put his hand on Grant's shoulder to arrest him. Grant
brushed him aside.

"Break away there, boys," he called. The Slavs were standing staring at
him. Several bloody faces testified to the effectiveness of the
ax-handles.

"Stand back--stand back. Get to your lines," he called, glaring at them.
They fell under his spell and obeyed. When they were quiet he walked
over to them, and said gently:

"It's all right, boys--grin and bear it. We'll win. You couldn't help
it--I couldn't either." He smiled. "But try--try next time." The
strike-breakers were huddled back of the policemen.

"Men," he shouted to the strike-breakers over the heads of the
policemen, "this strike is yours as well as ours. We have money to keep
you, if you will join us. Come with us--comrades--Oh, comrades, stand
with us in this fight! Go in there and they'll enslave you--they'll
butcher you and kill you and offer you a lawsuit for your blood. We
offer you justice, if we win. Come, come," he cried, "fellow
workers--comrades, help us to have peace."

The policemen formed a line into the door of the shaft house. The
strike-breakers hesitated. Grant approached the line of policemen, put
up his arm and his maimed hand, lifted his rough, broken face skyward
and cried, "O--O--O, God, pour Thy peace into their hearts that they may
have mercy on their comrades."

A silence fell, the strike-breakers began to pass through the police
lines to join the strikers. At first only one at a time, then two. And
then, the line broke and streamed around the policemen. A great cheer
went up from the street, and Grant Adams's face twitched and his eyes
filled with tears. Then he hurried away.

It was eight o'clock and the picketing for the day was done, when Grant
reached his office.

"Well," said Fenn, who had Violet's notes before him, "it's considerably
better than a dog fall. They haven't a smelter at work. Two shafts are
working with about a third of a force, and we feel they are bluffing.
The glass works furnaces are cold. The cement mills are dead. They beat
up the Italians pretty badly over in the Park."

The _Times_ issued a noon extra to tell of the incident in front of
the smelter, and expatiated upon the Messianic myth. A tirade against
Grant Adams in black-faced type three columns wide occupied the center
of the first page of the extra, and in Harvey people began to believe
that he was the "Mad Mullah" that the _Times_ said he was.

When Dr. Nesbit dr