The Marion daily mirror. (Marion, Ohio) 1892-1912, 1911-10-28

9R&Nbll tNilh two feet long. The end
net%NYkNB had been split with a knife
HyS$3S/>YNsH so as to be lighted easily.
essz-=zey essssszss-z==zzssAs=ey % "Dats de way We get
i'm explained Holtz-
man, exhibiting a stick twice as large
as tallow candle and wrapped in oiled
paper buff in color Dynamite iss a hard
hitter, he went on, breaking the stick in
his hands after an apparently most reckless
fashion, revealing the composition within,
soapy Substance the hue OF light brown
sugar. III Az
+, The molders' and machinists' strike was
enow four months open sore. John Mar
tins muscular frame had long been stripped
of its last superfluous ounce. His lean face
Ewas clear and his cheeks had lost their
furnace tan. True, there were shady spots
under his lower lids, but that was from
worry, and there was a red light in his dark
eyes at times, but that was from the beast
glare that came into them more and more
as the battle went against him.
.loltznian, short of stature, with a scrub
of beard upon his face, his blood-shot eyes
Nlazing, his whole body quivering with
ai.iHation, crowded further into the shadow
OF the lumber pile behind which they were
standing, and leaned forward, a piece Of
the broken stick OF dynamite in either hand,
as he peercd straight into the face OF his
companion.
z But Martins features were, as usual, in
scrutable. Three months before, after
thirty years OF scabbing, he walked into the
strike, a big, calm, seli-controlled fellow
with kindly, amiable features. Sorrow,
hunger, bereavement, hardship, anxiety,
and the hand-to-throat struggle had their
way with him in those ninety days He had
become lion of man. He held no office,
nor would Yet he had come to be the
greatest single personal force among them.
He could quiet the mob with a word. He
Gould rouse It with a look. He was asFpod
as the word of Polonius in that hetlent
every man his ear and few indeed his tongue
in facne speech Slow OF word, he was swift
and mighty in deed Not a brilliant
thinker, yet he reasoned himself solidly to
conclusions which once gained, he stood
upon with all the solidty of his own splen-
did physical constitution.
And now he was backed up behind the
5umber pile, listening while Hoffman,
called often enough and inaccurately "the
Dutchman, was expounding the Gospel Of
Dynamite.
"Blow 'em to hell up, is vat I say" he
muttered again, in a hoarse whisper, with
a violent upward gesture OF the arms and a
furtive glance around as he spoke.
Martin reached out and took one of the
broken pieces OF dynamite and hefted it in
his hand thoughtfully.
Hoffman went on:
Every day dey bring in more scabs on
US Vot's de matter il de strike is not lost,
hey, if We don't do somedings3"
Martin was shifting at the open end of the
stick now, and gazing abstractedly down
the curve OF his nose.
"A couple dozen sticks like dat would
make de Rockport shop look like junk
pile, vat1"
4, The dynamite crumbled to fragments
with a nervous contraction of the strong
mans fingers.
Holtzmanr" Martin exclaimed, "you
are foolW
"a fool, vat" exclaimed the surprised
German.
"Yes, fool Property is sacred with me,
Hoffman, as sacred as life, because it's the
product of life and the means of life. Our
uRul WIFI DIlCkS uOI WlCGlS. II
with men. The bosses need them factories
to make their money with. We need EN-
to make our money with. That's all there
is to that. When a man hits scab on the
head, can understand it, because I've
done the same But when he takes to
THROWN dynami& around, he's blowin' up
his own works. What's the use to be
doddering idiot, Hoffman. Property's
sacred. It's got to be, or there's nothing
to civilization at all, and you and me are
Just wolves in the pack"
81 am wolf, broke in Hoffman, show
ing all his teeth and glaring red gums that
were almost lupine in their hideousness. "I
would destroy dat vich is destroying me.
Dey will not arbitrate, desc bosses. Ven
dey kick us in de faces nit DER heel, vat
We dor Dis" and he waved the other bit
OF dynamite in his hand.
ave make big trouble for de bosses nit it.
We take down a vail We blow up furnace
maybe We shake up de board house we're
de scabs eat and sleep. We shoot off stick
in de boss's garden. 1t makes de women cry.
Dey run init der arms aroundt de bosses
neck. Dey say, please you stop dis horrid
strike and let dem mems go back to work.
so dey don't do desc crazy tings any more.'"
Are you fghtin' womenS" asked Martin,
sententiously.
"Py golly, der bosses are!-And chill
drens too"
Martins chest rose and fell with sigh.
He thought Of his own dismantled home, of
his family scattered, Of Little Wiggler, his