n our car-windows and soaped our rails and
let drive such pygmy projectiles as coupling-pins, a wild switch engine
or two, and blazing freight-cars at us as we came in awhile ago."

"Our people are in no wise connected with that," cried Elmendorf. "All
this alleged violence is the work of lawless classes whom we cannot
control, or of the emissaries of the railways themselves. It has been
grossly and purposely exaggerated."

"Oh! Then all this rioting is done by outsiders, not by your friends the
strikers, who heartily condemn the whole business, do they?"

"Most assuredly. We have forbidden violence in any and every form."

"I see. And yet the rabble and the railway folks have insisted on it.
Well, now, how grateful you ought to be to the President for ordering us
here to help you suppress them! Really, Mr. Elmendorf, I am glad to find
we are on the same side of this question, after all." But here a shout
of laughter drowned Kenyon's words and drove Elmendorf frantic.

"You don't understand," he almost shrieked. "It is our people who are
intimidated,--beaten back in the moment of victory." And then some of
the crowd, now thronging the open space in front of the battalion, began
to cheer. A man pushed through, handed Kenyon a telegram, and whispered
a few words in his ear. Kenyon glanced quickly around upon the
multitude now surging close about the group, and stepped back a few
paces to read his despatch. Elmendorf followed, eager to resume his
harangue. Kenyon uplifted his hand. "Pardon me now, Mr. Elmendorf. I
have business to attend to." But Elmendorf was wild with excitement and
wrath. He had been laughed at,--he, the mover of millions. Here were
already a thousand fellow-citizens at his back, and more coming. From
the freight-yards up and down the tracks, from the docks, the elevators,
the neighboring saloons, they were swarming to the scene. There in
double rank stood the four compact little companies of regulars in the
business-like rig of blue and brown, resting on their arms, chatting in
low tones, or calmly surveying from under the broad hat-brims the
gathering crowd. To their right and left, up and down the long vista of
train-sheds, letting themselves down from overarching bridges, or
pushing boldly past the feeble railway police, hundreds of tough-looking
citizens were slowly closing in. Back of the battalion, separated from
it by only two tracks, were long files of passenger and Pullman cars,
behind whi