Chapter 26

by Upton Sinclair

　　After the elections Jurgis stayed on in Packingtown and kept hisjob. The agitation to break up the police protection ofcriminals was continuing, and it seemed to him best to "lay low"for the present. He had nearly three hundred dollars in thebank, and might have considered himself entitled to a vacation;but he had an easy job, and force of habit kept him at it.Besides, Mike Scully, whom he consulted, advised him thatsomething might "turn up" before long.Jurgis got himself a place in a boardinghouse with some congenialfriends. He had already inquired of Aniele, and learned thatElzbieta and her family had gone downtown, and so he gave nofurther thought to them. He went with a new set, now, youngunmarried fellows who were "sporty." Jurgis had long ago cast offhis fertilizer clothing, and since going into politics he haddonned a linen collar and a greasy red necktie. He had somereason for thinking of his dress, for he was making about elevendollars a week, and two-thirds of it he might spend upon hispleasures without ever touching his savings.Sometimes he would ride down-town with a party of friends to thecheap theaters and the music halls and other haunts with whichthey were familiar. Many of the saloons in Packingtown had pooltables, and some of them bowling alleys, by means of which hecould spend his evenings in petty gambling. Also, there werecards and dice. One time Jurgis got into a game on a Saturdaynight and won prodigiously, and because he was a man of spirit hestayed in with the rest and the game continued until late Sundayafternoon, and by that time he was "out" over twenty dollars. OnSaturday nights, also, a number of balls were generally given inPackingtown; each man would bring his "girl" with him, payinghalf a dollar for a ticket, and several dollars additional fordrinks in the course of the festivities, which continued untilthree or four o'clock in the morning, unless broken up byfighting. During all this time the same man and woman woulddance together, half-stupefied with sensuality and drink.Before long Jurgis discovered what Scully had meant by something"turning up." In May the agreement between the packers and theunions expired, and a new agreement had to be signed.Negotiations were going on, and the yards were full of talk of astrike. The old scale had dealt with the wages of the skilledmen only; and of the members of the Meat Workers' Union abouttwo-thirds were unskilled men. In Chicago these latter werereceiving, for the most part, eighteen and a half cents an hour,and the unions wished to make this the general wage for the nextyear. It was not nearly so large a wage as it seemed--in thecourse of the negotiations the union officers examined timechecks to the amount of ten thousand dollars, and they found thatthe highest wages paid had been fourteen dollars a week, and thelowest two dollars and five cents, and the average of the whole,six dollars and sixty-five cents. And six dollars and sixty-fivecents was hardly too much for a man to keep a family on,considering the fact that the price of dressed meat had increasednearly fifty per cent in the last five years, while the price of"beef on the hoof" had decreased as much, it would have seemedthat the packers ought to be able to pay it; but the packers wereunwilling to pay it--they rejected the union demand, and to showwhat their purpose was, a week or two after the agreement expiredthey put down the wages of about a thousand men to sixteen and ahalf cents, and it was said that old man Jones had vowed he wouldput them to fifteen before he got through. There were a millionand a half of men in the country looking for work, a hundredthousand of them right in Chicago; and were the packers to letthe union stewards march into their places and bind them to acontract that would lose them several thousand dollars a day fora year? Not much!All this was in June; and before long the question was submittedto a referendum in the unions, and the decision was for a strike.It was the same in all the packing house cities; and suddenly thenewspapers and public woke up to face the gruesome spectacle of ameat famine. All sorts of pleas for a reconsideration were made,but the packers were obdurate; and all the while they werereducing wages, and heading off shipments of cattle, and rushingin wagonloads of mattresses and cots. So the men boiled over,and one night telegrams went out from the union headquarters toall the big packing centers--to St. Paul, South Omaha, SiouxCity, St. Joseph, Kansas City, East St. Louis, and NewYork--and the next day at noon between fifty and sixty thousandmen drew off their working clothes and marched out of thefactories, and the great "Beef Strike" was on.Jurgis went to his