other. "And don't steal, for if you do once you will
steal again, and by and by you'll get bolder and do worse. I've heard
men tell how they had begun by lifting a dicer in front of a clothing
store, or stealing a loaf of bread, and ended by committing murder. They
can't break this way always--brace up."

The switchman went over to the bar where a couple of non-union men were
shaking dice for the drinks. He recognized one of them as the man who
had taken his place in the yards, but he scarcely blamed him now.
Perhaps the fellow had been hungry, and the striker knew too well what
that meant. Presently, the switchman went back to the stove and began
to button his thin coat up about his throat.

"I'm dead broke myself," said the well-dressed stranger, "but I'm going
to help you if you'll let me."

As the striker stared at the stranger the man took off a sixty-dollar
overcoat and hung it over the switchman's arm. "Take it," he said, "it's
bran new; I just got it from the tailor this morning. Go out and sell it
and bring the money to me and I'll help you."

When the striker had been gone a quarter of an hour the well-dressed man
strolled up to the bar and ordered a cocktail. Fifteen minutes later he
took another drink and went out in front of the saloon. It was cold
outside and after looking anxiously up and down the street the
philanthropist re[:e]ntered the beer-shop and warmed himself by the big
stove. At the end of an hour he ordered another dose of nerve food and
sat down to think. It began to dawn upon him that he had been "had," as
the English say. Perhaps this fellow was an impostor, a professional
crook from New York, and he would sell the overcoat and have riotous
pastime upon the proceeds.

"The wife and baby story was a rank fake--I'm a marine," said the
well-dressed man taking another drink. It seemed to him that the task of
helping the needy was a thankless one, and he wished he had the overcoat
back again. He had been waiting nearly two hours when the switchman came
in. "I had a hard time finding a purchaser," explained the striker, "and
finally when I did sell it I could only get twelve dollars and they made
me give my name and tell how I came to have such a coat. I suppose they
thought I had stolen it and I dare say I looked guilty for it is so
embarrassing to try to sell something that really doesn't belong to you,
and to feel yourself suspected of having stolen it."

"And you told them that a gentle