mills
did not open; not enough strike-breakers appeared. So that afternoon, a
great procession of white-badged men and white-clad women and children,
formed in South Harvey, and, headed by the Foley Brass Band, marched
through Market Street and for five miles through the streets of Harvey
singing. Upon a platform carried by eight white-clad mothers, sat little
Ben Bowman swathed in white, waving a white flag in his hand, and
leading the singing. Over the chair on which he sat were these words on
a great banner. "For his legal rights and for all such as he we demand
that the law be enforced."

For two hours the procession wormed through Harvey. The streets were
crowded to watch it. It made its impression on the town. The elder
Calvin watched it with Mayor Ahab Wright, in festal side whiskers, from
the office of Calvin & Calvin. Young Joe Calvin from time to time came
and looked over their shoulders. But he was for the most part too busily
engaged, making out commissions for deputy sheriffs and extra policemen,
to watch the parade. As the parade came back headed for South Harvey,
the ear of the young man caught a familiar tune. He watched Ahab Wright
and his father to see if they recognized it. The placid face of the
Mayor betrayed no more consciousness of the air than did his immaculate
white necktie. The elder Calvin's face showed no appreciative wrinkles.
The band passed down the street roaring the battle hymn of labor that
has become so familiar all over the world. The great procession paused
uncovered in the street, while Little Ben waved his flag and raised his
clear, boyish voice with its clarion note and sang, as the procession
waved back. And at the spectacle of the crippled child, waving his one
little arm, and lifting his voice in a lusty strain, the sidewalk crowd
cheered and those who knew the tune joined.

Young Joe Calvin stood with his hands on the shoulders of the two
sitting men. "Mr. Mayor, do you know that tune?" said Young Joe.

Mr. Mayor, whose only secular tune was "Yankee Doodle," confessed his
ignorance. "Listen to the words," suggested Young Joe. Old Joe put his
hand to his right ear. Ahab Wright leaned forward, and the words of the
old, old cry of the Reds of the Midi came surging up:

"To arms! to arms!--ye brave!
The avenging sword unsheathe!
March on! March on! all hearts resolved
On victory or death."

When Ahab Wright caught the words he was open mouthed with aston