dinner, and afterward he walked over to seeMike Scully, who lived in a fine house, upon a street which hadbeen decently paved and lighted for his especial benefit. Scullyhad gone into semiretirement, and looked nervous and worried."What do you want?" he demanded, when he saw Jurgis."I came to see if maybe you could get me a place during thestrike," the other replied.And Scully knit his brows and eyed him narrowly. In thatmorning's papers Jurgis had read a fierce denunciation of thepackers by Scully, who had declared that if they did not treattheir people better the city authorities would end the matter bytearing down their plants. Now, therefore, Jurgis was not alittle taken aback when the other demanded suddenly, "See here,Rudkus, why don't you stick by your job?"Jurgis started. "Work as a scab?" he cried."Why not?" demanded Scully. "What's that to you?""But--but--" stammered Jurgis. He had somehow taken it forgranted that he should go out with his union. "The packers needgood men, and need them bad," continued the other, "and they'lltreat a man right that stands by them. Why don't you take yourchance and fix yourself?""But," said Jurgis, "how could I ever be of any use to you--inpolitics?""You couldn't be it anyhow," said Scully, abruptly."Why not?" asked Jurgis."Hell, man!" cried the other. "Don't you know you're aRepublican? And do you think I'm always going to electRepublicans? My brewer has found out already how we served him,and there is the deuce to pay."Jurgis looked dumfounded. He had never thought of that aspect ofit before. "I could be a Democrat," he said."Yes," responded the other, "but not right away; a man can'tchange his politics every day. And besides, I don't needyou--there'd be nothing for you to do. And it's a long time toelection day, anyhow; and what are you going to do meantime?""I thought I could count on you," began Jurgis."Yes," responded Scully, "so you could--I never yet went back ona friend. But is it fair to leave the job I got you and come tome for another? I have had a hundred fellows after me today,and what can I do? I've put seventeen men on the city payroll toclean streets this one week, and do you think I can keep that upforever? It wouldn't do for me to tell other men what I tellyou, but you've been on the inside, and you ought to have senseenough to see for yourself. What have you to gain by a strike?""I hadn't thought," said Jurgis."Exactly," said Scully, "but you'd better. Take my word for it,the strike will be over in a few days, and the men will bebeaten; and meantime what you can get out of it will belong toyou. Do you see?"And Jurgis saw. He went back to the yards, and into theworkroom. The men had left a long line of hogs in various stagesof preparation, and the foreman was directing the feeble effortsof a score or two of clerks and stenographers and office boys tofinish up the job and get them into the chilling rooms. Jurgiswent straight up to him and announced, "I have come back to work,Mr. Murphy."The boss's face lighted up. "Good man!" he cried. "Come ahead!""Just a moment," said Jurgis, checking his enthusiasm. "I thinkI ought to get a little more wages.""Yes," replied the other, "of course. What do you want?" Jurgis had debated on the way. His nerve almost failed him now,but he clenched his hands. "I think I ought to have' threedollars a day," he said."All right," said the other, promptly; and before the day was outour friend discovered that the clerks and stenographers andoffice boys were getting five dollars a day, and then he couldhave kicked himself! So Jurgis became one of the new "American heroes," a man whosevirtues merited comparison with those of the martyrs of Lexingtonand Valley Forge. The resemblance was not complete, of course,for Jurgis was generously paid and comfortably clad, and wasprovided with a spring cot and a mattress and three substantialmeals a day; also he was perfectly at ease, and safe from allperil of life and limb, save only in the case that a desire forbeer should lead him to venture outside of the stockyards gates.And even in the exercise of this privilege he was not leftunprotected; a good part of the inadequate police force ofChicago was suddenly diverted from its work of hunting criminals,and rushed out to serve him. The police, and the strikers also,were determined that there should be no violence; but there wasanother party interested which was minded to the contrary--andthat was the press. On the first day of his life as astrikebreaker Jurgis quit work early, and in a spirit of bravadohe challenged three men of his acquaintance to go outside and geta drink. They accepted, and went through the big Halsted Streetgate, where several policemen were watching, and also some unionpickets, scanning sharply those