r of little Joe Calvin's--why, he
might as well post a trespass notice against snowslides as against this
forward moving cause of labor." His voice rose, "I'm here to tell you
that under your rights as citizens of this Republic, and under your
rights in the coming Democracy of Labor, I bid you tear up these martial
law proclamations to kindle fires in your stoves."

He glared at the policemen and held up his hand to stop them as they
came. "Listen," he cried, "I'm going to give you better evidence than
that against me. I, as the leader of this strike--take this down, Mr.
Stenographer, there--I'll say it slowly; I, as the leader of this
movement of the Democracy of Labor, as the preacher preaching the era of
good will and comradeship all over the earth, bid you, my
fellow-workers, meet to preach Christ's workingman's gospel wherever you
can hire a hall or rent a lot, to parade your own streets, and to bare
your heads to clubs and your breasts to bullets if need be to restore in
this district the right of trial by jury in times of peace. And
now,"--the crowd roared its approval. He glared defiance at the
policemen. He raised his voice above the din, "And now I want to tell
you something more. Our property in these mills and mines--" again the
crowd bellowed its joyous approval of his words and Grant's face lighted
madly, "our property--the property we have earned, we must guard against
the violence of the very master class themselves; for under this
infernal Russian ukase of little Joe Calvin, the devil only knows what
arson and loot and murder--" the crowd howled wildly; a policeman blew
his whistle and when the melee was over Grant Adams was in the midst of
the blue-coated squad marching toward the gate.

At the gate, on a pawing white horse, sat young Joe Calvin. The crowd,
following the officers, came upon the first squad of policemen--the
squad that took Laura Van Dorn from the stand. The two squads joined
with their prisoners, and back of the officers came the yelling, hooting
crowd, pushing the officers along. As the officers came up, the provost
marshal cried:

"Turn them over to my men here. Men, handcuff them together." In an
instant it was done.

Then the cavalry formed in two lines, and between them marched Laura Van
Dorn and Grant Adams, manacled together. Up through the weed-grown
commons between South Harvey and the big town they marched under the
broiling sun. The crowd trudged after them--trailing beh