nt of civilization! Well,
say--thus endeth the reading of the first lesson!"

As they stood in the corner transfer shed waiting for the car, Grant
Adams came up. "Say, Grant," called Brotherton, "what you goin' to do
about that barbed wire trocha?"

"Oh," smiled Grant, "I've just about settled it. The boys will begin on
it this afternoon. A lot of them were angry when they heard what the
owners were up to, but I said, 'Here: we've got justice on our side. We
claim a partnership interest in all those mines and factories down
there. We contend that we who labor there now are the legatees of all
the labor that's been killed and maimed and cheated by long hours and
low wages down in the Valley for thirty years, and if we have a
partnership right in those mines and factories, it's our business to
protect them.' So I talked the boys into putting up the trocha. I tell
you, George," said Grant, and the tremor of emotion strained his voice
as he spoke, "it won't be long until we'll have a partnership in that
trocha, just as we'll have an interest in every hammer and bolt, and
ledge and vein in the Valley. It's coming, and coming fast--the
Democracy of Labor. I have faith, the men and women have faith--all over
the Valley. We've found the right way--the way of peace. When labor has
proved its efficiency--"

"Ah--you're crazy, Grant," snapped the Captain. "This class of people
down here--these ignorant foreigners--why, they couldn't run a peanut
stand--eh?"

Dick Bowman and his son came up, and not knowing a discussion was in the
wind, Dick shook hands around. And after the Captain had taken his
uptown car, Grant stood apart, lost in thought, but Dick said: "Well,
Benny, we got here in time for the car!" Then craning his long neck, the
father laughed: "Ben, here's a laboring man and his shift goes on at
one--so he's in a hurry, but we'll make it."

"Dick," began Brotherton, looking at the thin shadow of a man who was
hardly Brotherton's elder by half a dozen years. "Dick, you're a kind of
expert father, you and Joe Calvin, and to-day Joe's a granddaddy--tell
me about the kiddies--are they worth it?"

Bowman threw his head back and craned his long neck. "Not for us--not
for us poor--maybe for you people here," said Bowman, who paused and
counted on his fingers: "Eight born, three dead--that's too many. Joe
Calvin, he's raised all his and they're doing fairly well. That's his
girl in here--ain't it?" Bowman sighed. "Her and m