who passed in and out. Jurgisand his companions went south on Halsted Street; past the hotel,and then suddenly half a dozen men started across the streettoward them and proceeded to argue with them concerning the errorof their ways. As the arguments were not taken in the properspirit, they went on to threats; and suddenly one of them jerkedoff the hat of one of the four and flung it over the fence. Theman started after it, and then, as a cry of "Scab!" was raisedand a dozen people came running out of saloons and doorways,a second man's heart failed him and he followed. Jurgis and thefourth stayed long enough to give themselves the satisfaction ofa quick exchange of blows, and then they, too, took to theirheels and fled back of the hotel and into the yards again.Meantime, of course, policemen were coming on a run, and as acrowd gathered other police got excited and sent in a riot call.Jurgis knew nothing of this, but went back to "Packers' Avenue,"and in front of the "Central Time Station" he saw one of hiscompanions, breathless and wild with excitement, narrating to anever growing throng how the four had been attacked and surroundedby a howling mob, and had been nearly torn to pieces. While hestood listening, smiling cynically, several dapper young menstood by with notebooks in their hands, and it was not more thantwo hours later that Jurgis saw newsboys running about witharmfuls of newspapers, printed in red and black letters sixinches high:VIOLENCE IN THE YARDS! STRIKEBREAKERS SURROUNDED BY FRENZIED MOB!If he had been able to buy all of the newspapers of the UnitedStates the next morning, he might have discovered that hisbeer-hunting exploit was being perused by some two score millionsof people, and had served as a text for editorials in half thestaid and solemn businessmen's newspapers in the land.Jurgis was to see more of this as time passed. For the present,his work being over, he was free to ride into the city, by arailroad direct from the yards, or else to spend the night in aroom where cots had been laid in rows. He chose the latter,but to his regret, for all night long gangs of strikebreakers keptarriving. As very few of the better class of workingmen could begot for such work, these specimens of the new American herocontained an assortment of the criminals and thugs of the city,besides Negroes and the lowest foreigners-Greeks, Roumanians,Sicilians, and Slovaks. They had been attracted more by theprospect of disorder than, by the big wages; and they made thenight hideous with singing and carousing, and only went to sleepwhen the time came for them to get up to work.In the morning before Jurgis had finished his breakfast, "Pat"Murphy ordered him to one of the superintendents, who questionedhim as to his experience in the work of the killing room. Hisheart began to thump with excitement, for he divined instantlythat his hour had come--that he was to be a boss!Some of the foremen were union members, and many who were not hadgone out with the men. It was in the killing department that thepackers had been left most in the lurch, and precisely here thatthey could least afford it; the smoking and canning and saltingof meat might wait, and all the by-products might be wasted--butfresh meats must be had, or the restaurants and hotels andbrownstone houses would feel the pinch, and then "public opinion"would take a startling turn.An opportunity such as this would not come twice to a man; andJurgis seized it. Yes, he knew the work, the whole of it, and hecould teach it to others. But if he took the job and gavesatisfaction he would expect to keep it--they would not turn himoff at the end of the strike? To which the superintendentreplied that he might safely trust Durham's for that--theyproposed to teach these unions a lesson, and most of all thoseforemen who had gone back on them. Jurgis would receive fivedollars a day during the strike, and twenty-five a week after itwas settled.So our friend got a pair of "slaughter pen" boots and "jeans,"and flung himself at his task. It was a weird sight, there onthe killing beds--a throng of stupid black Negroes, andforeigners who could not understand a word that was said to them,mixed with pale-faced, hollow-chested bookkeepers and clerks,half-fainting for the tropical heat and the sickening stench offresh blood--and all struggling to dress a dozen or two cattle inthe same place where, twenty-four hours ago, the old killing ganghad been speeding, with their marvelous precision, turning outfour hundred carcasses every hour!The Negroes and the "toughs" from the Levee did not want to work,and every few minutes some of them would feel obliged to retireand recuperate. In a couple of days Durham and Company hadelectric fans up to cool off the rooms