to work out its
own fate. When he saw that he was most likely to drag Hoeflinger with
him to the claw, he directed all his efforts to accomplishing that
purpose. Now Hoeflinger grasped the bitter seriousness of the situation,
and his blows became heavier and more direct. But whenever he threw
Victor with a single blow against the railing, the young man jumped
upon him or against his legs, so desperately quick and brutal and
clever in his movements, that Hoeflinger saw the moment come when he
would have to fell him with a last well-aimed blow against the temples.
He believed that the Swiss had become insane.

Nevertheless he had seemed to notice before that the song of the idol
was growing weaker, and now he became fully conscious of it. Even
Victor in his God-forsaken mood became aware of it. He struggled a
while against this knowledge and continued to fight, but he was
startled by it and his attacks seemed to be aimed distractedly. The
disk whistled and started to ring the bells. As if struck in his heart,
Victor's hands dropped from Hoeflinger, and he turned around at the
idol. He looked about and about and was sobered. Behind the halls
another explosion was heard. The gearings dragged and cracked. Then the
machinery stopped. Victor collected his thoughts. It was far from
closing-hour, only the middle of the afternoon. His eyes sought
Hoeflinger as if to question him, but strayed aside bewildered and
turned to the sunbeams and their glaring torture. The siren cried. It
howled. It blew a triumphant blast. It played tricks like the sirens of
a merry-go-round or shoot-the-chutes. Finally it stopped on one note
which it repeated with full force, half a minute at the time, again and
again and always at the same pitch. The disk shone and shook
treacherously. Behind all the machines the forms of workingmen rose.
Victor was amazed at the number of men that these halls had held. Again
he looked at the long one, who contemplated him half pitifully, half
angrily. He braved that look for a second; then he east his eyes down
before the long feet of Hoeflinger and awaited his judgment. His heart
was beating in brief, timid beats. He could have been directly led to
his death without uttering a word or a plea.

Hoeflinger cleared his throat. "What is the matter with you, Pratteler?
Is that the way a union member treats a comrade?" His voice trembled
with suppressed emotion. Victor listened. His false repose was not
equal to this n