r of a long, low structure sheathed with tarred paper
like the shacks. In the sunshine an occasional glint flashed above their
heads.

"Yes, their stingers are out," remarked the elderly man drily. "If
they've got Dominick cornered in that eating camp I'm thinking this will
be the day that he'll get his----whatever it is, they've laid up for
him."

"He promised me there should be no more weevils and no more spoiled
meat," cried the one who had been addressed as Parker, a young man whose
earnest face now expressed deep trouble. "As matters were going, those
Italians were half starved and doing hardly half a day's work in nine
hours. Their padrone was putting the food rake-off into his own pocket."

"I'm not backing up Dominick," said the other. "But when you took the
men's part and laid down the law to him on the grub question you gave
them their cue for general rebellion. Ten chances to one the padrone has
done as he agreed. I reckon you scared him enough for that. Now they're
probably around with knives looking for napkins and sparkling red wine.
I tell you, Parker, you're inviting trouble when you go to boosting up
what you call the oppressed multitude."

"That's a pretty hard view to take of the world and the people in it,
Mr. Searles," replied the youth. "There ought to be a bit of merit and
encouragement in a man's going out of his way to right a wrong."

"Well, Parker, I'm hired as construction engineer on the P. K. & R.
railroad system and I've worked for the road a good many years and found
that I get along best when I am attending strictly to my own business
in my own line. I told you at the time you butted into that dago row you
were laying up trouble either for yourself or for some one else--and I
guess it's some one else."

A series of pistol shots popped smartly on the hillside, the reports
partly muffled by the thin walls of the shack. The cries of the men
outside became shrieks. The next instant the side wall bellied outward
and then burst asunder. A man came hustling through the opening,
evidently self-propelled, for he struck lightly on his feet and began to
run down the steep hill. A soiled canvas apron fluttered at his waist.
Stones rained after him. The knot of men at the door scattered like
quicksilver and howling runners pursued him.

Probably fear helped him as much as agility, for he kept well ahead of
the rout, leaped a low fence at the bottom of the hill, scurried across
a little valley