for them, and even couchesfor them to rest on; and meantime they could go out and find ashady corner and take a "snooze," and as there was no place forany one in particular, and no system, it might be hours beforetheir boss discovered them. As for the poor office employees,they did their best, moved to it by terror; thirty of them hadbeen "fired" in a bunch that first morning for refusing to serve,besides a number of women clerks and typewriters who had declinedto act as waitresses.It was such a force as this that Jurgis had to organize. He didhis best, flying here and there, placing them in rows and showingthem the tricks; he had never given an order in his life before,but he had taken enough of them to know, and he soon fell intothe spirit of it, and roared and stormed like any old stager.He had not the most tractable pupils, however. "See hyar, boss,"a big black "buck" would begin, "ef you doan' like de way Ah doesdis job, you kin get somebody else to do it." Then a crowd wouldgather and listen, muttering threats. After the first mealnearly all the steel knives had been missing, and now every Negrohad one, ground to a fine point, hidden in his boots.There was no bringing order out of such a chaos, Jurgis soondiscovered; and he fell in with the spirit of the thing--therewas no reason why he should wear himself out with shouting. Ifhides and guts were slashed and rendered useless there was no wayof tracing it to any one; and if a man lay off and forgot to comeback there was nothing to be gained by seeking him, for all therest would quit in the meantime. Everything went, during thestrike, and the packers paid. Before long Jurgis found that thecustom of resting had suggested to some alert minds thepossibility of registering at more than one place and earningmore than one five dollars a day. When he caught a man at thishe "fired" him, but it chanced to be in a quiet corner, and theman tendered him a ten-dollar bill and a wink, and he took them.Of course, before long this custom spread, and Jurgis was soonmaking quite a good income from it.In the face of handicaps such as these the packers countedthemselves lucky if they could kill off the cattle that had beencrippled in transit and the hogs that had developed disease.Frequently, in the course of a two or three days' trip, in hotweather and without water, some hog would develop cholera, anddie; and the rest would attack him before he had ceased kicking,and when the car was opened there would be nothing of him leftbut the bones. If all the hogs in this carload were not killedat once, they would soon be down with the dread disease, andthere would be nothing to do but make them into lard. It was thesame with cattle that were gored and dying, or were limping withbroken bones stuck through their flesh--they must be killed, evenif brokers and buyers and superintendents had to take off theircoats and help drive and cut and skin them. And meantime, agentsof the packers were gathering gangs of Negroes in the countrydistricts of the far South, promising them five dollars a day andboard, and being careful not to mention there was a strike;already carloads of them were on the way, with special rates fromthe railroads, and all traffic ordered out of the way. Manytowns and cities were taking advantage of the chance to clear outtheir jails and workhouses--in Detroit the magistrates wouldrelease every man who agreed to leave town within twenty-fourhours, and agents of the packers were in the courtrooms to shipthem right. And meantime trainloads of supplies were coming infor their accommodation, including beer and whisky, so that theymight not be tempted to go outside. They hired thirty younggirls in Cincinnati to "pack fruit," and when they arrived putthem at work canning corned beef, and put cots for them to sleepin a public hallway, through which the men passed. As the gangscame in day and night, under the escort of squads of police,they stowed away in unused workrooms and storerooms, and in the carsheds, crowded so closely together that the cots touched. Insome places they would use the same room for eating and sleeping,and at night the men would put their cots upon the tables, tokeep away from the swarms of rats.But with all their best efforts, the packers were demoralized.Ninety per cent of the men had walked out; and they faced thetask of completely remaking their labor force--and with the priceof meat up thirty per cent, and the public clamoring for asettlement. They made an offer to submit the whole question atissue to arbitration; and at the end of ten days the unionsaccepted it, and the strike was called off. It was agreed thatall the men were to be re-employed within forty-five days, andthat there was to be "no discrimination against union