Beadle's Dime Library No. 412 — page 15: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

2 ‘he? ; a Vi : , , Larry Locke, the Man of Iron. 15 = to sustain strikes, and the moment you join you become entitled to that fund, if a strike is ordered. What we want todo is to get in every man in the trade. ‘The bosses have their Unions, and it’s their business to save all the wages they can. We don’t blame them. It’s our business to get all we can, and they can’t blame us. If we all stick together we can make them come down, but if any man or men give way, it makes the strike just so much tho longer.” The men listened intently, and Maguire asked respectful y: ‘* And d’ye mane to say, sir, that av we j ine the Order the men in the other places will help us to get betther wages?” ‘Of course I do. That’s the object of the Order. But it will take time to bring you all in. You'll have to save money, and pay dues; for dues are what we want. Capital we must have, That’s all that makes the difference between us and the bosses. They have saved wages and added to them. We spend our wages, When ou have all the men of all the mills then it will be time to say to the bosses that you want the old scale. They can’t get any men from other places, for the Order will forbid it. And if the Knights of Labor do that everywhere, the bosses will have to come down in a week.” His words seemed to set the men to thinking, for there was a short silence, till Maguire ob- served, hesitatingly: ‘‘And what ye say’s very true, sir, but how will we get into the Order at all” ‘‘That’s what I came here to show you. Say the word how many want to join, and I can initiate you all to-night, if you like.” ‘“‘To-night!” echoed one of the men with a start. ‘‘ Not to-night. Give us a little time.” ‘¢ And why not to-night?’ asked Larry Locke, who spoke for the first time, and, as he said it, he walked into the middle of the circle, his shcrt, sturdy figure ope more defiant than usual. ‘*Why put it off a day? You gave in to the boss three months ago, and if you go back to work now, he’ll find out what’s been done here to-night, and discharge you all. Why shouldn’t He's not afraid of you. For all we know, ‘ there’s one of his spies here this very moment. 'I struck when you gave in, and I’ve been get- —< } | ting the old scale ever since outin Ohio. I’ve come back here because my people were here, and I’ve come to stay with you and to make Boss Skinner give you back the old wages, To- night’s the time. I want to start the first Holesburg assembly. Who'll go in with me?” Be | will ” said Maguire, drawing a deep breath and speaking with an effort. ‘And I,” ‘* And I,” said two other men, ‘“Very pood,” observed Shaw, quietly; “a small beginning’s better than nothing. The Order began in two men, and now it has a mil- lion. I tell you, men, we’ve made a beginning and we'll bring the bosses to terms yet,” Then he turned to Larry, Have you a back room, a quiet one, where we shall be safe from interruption, and be able to do the initiation?” Tarry hesitated. ‘* Nothing but the et. ‘¢ That will do,” said Shaw, prouptly. these other men had better retire, unless want to join. We take only true men.” ‘* And what kind of a thing is this initiation?” asked another man, hesitatingly. ‘You'll find out if you join, and you won’t if you don’t,” said Shaw, sharply. ‘‘We want some room, gentlemen.” ‘‘ But I want to join,” said the man. ‘¢ And so do I,” ** And I,” *‘ And I,” said three others. Curiosity as to the secrets of a society had driven them in when principle was too weak, and in half an hour afterwatd Larry’s little arret was crowded with candidates for the Grier and thirty-seven men were mustered in that night. The light in the attic window attracted much attention from other cottages in the vicinity, and more than one neighbor called on Molly to inquire what was going onat that time of night, but got no satisfaction from her. . As the clock struck ten, a gentleman passing in a dog-cart returning from a late expedition passed before the light, and muttered to the companion beside him: ; ‘‘What’s he doing up at this time of night? Some mischief, I’ll be bound, father.” The other person on the seat grunted. ‘‘Let him do his utmost. If Van Slack’s right, I can arrest him for conspiracy if he tries to make trouble.” That's empty.” pty.” they CHAPTER XXTI, THE NEW STRIKE. THREE weeks later, Marcellus Skinner was in his office when he heard a knock at the door, and Mr. Van Slack, his lawyer, a weazened lit- tle man, came in. Skinner turned manding: oer Well, what news’? Mr. Van Slack rubbed his hands. “ Locke’s time is up to-morrow, and he has served no notice of appearance. What shall I do if he doesn’t