tied, they had pulled the claw off and his poor stumped arm was
showing and he was bleeding--oh, Laura."

Brotherton fumbled in his pocket and handed an envelope to her.

"'George,' he panted, as I tried to make him comfortable--'have Nate
look after father.' And when Nate had gone he whispered between gasps,
'that letter there in the court room--' He had to stop a moment, then he
whispered again, 'is for her, for Laura.' He tried to smile, but the
blood kept bubbling up. We lifted him into an easier position, but
nothing helped much. He realized that and when we quit he said:

"'Now then, George, promise me this--they're not to blame. John
Kollander isn't to blame. It was funny; Kyle Perry saw him as I did, and
Kyle--' he almost laughed, Laura.

"'Kyle,' he repeated, 'tried to yell at old John, but got so excited
stuttering, he couldn't! I'm sure the fellows didn't intend--' he was
getting weak; 'this,' he said.

"'Promise me and make--others; you won't tell. I know father--he won't.
They're not--it's--society. Just that,' he said. 'This was society!' He
had to stop. I felt his hand squeeze. 'I'm--so--happy,' he said one word
at a time, gripping my hand tighter and tighter till it ached."
Brotherton put out his great hand, and looked at it impersonally, as one
introducing a stranger for witness. Then Brotherton lifted his eyes to
Laura's and took up his story:

"'That's hers,' he said; 'the letter,' and then 'my messages--happy.'"

The woman pressed her letter to her lips and looked at the white door.
She rose and, holding her letter to her bosom, closed her eyes and stood
with a hand on the knob. She dropped her hand and turned from the white
door. The dawn was graying in the ugly street. But on the clouds the
glow of sunrise blushed in promise. She walked slowly toward the street.
She gazed for a moment at the glorious sky of dawn.

When her eyes met her friend's, she cried:

"Give me your hand--that hand!"

She seized it, gazed hungrily at it a second, then kissed it
passionately. She looked back at the white door, and shook with sobs as
she cried:

"Oh, you don't think he's there--there in the night--behind the door? We
know--oh, we do know he's out here--out here in the dawn."

CHAPTER LI

IN WHICH WE END AS WE BEGAN AND ALL LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER

The great strike in the Wahoo Valley now is only an episode in the
history of this struggle of labor for its rights. The episode is
receding y