Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1912-07-04

something big, savage and unfeeling,
a man with limitations, yet possessed
of cunning and some mysterious gift
of leadership--a ruthless despot who
recklessly trades on the blind devotion
of his followers, and is endowed more
with ambition than with conscience.
Tho hour was late. The stairways
and halls at union headquarters were
dark and tomhlike when the echo of
heavy, spiritloss footsteps, rising dog
gcdly, broke the silence. The hand
rail-. too, creal;ed stridently. proclaim
ing that the late conner 10 these aban-
doned watches of silence leaned upon
it YEARLY After an interval there was
the flash of a light turned on in the
bare little office of the President of the
holders Local. and the shutter of
rolltop desk went up suddenly with
sharp rasp like the snarl Of a fright
ened beast.
Before the desk which, small and Of
cheap construction, was the principal
article Of furniture in the room, the
leader stood revealed. looking down
ward with care-stamped. patient feat
ures. Lean and powerful, he was big
enough to satisfy the most lurid mag
ination on the side of physical force,
but beyond that refused utterly to re-
scrlble a despot. His face was more
that of tired statesman than of an
agitator. From the yeined forehead
and the light of the deep burning eye
TO the firm mouth and knoblike chin,
not overlooking a nose pronouncedly
Romanesque, one gathered an instant
impression Of force intensity, and
L. too Dat n
dominance without self-will On 1t
was clearly marked capacity to per-
severe, but with it also the power to
sutherland still to pcrScrcrc. Besides,
the youth Of the face. for the man was
barely thirty-two. was cohwebbed over
with the gravity of fifty years
Sinking heavily into his chair, he
turned on a hooded light which left his
features half in shadow, while he
rubbed his hands restlessly for mo-
ment under the flood of light upon the
desk blotter, They were large. the
large hands of a workinRman. Only
six months ago they had burrowed all
day in the foundry sand like moles.
Now these hands belonged TO the leader
OF the strike. Yes. though international
representatives were there, and presl-
dents and eN-rrpsiGcnts of locals men
OF maturer yeas and Of ripcncd eXpc-
Renee as la.or leaders who were on
the ground ana fighting hard. yet John
Martin. the Young mOlder, had come
TO be recognized by all as the Big Man
Of the strike, the soul of it, the incar-
nation of that spirit of sacrifice and
struggle which would starve but would
not surrender its claim 10 the right Of
workingmen to bargain collectively for
the price of their toll, and to associate
themselves together for the realization
of those rights and privileges to which
working men are entitled, and which
can best be secured and maintained by
fraternal organization.
The leader of the strike. 1t sounded
fine and large. But John Martin cared
nothing for the sound. He felt only
the weight Of its meaning, which was
that thirteen hundred half-starved
men, with their families. hung the hope
Of their souls on him. He saw in the
darkness round The whites of thou
sand pairs of anxious eyes-eyes that
rpared at him. some balefully. some
wistfully all intcntly, so intently that
thy puncturcd lis soul. It was this
that made him weary, for the languor
that lay upon his limbs was nervous
and not muscular, His heart was
tired.
II was between eight and nine o'clocl.
IN the morning now. A little knot of
men were grouped in the hall just a
few feet from tho head Of the stair
way, waiting with downcast faces for
John Martin to come to his office AS
they waited they talked, speaking
modify in detected tones with heavy
silences between.
Somebody's got to break II to him."
muttercd Anderson, president of the
Machinists' Local
Yes" said Bolan. unfeelingly, The
might as we'll know it."
But Bolan was ex-president OF the
Molders. Martin had practically ousted
him from control there. Bolan might
be suspected of jealousy.
The jigs up" confessed Kaufman
OF the International Machinists. "We'r'
beat"
yes" groaned McKichnie, and ther
exclaimed, Queer, he don't come
looking nervously at his watch. Nc
Kichnie was organizer for the lnterna
tional Molders and had been from th'
beginning a sort of godfather OF tia
SlTlkt anu Oh JO0H nIdItli no we'll
II thought he might "a got her
first" explained Anderson. 80 trie'
his door when came. and that's nea
an hour ago, but it was locked
An idea came to McKichnie. II
walked softly down to the door OF Mar
tins Office. and listened intently. Wit
something like a start he turned an
came silently back
Hes in there now" he murmure
In low tones of surprise.
Good God. He must "a been Their
all night" breathed Anderson. in aw
of such fidelity.
Concertedly the men moved dow
the hall. and McKichnie knocked upo
the door
Come In" called a weary voice.
"He must a. turned the key after h
heard me at the door" whispered AT
derson, as he saw the knob yield unde
the hand of McKiohnie.
The man was bowed over his des
with some scraps of paper before hin
drawing aimless lines upon then
Martin greeted his callers gravely. an
they helped themselves to seats. n
had turned in his swivel chair and sa
in silence. his long legs crossed,
heavy lock Of hair hanging over hi