en at the trees and the hills and the sky and be friendly with all
men."

I cannot express the sense of comfort, and of trust, which this
reflection brought me. I recall stopping just then at the corner of a
small green city square, for I had now reached the better part of the
city, and of seeing with keen pleasure the green of the grass and the
bright colour of a bed of flowers, and two or three clean nursemaids
with clean baby cabs, and a flock of pigeons pluming themselves near a
stone fountain, and an old tired horse sleeping in the sun with his nose
buried in a feed bag.

"Why," I said, "all this, too, is beautiful!" So I continued my walk
with quite a new feeling in my heart, prepared again for any adventure
life might have to offer me.

I supposed I knew no living soul in Kilburn but Bill the Socialist. What
was my astonishment and pleasure, then in one of the business streets
to discover a familiar face and figure. A man was just stepping from an
automobile to the sidewalk. For an instant; in that unusual environment,
I could not place him, then I stepped up quickly and said:

"Well, well, Friend Vedder."

He looked around with astonishment at the man in the shabby clothes--but
it was only for an instant.

"David Grayson!" he exclaimed, "and how did YOU get into the city?"

"Walked," I said.

"But I thought you were an incurable and irreproachable countryman! Why
are you here?"

"Love o' life," I said; "love o' life."

"Where are you stopping?" I waved my hand.

"Where the road leaves me," I said. "Last night I left my bag with some
good friends I made in front of a livery stable and I spent the night in
the mill district with a Socialist named Bill Hahn."

"Bill Hahn!" The effect upon Mr. Vedder was magical.

"Why, yes," I said, "and a remarkable man he is, too."

I discovered immediately that my friend was quite as much interested in
the strike as Bill Hahn, but on the other side. He was, indeed, one of
the directors of the greatest mill in Kilburn--the very one which I had
seen the night before surrounded by armed sentinels. It was thrilling to
me, this knowledge, for it seemed to plump me down at once in the middle
of things--and soon, indeed, brought me nearer to the brink of great
events than ever I was before in all my days.

I could see that Mr. Vedder considered Bill Hahn as a sort of devouring
monster, a wholly incendiary and dangerous person. So terrible, indeed,
was the warning he