nd in it a Poor Wise Man, And he by his wisdom
delivered the city.--Ecclesiastes IX:14, 15.

The general strike occurred two days later, at mid-day. During the
interval a joint committee representing the workers, the employers and
the public had held a protracted sitting, but without result, and by
one o'clock the city was in the throes of a complete tie-up. Laundry and
delivery wagons were abandoned where they stood. Some of the street cars
had been returned to the barns, but others stood in the street where the
crews had deserted them.

There was no disorder, however, and the city took its difficulties with
a quiet patience and a certain sense of humor. Bulletins similar to the
ones used in Seattle began to appear.

"Strikers, the world is the workers' for the taking, and the workers are
the vast majority in society. Your interests are paramount to those of a
small, useless band of parasites who exploit you to their advantage. You
have nothing to lose but your chains and you have a world to gain. The
world for the workers."

There was one ray of light in the darkness, however. The municipal
employees had refused to strike, and only by force would the city go
dark that night. It was a blow to the conspirators. In the strange
psychology of the mob, darkness was an essential to violence, and by
three o'clock that afternoon the light plant and city water supply had
been secured against attack by effectual policing. The power plant for
the car lines was likewise protected, and at five o'clock a line of
street cars, stalled on Amanda Street, began to show signs of life.

The first car was boarded by a half dozen youngish men, unobtrusively
ready for trouble, and headed by a tall youth who limped slightly and
wore an extremely anxious expression. He went forward and commenced
a series of experiments with levers and brake, in which process
incidentally he liberated a quantity of sand onto the rails. A moment
later the car lurched forward, and then stopped with a jerk.

Willy Cameron looked behind him and grinned. The entire guard was piled
in an ignoble mass on the floor.

By six o'clock volunteer crews were running a number of cars, and had
been subjected to nothing worse than abuse. Strikers lined the streets
and watched them, but the grim faces of the guards kept them back. They
jeered from the curbs, but except for the flinging of an occasional
stone they made no inimical move.

By eight o'clock it was clear that