ch had made it. The town, as he came to conceive it, was a
fevered and struggling gnome, bound to a wheel which ground for others;
a gnome who, if he broke his bonds, would be perhaps only the worse for
his freedom. At the beginning of the sixth day, for his stay had
outgrown its original plan, the pocket-ledger, 3 T 9901, was but little
the richer, but the mind of its owner teemed with impressions.

It was his purpose to take those impressions in person to Mr. Horace
Vanney, by the 10 A.M. train. Arriving at the station early, he was
surprised at being held up momentarily by a line of guards engaged in
blocking off a mob of wailing, jabbering women, many of whom had
children in their arms, or at their skirts. He asked the ticket-agent, a
big, pasty young man about them.

"Mill workers," said the agent, making change.

"What are they after?"

"Wanta get to the 10.10 train."

"And the guards are stopping them?"

"You can use your eyes, cantcha?"

Using his eyes, Banneker considered the position. "Are those fellows on
railroad property?"

"What is it to you whether they are or ain't?"

Banneker explained his former occupation. "That's different," said the
agent. "Come inside. That's a hell of a mess, ain't it!" he added
plaintively as Banneker complied. "Some of those poor Hunkies have got
their tickets and can't use 'em."

"I'd see that they got their train, if this was my station," asserted
Banneker.

"Yes, you would! With that gang of strong-arms against you."

"Chase 'em," advised Banneker simply. "They've got no right keeping your
passengers off your trains."

"Chase 'em, ay? You'd do it, I suppose."

"I would."

"How?"

"You've got a gun, haven't you?"

"Maybe you think those guys haven't got guns, too."

"Well, all I can say is, that if there had been passengers held up from
their trains at my station and I didn't get them through, _I_'d have
been through so far as the Atkinson and St. Philip goes."

"This railroad's different. I'd be through if I butted in on this mill
row."

"How's that?"

"Well, for one thing, old Vanney, who's the real boss here, is a
director of the road."

"So _that_'s it!" Banneker digested this information. "Why are the women
so anxious to get away?"

"They say"--the local agent lowered his voice--"their children are
starving here, and they can get better jobs in other places. Naturally
the mills don't want to lose a lot of their hands, particularly the
wome