The Free lance., October 01, 1903, Image 15

stockade, and the buildings painted with fire proof paint. All
non-union men went armed, and, as a rule, kept near the stockade.
Provisions were brought by a guarded train, and the number of
private police was increased. This was the company’s last strong
hold, and they meant to hdd out at any cost. Tom fully realized
that the crisis had been reached, but said nothing to increase the
anxiety of Bertha and his mother. From time to time he had
utterly ignored threatening letters, and on one occasion made a
reputation by the grotesque manner in which he disagreed with a
committee that had been sent to detain him. All these incidents
and the stubborn persistence of the strikers increased Tom’s anger
to enormous bounds; but he knew full well that it was no time to
be rash.
One morning in the last of September Tom felt that the time
had come. He left the house in his usual quiet manner. He
thought Bertha was more fearful, but he did not wish to increase
her fear. Before he reached the colliery he heard the cries of a
mob, but his education on the sea forbade him to turn back. With
never a trace of suspicion or fear, but with anger and hatred
that was only matched by his gigantic will, he walked steadily on.
He neared the mob. The road seemed blocked before him. yet
he moved on as if he neither saw nor heard the mob. Those who
saw his approach gazed, wondered and gave way. No one so
much as hissed at him. A sight to behold. Clothed as a working
man, carrying his pail and leisurely finishing his morning smoke,
while from his hip pocket protruded the stock of a thirty-eight cal
ibre. The clamor hushed. As if by magic the mob gave way, and he
passed through as unconcerned as if it were a circus crowd. He
stepped over the ropes, paused to knock the ashes from his pipe,
and crossed the intervening space between the ropes and the stock
ade. And it was not till he was safely out of sight that the clamor
was again resumed.
Are you mad or asleep,” cried the chief of the guard, as Tom
entered. “Mad,” was Tom’s prompt reply, “but that was no time
to show it.”
All was excitement within the stockade. Part of the track had
A Tale of the Strike .