come up?” on him eagerly and quickly, es ** Put him out; sell him up; drive him out of | The man made no answer, but tried to get the place,” cried Skinner, eagerly. the scoundrel sup scrrow for it. I sha’n’t be easy till he’s driven to the poor-house. I don’t see how he has dared to come back here. He is not at work anywhere that I know; but he struts about the street as if he was a lord.” Van Slack rubbed his hands again. ‘* By the by, I must tell you one thing. He has made an informal! offer to me—” ‘What was it?’ asked Skinner, quickly. ‘* Tt seems he has saved three hundred dollars, and he wanted to pay that and give me a fresh mortgage, to run three years.” ‘* And what did you say?” asked Skinner. **T told him I must see you first. Seriously, I think it a good offer. The place is well worth three times what will remain—” Marcellus interrupted him harshly: ‘*On no account. Do you suppose I want his paltry savings? No. I want todrive him out, to get his house, to get rid of him. TI hate the scoundrel. He’s plotting a strike with my men, and I’m bound to get rid of him.” Mr. Van Slack shrugged his shoulders. ‘* In that case it’s no business of mine. what’s necessary.” He went away, and Marcellus turned to his books again and began to look over his ledger, a book which had become his favorite reading of late, and mutter to himself as he read, on the flourishing state of affairs. Tom Trainor had gone out as usual; for his father, hard as flint to all the rest of the world, was foolishly fond of Tom and indulged him in money without stint. There was no one in the office but the old bookkeeper and a boy, when a sharp rap came at the inner glass door, and Skinner wheeled round to confront a crowd of workmen headed by no less a person than the hated Larry Locke, who was neatly dressed and had his hat in his hand. For one instant Marcellus Skinner felt a thrill of fear, and then he recovered his coolness to ask angrily: ‘“ What does this mean? How dare you come in here, you, Locke? Haven’t I forbid you this place, long ago?” Larry Locke appeared not to have heard him, for he only answered: ‘** This is Mr. Skinner, I believe, head of these iron mills? We represent the ub of Labor, and I’m Master Workman of this district.” ‘*The blazes you are!” said Skinner, with a bitter sneer. ‘‘ And what do you think I care for that?” ‘Simply this,” was the placid reply. ‘Our assembly counts all your hands in it, and—” ‘“Get out of here!” interrupted Skinner, harshly. ‘‘I don’t want to know you or your precious assembly.” try smiled. ‘* You're impolite, sir; then you wish the men to stop work, do you?” “*T don’t care who stops or goes on!” was the still more angry reply. ‘‘ When my men come to me I'll talk to them, I’ve nothing to do with you. Ts that your final reply?” asked Larry. “My final reply is: Get out!” And with that, Skinner went to the door and pointed to the outer yard. immediately put on his hat. rt, Sy COs Mr. Skinner,” he said; ‘‘ I’m not coming back to this office till you send for me. You understand that?” Then he wheeled round to the men and said, in his quietest tones: ‘*Go home.” One of the men in the rear of the group blew a whistle, and instantly the noise of hammers ceased, the whirring of the machinery bands slackened to silence, and the sounds of scuffling feet, with the buzz of conversation announced that the men had left their tasks an were streaming out to go home, as if it wére sunset, The group of men with Larry turned to the shop to get their clothes, and Larry himself, with a placid smile on his face, walked past Skinner, looking him in the eye, and thence into the street, Just as the men began to stream out. As for Marcellus, for some moments he was too much taken aback to say or do a thing; and then he rushed into the shop toward the gate and tried to bar the way of the stream of men coming out, ‘‘ Where are you going?” he shouted. “‘Go back to your work, you scoundrels! Ill discharge every one of you.” He had been used, during the last three months, to have them cringing before him, and expected to drive them back by sheer bullying, but he found his mistake. , Not one of the men looked at him in the face; I'll do but all pretended to be deeply interested in some- thing out in the street, while all kept pressing on in oe silence, as long as they were near him, though outside of that circle, a loud buzz of conversation went on, and he heard some laughing: tung to the a at the evasions, he tried to single out an individual, and finally grabbed a small man by the throat, crying: ‘* Where are you going?” | | ‘*Tl make | out of his grasp, while Skinner shook him and screamed excitedly: ' ‘‘Confound your insolence, why don’t you give