men."This was an anxious time for Jurgis. If the men were taken back"without discrimination," he would lose his present place. Hesought out the superintendent, who smiled grimly and bade him"wait and see." Durham's strikebreakers were few of them leaving.Whether or not the "settlement" was simply a trick of the packersto gain time, or whether they really expected to break the strikeand cripple the unions by the plan, cannot be said; but thatnight there went out from the office of Durham and Company atelegram to all the big packing centers, "Employ no unionleaders." And in the morning, when the twenty thousand menthronged into the yards, with their dinner pails and workingclothes, Jurgis stood near the door of the hog-trimming room,where he had worked before the strike, and saw a throng of eagermen, with a score or two of policemen watching them; and he saw asuperintendent come out and walk down the line, and pick out manafter man that pleased him; and one after another came, and therewere some men up near the head of the line who were neverpicked--they being the union stewards and delegates, and the menJurgis had heard making speeches at the meetings. Each time, ofcourse, there were louder murmurings and angrier looks. Overwhere the cattle butchers were waiting, Jurgis heard shouts andsaw a crowd, and he hurried there. One big butcher, who waspresident of the Packing Trades Council, had been passed overfive times, and the men were wild with rage; they had appointed acommittee of three to go in and see the superintendent, and thecommittee had made three attempts, and each time the police hadclubbed them back from the door. Then there were yells andhoots, continuing until at last the superintendent came to thedoor. "We all go back or none of us do!" cried a hundred voices.And the other shook his fist at them, and shouted, "You went outof here like cattle, and like cattle you'll come back!"Then suddenly the big butcher president leaped upon a pile ofstones and yelled: "It's off, boys. We'll all of us quit again!"And so the cattle butchers declared a new strike on the spot;and gathering their members from the other plants, where the sametrick had been played, they marched down Packers' Avenue, whichwas thronged with a dense mass of workers, cheering wildly. Menwho had already got to work on the killing beds dropped theirtools and joined them; some galloped here and there on horseback,shouting the tidings, and within half an hour the whole ofPackingtown was on strike again, and beside itself with fury.There was quite a different tone in Packingtown after this--theplace was a seething caldron of passion, and the "scab" whoventured into it fared badly. There were one or two of theseincidents each day, the newspapers detailing them, and alwaysblaming them upon the unions. Yet ten years before, when therewere no unions in Packingtown, there was a strike, and nationaltroops had to be called, and there were pitched battles fought atnight, by the light of blazing freight trains. Packingtown wasalways a center of violence; in "Whisky Point," where there werea hundred saloons and one glue factory, there was alwaysfighting, and always more of it in hot weather. Any one who hadtaken the trouble to consult the station house blotter would havefound that there was less violence that summer than everbefore--and this while twenty thousand men were out of work,and with nothing to do all day but brood upon bitter wrongs.There was no one to picture the battle the union leaders werefighting--to hold this huge army in rank, to keep it fromstraggling and pillaging, to cheer and encourage and guide ahundred thousand people, of a dozen different tongues, throughsix long weeks of hunger and disappointment and despair.Meantime the packers had set themselves definitely to the task ofmaking a new labor force. A thousand or two of strikebreakerswere brought in every night, and distributed among the variousplants. Some of them were experienced workers,--butchers,salesmen, and managers from the packers' branch stores, and a fewunion men who had deserted from other cities; but the vastmajority were "green" Negroes from the cotton districts of thefar South, and they were herded into the packing plants likesheep. There was a law forbidding the use of buildings aslodginghouses unless they were licensed for the purpose,and provided with proper windows, stairways, and fire escapes;but here, in a "paint room," reached only by an enclosed "chute,"a room without a single window and only one door, a hundred menwere crowded upon mattresses on the floor. Up on the third storyof the "hog house" of Jones's was a storeroom, without a window,into which they crowded seven hundred men, sleeping upon the baresprings of cots, and with a second