melters they are whacking our people right and left--Three
in an ambulance?--The Slavs won't take it? Cop badly hurt?" asked Fenn.

Grant Adams groaned, and put his head in his hand, and leaned on the
desk. He rose up suddenly with a flaming face and said: "I'm going down
there--I can stop it."

He bolted from the room and rattled down the stairs. In a minute he came
running up. "Violet--" he called to the woman who was busy at the
telephone--"shut that man off and order a car for me quick--they've
stolen my crank and cut every one of my tires. For God's sake be
quick--I must get down to those Slavs."

In a moment Violet had shut off her interviewer, and was calling the
South Harvey Garage. Henry Fenn, busy with his phone, looked up with a
drawn face and cried:

"Grant--the Cossacks--the Cossacks are riding down those little Italians
in Sands Park--chasing them like dogs from the paths--they say the
cavalry is using whips!"

Grant stood with bowed head and arched shoulders listening. The muscles
of his jaw contracted, and he snapped his teeth.

"Any one hurt?" he asked. Fenn, with the receiver to his ear went on,
"The Dagoes are not fighting back--the cavalrymen are shooting in the
air, but--the lines are broken--the scabs are marching to the mines
through a line of soldiers--we've stopped about a third from the
cars--they are forming at the upper end of the Park--our men, they--"

"Good-by," shouted Grant, as he heard a motor car whirring in the
distance.

Turning out of the street he saw a line of soldiers blocking his way. He
had the driver turn, and at the next corner found himself blocked in.
Once more he tried, and again found himself fenced in. He jumped from
the car, and ran, head down, toward the line of young fellows in khaki
blocking the street. As he came up to them he straightened up, and,
striking with his hook a terrific blow, the bayonet that would have
stopped him, Grant caught the youth's coat in the steel claw, whirled
him about and was gone in a second.

He ran through alleys and across commons until he caught a street car
for the smelters. Here he heard the roar of the riot. He saw the new
ax-handles of the policemen beating the air, and occasionally thudding
on a man's back or head. The Slavs were crying and throwing clods and
stones. Grant ran up and bellowed in his great voice:

"Quit it--break away--there, you men. Let the cops alone. Do you want to
lose this strike?"

A policeman