me a civil answer? Where are you—” The word was cut short in his mouth by the end of a coat which was slashed in his face and eyes from behind, and as he let go the little man instinctively, to turn on his assailant, half- blinded, the workmen set on him with their coats slashing him from all sides, with an unan- imity and heartiness that bale ee him from seeing who was assaulting him, for every blow came from behind, and took him over the eyes and mouth, till he roared aloud and crouched down, hiding his head in his arms, Then some one gave him a kick from behind, which sent him on his knees, and a moment later he was thrown on his face and a crowd of men deliberately sat down on him, while the shuffling of feet past him went on as before, and every one seemed to be laughing at him. All bis struggles were in vain; for nearly a ton weight lay on him, pinning ‘him to the ground; and presently he began to groan, when | a voice above him said sternly: ‘* Will ye lay still and not luke, av we let ye up, ye old spalpeen?” ‘Yes, yes,” grunted Skinner, as well as he could speak, and with that they rose up; but two men kept their feet on his shoulders as the crowd passed him, and he lay on his face, not daring to look up, till the pressure was ree moved. When he did look at last,the tail end of the crowd was going out tbrough the gate and he could not recognize any one. ‘ His ‘‘ crushers ’' had disappeared in the crowd, and he could not have eracka them, even had he wished so to do. But that was very far from his thoughts. Marcellus Skinner in his office, cowing his men by the force of money and resolution, had hardly realized what a power there is in nume- bers when the numbers become united. He had been cast down and trampled on till he felt limp as a rag and weak as a kitten. He knew well enough that only the forbear- ance of the men had saved his life, for he had put himself in their power by his rashness and over-confidence. A very much humiliated Marcellus it was who came into the office and sat down gloomily to think over matters. , . CHAPTER XXIII. LOCKING OUT. He had not sat there very long when he heard the rattle of wheels outside and saw his son, Tom Trainor, dash into the mill-yard in his dog-cart, pull up, all in a hurry, and rush to the door which he flun open and entered the office in a much demoralized condition. Tom had taken to gorgeous attire of late, and rejoiced much in diamond studs, sleeve-buttons and rings, which he was accustomed to flash in the eyes of all beholders to excite envy. ‘ He delighted in valet cutaways, pearl-gray trowsers, patent-leather boots, yellow dogskin gloves and gorgeous neckties, with the shiniest of hats, and such had been his array when he started out, but now it was sadly changed for the worse. His shiny hat was broken in and his velvet coat bespattered with mud, while some one had — apparently smashed a watermelon on his back, coat, while a on one cheek and stuck there. father? I don’t know—” ; ‘*What have they done to you?’ asked old Skinner, gloomily. ‘*T was driving up the street,” answered Tom, — met ‘em all coming out. confusedly, *‘ and matter, And all I asked them was what was the when they began.” “ And what did they do?” asked Skinner. “They hooted and jeered at me and one of them, Steve Rankin, called me a cursed lazy upstart pauper, and 1 got mad and cut him with my whip, and then they went for me. Lucky I drove fast, for I do believe they’d have. killed me. strike?” : ‘*'Yes,” answered Marcellus, prinding his teeth, “‘ that cursed Larry Locke has set them at it. He was in here, and said that he came to ALY the Knights of Labor. I don’t be~ eve it. ‘*But he was out there,” said Tom. and he | turned paler than before, if possible. ‘‘I heard him call to them to let me alone. He seems to be a sort of leader.” ‘Ts he? retorted his father. “I'll give him all the leadership he wants, curse him! Ill — have his house to-morrow, if he don’t pay me ~ He had the impudence to | every cent he owes. tell me that I should have to send for him before he came back here.” ee Tom seemed unusually nervous, for he fidget- ed about for some time, and at last said, in an — “we sort of way: sé I (Ele) m 900 al Pe vA. What is it? Have they gone on say, father, you don’t went to press bina i = ¥ ~~ a . cod * ‘ be » ‘ = ow,” + an" * ~ 4 . , rp ¥ oe >. ile es, “ La (é + ae - +, 5s ~ tae ra he - a eo * re. ’ 4 fries “ Ca - ~ ‘ *y) 748 mAs Os oy 4! <P 7 . fee for the pink juice and flesh were all over his ig lump of mud had taken 4 e He came in, pale and breathless, stammering: — | ‘What's the matter? What has happened, — os ee — : \ eo .~e - * 2 <7 ,) hh. ] A at - n P<) = iat i. &: ? « , A, *' Pca ra fe. ae] > >» f