Middletown transcript., 1911-02-04
Y The Fl hts ~
By AGNES LOUISE PRATT
. lts
bY AGNES LOUISE PRATT

!.
The Sun was terrible, on
there ID the road. Here, undel
the trees, It was shady and com
paratively cool. Manuel shred
ded D haky segment from the
loaf he was eating and, while hs
chewed industriously, looked
around.
Some Of his companions nodd
ed in the heat thai would shin
mer up from the babing earth
and glimmer waveringly even
here under the trees. Some
lolIed on the parched grass, pipes
in mouth, and little blue pillars
Of smoke commingled with the
heat, the strong scent Of burning
tobacco reaching his nostri's
pungently.
At q little distance, a broad.
shouldered Irishman harangned
q group of interested listeners.
Manuel rolled the remnant of his
bread into q soft ball, CROWDED it
into his mouth and. chewing
meditatively, Joined them. Some
words he had caught while he
was eating lad drawn him
thither.
Are you satistiedP
No, he was not. he knew
enough of English to interpret
for himself the brief phrase, and
the answer welled up vehemeHtly
from his sullen heart. No, a
thousand times, no. Presently
be lit . cigarette and pulled away
gloomiIy while the insistent voice
Of the speaker cut the ascending
heat waves incisively.
Did any of you git what you
come forY / didn't. Great stories
II was we heard in the old count
~ bout the money that was
layin' round idle for them that
was wantin' it. | come from Ire.
land. Twas just the same in.
Italy. You Eyetalians-Ill bet
you thought you was comm 10 a
lucky country, where there
wasn't any earthquakes an where
everything was gooa an plenty.
4 dissatisfied grunt grudged
acquiescence.
An you Portagees, you didn't
think, Ill bet, that you'd be
swingin' the pick ten hoursa a day
six days a week, for q dollar'n
half. He glanced half contem-
ptuously at the piles of paving
blocks, sleepers, and railroad
iron that lined the roadway
symmetrically. Tain't so aisy
to live here as there: Things is
higher an it costs more all round
It takes all we kin git to kape our
feet on the earth. The throubIe
is
He paused impressively and
the little group narrowed. The
throuble is, all the moneys in
the hands of a few. An what
they've got they amt a goin' to
give up to wan Of US. What do |
they care about us, anyway? We |
kin sweat -an' shovel-an' die |
-an' that's all there is to it.
He halted rather abruptly as a !
whistle sounded sharply from q
distant mill and the boss Of tie
gang rounded an adjacent corner.
Manuel returned to his pick, |
the sitting trench, the ceaseIess
blistering Of his hands with the
heavy implement, his back with
the sun. His heart was heavy,
his brows lowered over pair of |
deeply resentful eyes. It was
all true what the Irishman had |
said. He could understand
enough Of English to compre.
hend that. What did they get,
save bare subsistence After
the little hoard was filtered out |
for the passage over, the mar
riage, and the babies-two of |
them-what was the rest but
never.ending seryitude?
The light Of the early after.
noon was in his eyes, the air |
reeking with the redness Of its
glare, the dry dirt in his mouth |
and sitting through his heavy |
shirt. Great drops Of perspira- |
ton furrowed the dirt on his face
and hung suspended from the
ends of his limp, black hair.
There was no breeze, no GOODNESS
anywhere The sultriness was
maddening.
ManweIl.
The slim, youthful boss, CON-
Portable in loose fiannels, called
all the Portuguese MAXWELL, in
that soft, Yankee draWl, and
Manuel did not look up. He had
seeni from under the thatch of
his heavy brows, . man approach
the boss, whisper something to |
A,3s.s k--.s- - -.