further delay? Did they expect Peter to sit there all
night, trembling with alarm--and he not having any dinner besides?
Suddenly Peter gave a jump. Outside came a yell, and Donald Gordon,
who was making a speech, stopped suddenly, and the members of the
company stared at one another, and some sprang to their feet. There
were more yells, rising to screams, and some of the company made for
the front doors, and some for the back doors, and yet others for the
windows and the staircase. Peter wasted no time, but dived into the
clothes closet in the hallway back of the living-room, and got into
the farthest corner of this closet, and pulled some of the clothes
on top of him; and then, to make him safer yet, came several other
people piling on top of him.
From his place of refuge he listened to the confusion that reigned.
The place was a bedlam of women’s shrieks, and the curses of
fighting men, and the crash of overturning furniture, and of clubs
and monkey-wrenches on human heads. The younger members of the
Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants’ and Manufacturers’
Association had come in sufficient force to make sure of their
purpose. There were enough to crowd the room full, and to pack all
the doorways, and two or three to guard each window, and a flying
squadron to keep watch for anybody who jumped from the roof or tried
to hide in the trees of the garden.
Peter cowered, and listened to the furious uproar, and presently he
heard the cries of those on top of him, and realized that they were
being pulled off and clubbed; he felt hands reach down and grab him,
and he cringed and cried in terror; but nothing happened to him, and
presently he glanced up and he saw a man wearing a black mask, but
easily to be recognized as McGivney. Never in all his life had Peter
been gladder to see a human face than he was to see that masked face
of a rat! McGivney had a club in his hand, and was dealing ferocious
blows to the clothes heaped around Peter. Behind McGivney were
Hammett and Cummings, covering the proceedings, and now and then
carefully putting in a blow of their own.
Most of the fighting inside the house and outside came quickly to an
end, because everybody who fought was laid out or overpowered. Then
several of the agents of Guffey, who had been studying these Reds
for a year or two and knew them all, went about picking out the ones
who were especially wanted, and searching them for arms, and then
handcuffing them. One of these men approached Peter, who instantly
fell unconscious, and closed his eyes; then Hammett caught him under
the armpits and Cummings by the feet, and McGivney walked alongside
as a bodyguard, remarking now and then, “We want this fellow, we’ll
take care of him.”
They carried Peter outside, and in the darkness he opened his eyes
just enough to see that the street was lined with automobiles, and
that the Reds were being loaded aboard. Peter’s friends carried him
to one car and drove him away, and then Peter returned to
consciousness, and the four of them sat up and laughed to split
their sides, and slapped one another on the back, and mentioned the
satisfactory things they had seen. Had Hammett noticed that slice
Grady had got over the eyes, and the way the blood had run all over
him? Well, he wanted to be a Red--they had helped him be one--inside
and out! Had McGivney noticed how “Buck” Ellis, one of their men,
had put the nose of the hobo poet out of joint? And young Ogden, son
of the president of the Chamber of Commerce, had certainly managed
to show how he felt about these cattle, the female ones as well as
the males; when that Yankovich slut had slapped his face, he had
caught her by the breasts and nearly twisted them off, and she had
screamed and fainted!
Yes, they had cleaned them out. But that wasn’t all of it, they were
going to finish the job tonight, by God! They were going to give
these pacifists a taste of the war, they were going to put an end to
the Red Terror in American City! Peter might go along if he liked
and see the good work; they were going into the country, and it
would be dark, and if he kept a mask on he would be quite safe. And
Peter said yes; his blood was up, he was full of the spirit of the
hunt, he wanted to be in at the death, regardless of everything.