shift to use them by day. Andwhen the clamor of the public led to an investigation into theseconditions, and the mayor of the city was forced to order theenforcement of the law, the packers got a judge to issue aninjunction forbidding him to do it!Just at this time the mayor was boasting that he had put an endto gambling and prize fighting in the city; but here a swarm ofprofessional gamblers had leagued themselves with the police tofleece the strikebreakers; and any night, in the big open spacein front of Brown's, one might see brawny Negroes stripped to thewaist and pounding each other for money, while a howling throngof three or four thousand surged about, men and women, youngwhite girls from the country rubbing elbows with big buck Negroeswith daggers in their boots, while rows of woolly heads peereddown from every window of the surrounding factories. Theancestors of these black people had been savages in Africa; andsince then they had been chattel slaves, or had been held down bya community ruled by the traditions of slavery. Now for thefirst time they were free--free to gratify every passion, free towreck themselves. They were wanted to break a strike, and whenit was broken they would be shipped away, and their presentmasters would never see them again; and so whisky and women werebrought in by the carload and sold to them, and hell was letloose in the yards. Every night there were stabbings andshootings; it was said that the packers had blank permits, whichenabled them to ship dead bodies from the city without troublingthe authorities. They lodged men and women on the same floor;and with the night there began a saturnalia of debauchery--scenessuch as never before had been witnessed in America. And as thewomen were the dregs from the brothels of Chicago, and the menwere for the most part ignorant country Negroes, the namelessdiseases of vice were soon rife; and this where food was beinghandled which was sent out to every corner of the civilizedworld.The "Union Stockyards" were never a pleasant place; but now theywere not only a collection of slaughterhouses, but also thecamping place of an army of fifteen or twenty thousand humanbeasts. All day long the blazing midsummer sun beat down uponthat square mile of abominations: upon tens of thousands ofcattle crowded into pens whose wooden floors stank and steamedcontagion; upon bare, blistering, cinder-strewn railroad tracks,and huge blocks of dingy meat factories, whose labyrinthinepassages defied a breath of fresh air to penetrate them; andthere were not merely rivers of hot blood, and car-loads of moistflesh, and rendering vats and soap caldrons, glue factories andfertilizer tanks, that smelt like the craters of hell--there werealso tons of garbage festering in the sun, and the greasy laundryof the workers hung out to dry, and dining rooms littered withfood and black with flies, and toilet rooms that were open sewers.And then at night, when this throng poured out into the streetsto play--fighting, gambling, drinking and carousing, cursing andscreaming, laughing and singing, playing banjoes and dancing!They were worked in the yards all the seven days of the week, andthey had their prize fights and crap games on Sunday nights aswell; but then around the corner one might see a bonfire blazing,and an old, gray-headed Negress, lean and witchlike, her hairflying wild and her eyes blazing, yelling and chanting of thefires of perdition and the blood of the "Lamb," while men andwomen lay down upon the ground and moaned and screamed inconvulsions of terror and remorse.Such were the stockyards during the strike; while the unionswatched in sullen despair, and the country clamored like a greedychild for its food, and the packers went grimly on their way.Each day they added new workers, and could be more stern with theold ones--could put them on piecework, and dismiss them if theydid not keep up the pace. Jurgis was now one of their agents inthis process; and he could feel the change day by day, like theslow starting up of a huge machine. He had gotten used to beinga master of men; and because of the stifling heat and the stench,and the fact that he was a "scab" and knew it and despisedhimself. He was drinking, and developing a villainous temper,and he stormed and cursed and raged at his men, and drove themuntil they were ready to drop with exhaustion.Then one day late in August, a superintendent ran into the placeand shouted to Jurgis and his gang to drop their work and come.They followed him outside, to where, in the midst of a densethrong, they saw several two-horse trucks waiting, and threepatrol-wagon loads of police. Jurgis and his men sprang upon oneof the trucks, and the driver yelled to the crowd, and they wentthundering away at a