Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 85, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 April 1915 — CHAPTER IV. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

CHAPTER IV.

The Service of the Strong. To the nation had come a rare passion for building. It was tearing down Its old bams, to build anew, bigger and stronger. There were cities to be raised in the deserts; and they must be made stanch and lasting. The pioneer and his harvest must be carried, not by crawling conestoga and mule train, but by the power of steam. Men would go down to the sea no longer in ships of wood, but in floating palaces that mocked the storm. ’Those who made war were to be sheltered behind Impenetrable ramparts and, again, equipped with engines and missiles before which stoutest defenses crumbled. Toilers on land and sea must find In their hands new weapons, hard and keen and sure, to bring nature, her forces and treasures, into bondage and service. Therefore, steel! And, therefore, the army of steel workers. A strong west wind had sprung up during the night and the sun shone clear on the line of that day’s recruits. One by one they passed before a keeneyed youth—only the young officered this army—Who, after one glance, accepted or rejected. The enlisted were turned over to the timekeeper, who gave them numbered cards and assigned them to various waiting squads. A big Swede, a wiry little FrenchCanadian and a slow-moving Pole were passed. He nodded curtly to the next applicant. “All right! Get your card.” And this recruit was he who had accepted Thomas Henley’s challenge. The latter had already forgotten the Incident, but Mark was still hot with the determination to prove his mettle to the tamer.

He gave his name to the time-clerk and received his card, also the command, “Go with Houlahan’s gang." Thus, he reflected, he had taken the flrat step In his campaign of conquest —he was a private in Houlahan’s squad. “Git a move on!” thundered a voice in hte ear. "D’ye think yes arre a prathy shtuck in th’ grround? Marrch!” It was the voice of Houlahan. Mark marched. Corporal Houlahan had no romantic conception of his duties, and his tyranny was of a sort to give his underlings the realistic point of view. "Here, ye Oly—” “Ay bane Johann/* "Ye're Moike, ’f OFsay ut,” bellowed Houlahan. He enlarged upon Johann's dishonorable pedigree. "Dig in!" The Swede, the best worker in the gang, began to shovel in a nervous haste that added nothing to his efficiency. Mark saw the red creep into the fair skin. “Shtir it up, ye Frlnch loafer!" the corporal addressed the next in line. "We’re runnln* no barber shop here. F'r two cints Ol’d bate some worruk into yes." It was a tired and sadly fretted gang the noon whistle relieved. Mark stretched himself out on the ground, closing his eyes on the dinner pails his comrades produced; in his eagerness to be enlisted he had not thought of his midday meal, and he was very hungry. He felt a hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes. The Frenchman and the Swede sat beside him. "M'sleu ees ’ongree, ehr’ The Frenchman carefully broke a loaf of brown bread —all his meal—in the middle and proffered Mark one-half. "Un' firetyF’ The Swede held out a bottle filled with cold coffee. Mark looked covetously at the gifts, but he shook his head. "M’sleu ’ate dat dam* ’Oula’an?" the Frenchman inquired. "I do," Mark responded with fervor. "Dat mak* fr’en’s out of us, eh? Eat, m’sleu.'' Hunger overcame scruples. Mark ate the bread and drank the coffee. "Much obliged. I was hungry. You’re all right—” He paused inquiringly. "Marcel Masqueller," the Frenchman completed the sentence. "Johann Johannsen,” rolled from the region of the Swede’s stomach, k Mark identified himself. "Dat ver* good name.—Br-r-r!" The exclamation was for the corporal, who, with the labor boss, approached. The latter glanced over the excavation. "How many loads have you taken out?" "Thirty-nine, sor." "Only thirty-nine?" the boss rejoined sharply. "It ought to be fifty." ■ "The dom’d loafers won’t wonruk," Houlahan defended himself angrily. The boos east his swift appraising i •Übm trvw the nmtlna arounn

