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Updated: June 28, 2025
And now they have taken the life of one of your truest and most loyal union leaders. Where will they stop? If you do not stand like men against these cruel outrages what have you to hope for? You know as well as I that no workman in Millsburgh would raise his hand against such a fellow worker as Captain Charlie Martin."
It would have been hard to find in all Millsburgh, not excepting the most wretched home in the Flats, a more unhappy and discontented person than this young woman who was so unanimously held to have everything in the world that any one could possibly desire. Slowly she turned to climb the zigzag stairway to the Interpreter's hut.
To accomplish the full purpose of his demonstration against the employer class, the strike leader must make it appear to the public as the united action of the working people of Millsburgh. The requirements of his profession made Jake Vodell a master of mob psychology.
If the working class wins this time there will be no end to their demands. We might as well turn all our properties over to them at once and be done with it. This strike in Millsburgh is only a small part of the general industrial situation. The entire business interests of the country are involved." Again she waited a little before answering. Then she said, sadly, "How strange!
Solemnly the Interpreter continued, "The one who took the life of your comrade workman, Captain Charlie, was not a tool in the hands of your employers as you have been led to believe. Neither was that dreadful act inspired by the workmen of Millsburgh.
And you shall see what will happen to this castle of Adam Ward's and to this Mill that he says is his." "I think I should tell you, sir," said the Interpreter, calmly, "that in your Millsburgh campaign, at least, you are already defeated." "Defeated! Hah! That is good! And who do you say has defeated me, before I have commenced even to fight, heh?"
There are yet enough sane and loyal American citizens in Millsburgh to extinguish the fire that you and Jake Vodell have started." When Jake Vodell came to the Interpreter's hut shortly after McIver had left, he was clearly in a state of nervous excitement. "Well," he said, shortly, "I am here what do you want why did you send for me?"
In the window of the Interpreter's hut on the cliff a lamp gleamed starlike above the darkness below. Everywhere in Millsburgh the shooting of Captain Charlie was the one topic of conversation. As the patrons of the cigar stand came and went they talked with the philosopher of nothing else.
There was something in the Interpreter's manner something in the weary, drooping figure in that wheel chair in the tired, deep-lined face in the pain-filled eyes and the gentle voice that went to the deeps of Helen Ward's woman heart. With her, as with every one in Millsburgh, the strike was a topic of daily conversation. She sympathized with her brother in his anxiety.
The agitator rose heavily to his feet. "It is your friendship with this John Ward that makes you turn from your own class. I have known how it would be with you. But it is no matter. You shall see. We will make a demonstration in Millsburgh that will win the men of your union in spite of you and your crippled old basket maker.
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