dinner of baked beans"--and I smacked--"and home made bread" and I
smacked again--"and pumpkin pie"--and I smacked a third time--"that will
make your mouth water."

All this smacking and the description of baked beans and pumpkin pie
had an odd counter effect upon ME; for I suddenly recalled my own tragic
state. So I jumped up quickly and asked directions for getting down to
the mill neighbourhood, where I hoped to find Bill Hahn. My friend Healy
instantly volunteered the information.

"And now," I said, "I want to ask a small favour of you. I'm looking for
a friend, and I'd like to leave my bag here for the night."

"Sure, sure," said the Irishman heartily. "Put it there in the
office--on top o' the desk. It'll be all right."

So I put it in the office and was about to say good-bye, when my friend
said to me:

"Come in, partner, and have a drink before you go"--and he pointed to a
nearby saloon.

"Thank you," I answered heartily, for I knew it was as fine a bit of
hospitality as he could offer me, "thank you, but I must find my friend
before it gets too late."

"Aw, come on now," he cried, taking my arm. "Sure you'll be better off
for a bit o' warmth inside."

I had hard work to get away from them, and I am as sure as can be that
they would have found supper and a bed for me if they had known I needed
either.

"Come agin," Healy shouted after me, "we're glad to see a farmer any
toime."

My way led me quickly out of the well-groomed and glittering main
streets of the town. I passed first through several blocks of quiet
residences, and then came to a street near the river which was garishly
lighted, and crowded with small, poor shops and stores, with a saloon on
nearly every corner. I passed a huge, dark, silent box of a mill, and I
saw what I never saw before in a city, armed men guarding the streets.

Although it was growing late--it was after nine o'clock--crowds
of people were still parading the streets, and there was something
intangibly restless, something tense, in the very atmosphere of the
neighbourhood. It was very plain that I had reached the strike district.
I was about to make some further inquiries for the headquarters of the
mill men or for Bill Hahn personally, when I saw, not far ahead of me, a
black crowd of people reaching out into the street. Drawing nearer I
saw that an open space or block between two rows of houses was literally
black with human beings, and in the centre on a raised pl