gallop. Some steers had just escaped fromthe yards, and the strikers had got hold of them, and there wouldbe the chance of a scrap!They went out at the Ashland Avenue gate, and over in thedirection of the "dump." There was a yell as soon as they weresighted, men and women rushing out of houses and saloons as theygalloped by. There were eight or ten policemen on the truck,however, and there was no disturbance until they came to a placewhere the street was blocked with a dense throng. Those on theflying truck yelled a warning and the crowd scattered pell-mell,disclosing one of the steers lying in its blood. There were agood many cattle butchers about just then, with nothing much todo, and hungry children at home; and so some one had knocked outthe steer--and as a first-class man can kill and dress one in acouple of minutes, there were a good many steaks and roastsalready missing. This called for punishment, of course; and thepolice proceeded to administer it by leaping from the truck andcracking at every head they saw. There were yells of rage andpain, and the terrified people fled into houses and stores,or scattered helter-skelter down the street. Jurgis and his gangjoined in the sport, every man singling out his victim, andstriving to bring him to bay and punch him. If he fled into ahouse his pursuer would smash in the flimsy door and follow himup the stairs, hitting every one who came within reach, andfinally dragging his squealing quarry from under a bed or a pileof old clothes in a closet.Jurgis and two policemen chased some men into a bar-room. One ofthem took shelter behind the bar, where a policeman cornered himand proceeded to whack him over the back and shoulders, until helay down and gave a chance at his head. The others leaped afence in the rear, balking the second policeman, who was fat;and as he came back, furious and cursing, a big Polish woman,the owner of the saloon, rushed in screaming, and received a poke inthe stomach that doubled her up on the floor. Meantime Jurgis,who was of a practical temper, was helping himself at the bar;and the first policeman, who had laid out his man, joined him,handing out several more bottles, and filling his pocketsbesides, and then, as he started to leave, cleaning off all thebalance with a sweep of his club. The din of the glass crashingto the floor brought the fat Polish woman to her feet again,but another policeman came up behind her and put his knee intoher back and his hands over her eyes--and then called to hiscompanion, who went back and broke open the cash drawer andfilled his pockets with the contents. Then the three wentoutside, and the man who was holding the woman gave her a shoveand dashed out himself. The gang having already got the carcasson to the truck, the party set out at a trot, followed by screamsand curses, and a shower of bricks and stones from unseenenemies. These bricks and stones would figure in the accounts ofthe "riot" which would be sent out to a few thousand newspaperswithin an hour or two; but the episode of the cash drawer wouldnever be mentioned again, save only in the heartbreaking legendsof Packingtown.It was late in the afternoon when they got back, and they dressedout the remainder of the steer, and a couple of others that hadbeen killed, and then knocked off for the day. Jurgis wentdowntown to supper, with three friends who had been on the othertrucks, and they exchanged reminiscences on the way. Afterwardthey drifted into a roulette parlor, and Jurgis, who was neverlucky at gambling, dropped about fifteen dollars. To consolehimself he had to drink a good deal, and he went back toPackingtown about two o'clock in the morning, very much the worsefor his excursion, and, it must be confessed, entirely deservingthe calamity that was in store for him.As he was going to the place where he slept, he met a painted-cheeked woman in a greasy "kimono," and she put her arm about hiswaist to steady him; they turned into a dark room they werepassing--but scarcely had they taken two steps before suddenly adoor swung open, and a man entered, carrying a lantern. "Who'sthere?" he called sharply. And Jurgis started to mutter somereply; but at the same instant the man raised his light, whichflashed in his face, so that it was possible to recognize him.Jurgis stood stricken dumb, and his heart gave a leap like a madthing. The man was Connor!Connor, the boss of the loading gang! The man who had seducedhis wife--who had sent him to prison, and wrecked his home,ruined his life! He stood there, staring, with the light shiningfull upon him.Jurgis had often thought of Connor since coming back toPackingtown, but it had been as of something far off, that nolonger concerned him. Now, however, when he saw him, alive andin the