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Updated: May 6, 2025
Hamby is to lure Carpenter out to the street, and when the gang grabs him, Hamby will fire a shot, and there will be three or four secret agents in the crowd, who will incite the others, and see to it that Carpenter is lynched instead of being tarred and feathered!" So there was the layout; and now, what was to be done?
Also there was Hamby, the pacifist whom I did not like, and a second I. W. W., brought by Colver a lad named Philip, who had recently been indicted by the grand jury, and was at this moment a fugitive from justice with a price upon his head.
We had agreed that Joe was to give Lynch a whispered explanation of the situation, while I kept Hamby busy. "Where is Mr. Carpenter?" I asked. "He's in the private office, praying." "Well," said I, "there's a sick woman who needs help very badly. I wonder if we'd better disturb him." "I don't know," said Hamby. "I've been here an hour, and haven't heard a sound. Maybe he's asleep."
They were deeply distressed, and each tried in turn "Comrade," or "Brother," or "Fellow-worker," or whatever term they used "is it I?" Presently the sturdy looking fellow named Hamby, who called himself a pacifist, asked, "Is it I?" And Carpenter answered, quietly, "You have said it."
For, during the day on the stage had he not once summoned the courage for a stammering remark to her, and had she not replied pleasantly? "Never travelled with a nicer lady." Whereupon Joe Hamby regarded him enviously. And old man Adams, with a sly look out of his senile old eyes, jerked his thin old body across the floor, dragging a chair after him, and sat down to entertain the lady.
Some of the company laughed, but others of them had tears in their eyes; and I noticed that in the midst of the merriment the fellow Hamby got up and slipped out of the room. Not long after that the company began to disperse for various reasons. Karlin explained that his old horse had been working all day, and had had no supper.
I didn't enjoy telling him a lie; in fact, I had an idea that one couldn't lie to him successfully. But I tried it. "Mr. Carpenter, Hamby left a message; he had to go downstairs, and said he wanted to see you. Would you come down and meet him?" "Ah, yes!" said Carpenter. And he walked to the door and down the stairs without another word.
The street was apparently deserted, and we did not stop to look for any "operatives," but left our machine and stole quietly upstairs and into the room. Comrade Abell sat at the table, with his head bowed in his arms, sound asleep. Lynch, the ex-soldier, and Tom Moneta, the Mexican, were lying on the floor snoring. And on a chair near the doorway, watching the scene, sat Hamby, wide awake.
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