•K’s a good gang,” he said shortly. “And It’s your business to make ’em work.** He passed on. “We’ll get it now,** Mark muttered. “That Irish bully’ll never know how to get work out of men. I’d like to tell the boas so." Johann’s face began to work. “Ay skoll kill Mister Houlahan,” came his slow growl, “mebbe so.” “Mebbe so not." Marcel shrugged his shoulders. “One mus* leave. An* one mus* work. Eh?" “Steady, Johann!” counseled Mark. “Don’t let him rattle you.” “You NJsjt, Jo’ann?" Marcel added earnestly. “I *ave respec* for w’at my fr’en, M’sleu Mark Truitt, say.” They “got It,” indeed, that afternoon. The Irishman, under the etlng of his boss’ reproof, raged and cursed endlessly in the effort to get more work out of his men. The gang, irritable and sullen, worked erratically, with feverish spurts that brought inevitable reaction; the men became demoralized, Interfered with one another. Mark, some whim of the boss making him a special target for the fu*il-

lade of profanity, was hard put to keep his temper in leash; he was harder put to restrain the mutinous Swede, who itched with a desire for assassination. Toward the end of the day even the philosophic Marcel grew illnatured and snarling. Somehow Mark felt their hospitality of the noon hour had put upon him a responsibility for them, though they were, his seniors by at least ten years. “One must live, you know,” he reminded Marcel. “And one must work.” “One mus’ not be treat’ like a dog, m’sleu." Marcel ripped out a long French oath. “Jo’ann, you ’ave my consen* to keel dat ’Oula’an.” Suddenly the Swede dropped his shovel. “Ay bane by endt. Ja!” Johann was too slow In his mental processes to be shamed into patience. “Pick up that shovel and get to work," Mark commanded sharply. The Swede blinked stupidly for a moment, then slowly obeyed. “You our boss, hein?” Marcel sneered. “No, Marcel, since noon—your friend,” Mark responded. Marcel, too, stared and then, with a gesture of contrition, bent himself doggedly to his task. Mark thought he heard a chuckle. He looked up to meet the eyes of the tamer. As to the chuckle, he may have been mistaken; In the keen impersonal glance was no sign of recognition. Henley, with the labor boss, departed on his tour of inspection. Mark gave himself anew to his work, with a sudden inner expansion. Not Henley, but the submissiveness of his malcontent “friends,’’ was the cause of that expansion. _ Mark learned that there are a right method and a wrong of doing even the simple task of plying a shovel; that there is a fashion of handling even so common an animal as the day laborer which brings out his highest efficiency. He found, moreover, that he had the gift—granted as often to the false and the foolish as to the true and the wise—of popularity. Men liked him; they laughed st his jokes; on a day’s acquaintance they confided to him their troubles —squalid tragedies they were, alas! only too often. Marcel always called him “m’sieu,” a distinction he accorded not even to Blair, the labor boss. One chill foggy evening, as the whistle blew, he looked about him and realized that the excavation for the new mill was completed. “Why, we’re through!” he muttered. Johann stared stupidly. “Mebby dat Meeetair Blair *e geev us anudder job, you t’ink so, eh?** ventured Marcel hopefully. k "No. We’re the rottenest gang on the work. It’s Houlahan** fault. And I haven’t had my chance. D n him!** “D n!" The impending calamity was becoming clear to Johann. * “M’sleu ’as los’ *ees chance. Dat ver* bad. Jo’ann an* me, we *ave los’ a job,” Marcel sighed. But the fear was not justified. At the tool-shed ' they were ordered to report next morning a half hour earlier than usual And: “Truitt," said the time clerk, “the boss wants to see you.” Mark made his way to the rude shanty that was Blair’s office. “Truitt,” the latter demanded, “what’s the matter with Houlahan’s gang?" “Too much bullying," Mark answered directly. 1 thought so. Report tomorrow morning." - "Yea, sir. Of course.” **l*m going to put your gang on the