flesh, the same thing happened to him that had happenedbefore--a flood of rage boiled up in him, a blind frenzy seizedhim. And he flung himself at the man, and smote him between theeyes--and then, as he fell, seized him by the throat and began topound his head upon the stones.The woman began screaming, and people came rushing in. Thelantern had been upset and extinguished, and it was so dark theycould not see a thing; but they could hear Jurgis panting, andhear the thumping of his victim's skull, and they rushed thereand tried to pull him off. Precisely as before, Jurgis came awaywith a piece of his enemy's flesh between his teeth; and,as before, he went on fighting with those who had interfered withhim, until a policeman had come and beaten him intoinsensibility.And so Jurgis spent the balance of the night in the stockyardsstation house. This time, however, he had money in his pocket,and when he came to his senses he could get something to drink,and also a messenger to take word of his plight to "Bush" Harper.Harper did not appear, however, until after the prisoner, feelingvery weak and ill, had been hailed into court and remanded atfive hundred dollars' bail to await the result of his victim'sinjuries. Jurgis was wild about this, because a differentmagistrate had chanced to be on the bench, and he had stated thathe had never been arrested before, and also that he had beenattacked first--and if only someone had been there to speak agood word for him, he could have been let off at once.But Harper explained that he had been downtown, and had not gotthe message. "What's happened to you?" he asked."I've been doing a fellow up," said Jurgis, "and I've got to getfive hundred dollars' bail.""I can arrange that all right," said the other--"though it maycost you a few dollars, of course. But what was the trouble?""It was a man that did me a mean trick once," answered Jurgis."Who is he?""He's a foreman in Brown's or used to be. His name's Connor."And the other gave a start. "Connor!" he cried. "Not PhilConnor!""Yes," said Jurgis, "that's the fellow. Why?""Good God!" exclaimed the other, ''then you're in for it, oldman! I can't help you!""Not help me! Why not?""Why, he's one of Scully's biggest men--he's a member of theWar-Whoop League, and they talked of sending him to thelegislature! Phil Connor! Great heavens!"Jurgis sat dumb with dismay."Why, he can send you to Joliet, if he wants to!" declared theother."Can't I have Scully get me off before he finds out about it?"asked Jurgis, at length."But Scully's out of town," the other answered. "I don't evenknow where he is--he's run away to dodge the strike."That was a pretty mess, indeed. Poor Jurgis sat half-dazed. Hispull had run up against a bigger pull, and he was down and out!"But what am I going to do?'' he asked, weakly."How should I know?" said the other. "I shouldn't even dare toget bail for you--why, I might ruin myself for life!"Again there was silence. "Can't you do it for me," Jurgis asked,"and pretend that you didn't know who I'd hit?""But what good would that do you when you came to stand trial?"asked Harper. Then he sat buried in thought for a minute or two."There's nothing--unless it's this," he said. "I could have yourbail reduced; and then if you had the money you could pay it andskip.""How much will it be?" Jurgis asked, after he had had thisexplained more in detail."I don't know," said the other. "How much do you own?""I've got about three hundred dollars," was the answer."Well," was Harper's reply, "I'm not sure, but I'll try and getyou off for that. I'll take the risk for friendship's sake--forI'd hate to see you sent to state's prison for a year or two."And so finally Jurgis ripped out his bankbook--which was sewed upin his trousers--and signed an order, which "Bush" Harper wrote,for all the money to be paid out. Then the latter went and gotit, and hurried to the court, and explained to the magistratethat Jurgis was a decent fellow and a friend of Scully's, who hadbeen attacked by a strike-breaker. So the bail was reduced tothree hundred dollars, and Harper went on it himself; he did nottell this to Jurgis, however--nor did he tell him that when thetime for trial came it would be an easy matter for him to avoidthe forfeiting of the bail, and pocket the three hundred dollarsas his reward for the risk of offending Mike Scully! All that hetold Jurgis was that he was now free, and that the best thing hecould do was to clear out as quickly as possible; and so Jurgisoverwhelmed with gratitude and relief, took the dollar andfourteen cents that was left him out of all his bank account,and put it with the two dollars and quarter that was left from hislast night's celebration, and boarded a streetcar and got off atthe other end of Chicago.