le that is serious--as I said before and
you'll agree, you'd have to let me help you--even if to do it I should
have to give up my work for a while and take up something that will
pay."

"No sir!"

"Yes sir," he replied. "Unless you can earn enough money yourself."

We looked at each other a moment.

"You know how to bring pressure, don't you?" I said.

"Yes, I'm bringing pressure. I want to see you go on as before."

"That won't be easy," I remarked.

"Shall we talk it over a little?"

"Yes."

"All right," he said. "Since that talk we had together the day
Eleanore's first child was born, what a splendid start you made in your
writing. You were not only earning big pay, you were doing fine work,
work that was leading somewhere. I could see you learning to use your
tools, getting a broad, sane view of life--and of yourself--training
yourself and building yourself. You were right on the threshold of big
results. But then your friend Kramer came along. He had not built
himself, he had chucked himself over, neglected himself, his health
included. So he took typhoid and came to your home. His being there was
a drain on your pocket and a heavy strain on your nerves. He got you
unsettled. Then came the strike. And what has it done? It has taken your
time, health, money. It has left two good workmen stranded--you and me.
And I don't see that it's done the crowd any good. What has the strike
given you in return for all it has taken away?"

"A deeper view of life," I said. "I saw something in that strike so much
bigger than Marsh or Joe or that crude organization of theirs--something
deep down in the people themselves that rises up out of each one of them
the minute they get together. And I believe that power has such
possibilities that when it comes into full life not all the police and
battleships and armies on earth can stop it."

The look in Dillon's eyes was more anxious than impatient.

"Billy," he said, "I've lived a good deal closer than you have to the
big jobs of this world. And I know those jobs are to get still bigger,
even more complex. They're to require even bigger men." I smiled a bit
impatiently.

"Still the one man in a million," I said.

"Yes," said Dillon, "his day isn't over, it has only just begun. He may
have his bad points--I'll admit he has--but compared to all the little
men his vision is wide and it goes deep. And if they'll only leave him
alone and give him a chance, he'll take me and