new coke oven bed*. It's a rush I give you three weeks for it" "Give me?” - * "Yes. I’m putting you in charge of the gang.” For an instant Mark stared foolishly. Then he grinned. “Would you mind saying that again?” Blair complied. "Look here,” he added boyishly, “I’m taking a chance on you, because you look and tails intelligent. Are you?” Mark admitted It "Then prove it I want to make at record on this job and so you’ve got to. Houlahan,” Blair added, "didn’t— . and he loses bis job. Bee?" Mark saw. . In the morning Houlahan reported,; happily, unaware of a new order of! things. “Houlahan,” Blair announced casually, "Truitt win take your gang to* day." * Houlahan glared malevolently at Mark. “And where’ll 01 go?” “You can take Truitt’s old place—or quit," said Blair curtly. "My God!" * ; There was no resistance. As ff dazed, the Irishman shouldered his pick and shovel and with the gang followed Mark to the new job. You have seen a sensitive hone become docile and eager when a master takes the reins. So it was with Houlahan’s, now Truitt’s, gang. They were, since they had survived the weeks of! bullying, no mean type; and they responded gratefully to the changed leadership. Where they had been sullen and resentful, they now became willing and promptly obedient. As the day advanced, the pace. Instead of slackening as under Houlahan’s command. grew faster; the last hour** record was the best of all Often Mark went home to his lodging by way of the mills. Then he began to epend his evenings studying them, sometimes In company with Blair, who when the day’s work was done sunk his rank in a frank liking for his new lieutenant At first Mark saw only a vast spectacular chaoe; a Brobdingnagian ferment of unordered and unrelated enginery and consuming fires. No guiding hand appeared, no purpose was felt Some awful mischance that must bring the whole fabric crashing to earth seemed always to impend. It was unbelievable that this creation had been brought forth from the mind and by the hand of man. Gradually to his accustomed eye the chaos resolved Itself into a system —rather, a marvelous system of systems that worked with a single purpose, each unit fitting precisely Into the ordered whole. "God! ” he exclaimed one night, overcome by the splendor of it all. He and Blair * were standing on the bridge over the blooming mill, watching the half-naked troop that with hook and tongs worked a two-ton ingot over the rolls. "What Is it? What’s happened?" Blair looked around for an accident to explain the ejaculation. "Nothing. I was just thinking how —how big it Is.” Mark laughed at the feebleness of his words. “What would you give to be down there?” There is such a thing as luck. A man—himself an artist who had not yet become exploiter—who had just come unnoticed on the bridge, heard, and with a half smile, saw the eager face. Blair shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, it’s big. But it's hard work. Good . pay, though." "I suppose so," Mark answered carelessly. “I wasn’t thinking of that" The man spoke. “Good evening, Blair." “Oh! Good evening, Mr. Henley." Blair struck a respectful attitude. "A bad night, sir.” Henley looked at Mark. "I don’t just place you.' Where have I seen you before?” Mark flushed at the recollection. “I took a letter I had for you and you caught me—” "So you’re Peeping Tom, eh? Did you get a job?" "Yes, sir. With a pick-and-shovel gang. I’m boss now." Henley seemed not unduly Impressed. "He’s the man that dug the new open beds,” Blair interposed generously. “He did it In two weeks and three days.” "Two weeks and two days,” Mark corrected eagerly. "So long?" Henley continued indifferent. "I had a spoiled gang. It took a week for me to shape 'em up.” .. "Humph! That's what we pay bosses for. We gave you credit for that job, Blair." “I took him out of the gang and put him on the job. But he did the work. He knows how to get work out of men." And that was high praise—the very highest,. Henley thought. He turned again to Mark. ■"Are you satisfied with your job?” “No,” Cried Mark. "I don’t want to be just a Hunky-driver. I want to learn how to. make steel” “It’s easier to learn how to make steel than te be a Hunky-driver," Henley said dryly. "However, I think wo can find you another job.” (TO BE CONTINUED.)

“Would You. Mind Saying That Again?"