The daily Gate City. [volume] (Keokuk, Iowa) 1855-1916, 1912-07-16
II He DYNAMO Err
BY P. c. MAcFARLANE
corrncnr. 1919. y TN. PEARSON svsIrsHlsc co.


corrMcnr. 1919. ~ THs PEARSON sUsIrssiNc GO.
John Martin took up the bit of fuse
In his hand and looked at it. 1t was
two feet long, The end had been split
with knife so as to be lighted easily.
OATS de way We get 'im,' explained
Hoffman, exhibiting stick twice as
large as a tallow candle and wrapped
In oiled paper bun In color. "Dyna-
mite ISIS a hard hitter" he went on,
breaking the stick in his hands after
an apparently most reckless fashion.
revealing the composition within. q
soapy substance the hue OF light brown
sugar.
The molders and machinists' strike
was now four months open gore.
John Martins muscular frame had
long been stripped OF its last superfu-
Gus ounce. His lean face was 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 : 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.
Hoffman, short Of stature. with a
scrub of beard upon his face, his blood
shot eyes blazing. his whole body quiz
ering with animation, crowded further
into the shadow Of the lumber pile be-
hind which they were standing, and
leaned forward. a piece of the broken
stick of dynamite in either hand. as
he peered straight into the face of his
companion
But Martins features were, as usual,
inscrutable Three months before,
AFTER thirty years of scabbing. he
walked into the strike, big. calm,
seif-controlled fellow with kindly.
amiable features. Sorrow, hunger, be-
reavement, hardship. anxiety. and the
hald-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 word. He could rouse it with q
look. He was as good as the word of
Polonius in that he lent every man
his ear and few indeed his tongue in
facile speech. Slow OF word. he was
swift and mighty in deed. Not a bril-
liant thinker, yet he reasoned himself
solidly to conclusions which, once
gained, he stood upon with all the So
lldity Of his own splendid physical
constitution.
And now he was backed up behind
| the lumber pile listening while Holtz-
| man, called often enough and mac
curately the Dutchman, was ex-
pounding the Gospel Of Dynamite.
Martins great nose, emblem Of
energy, doomed between his unblinking
| eyes and frowned like promontory
! over the tightly drawn lips. II Holtz-
man had been sinuous soul, the big
mans piercing gaze would have ironed
out the wrinkles In it smoothly to his
understanding; but Hoffman was
nothing il not frank to the last fathom Of
! those abysmal depths of hatred which
! he nourished against what he regarded
| as the enemies of his class.
! BLOW EN- to hell up, Is vat / say
| he muttered again, in hoarse whis.
per, with a violent upward gesture of
| the arms and 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 If de strike
is not lost. hey. il We don't do some
/ dings?"
Martin was shifting at the open END
| OF the stick now. and gazing abstract
| eddy down the curve Of his nose.
! "a couple Of dozen sticks like dat
would make de Rockport shop look like
! Junk pile. vat?"
The dynamite crunnbled to fragment.
/ with nervous contraction of tht
/ strong mans fingers.
"Holtzman," Martin exclaimed, "yo,
are fool!'
"A fool, vat." exclaimed the sur
prised German.
Yes. fool. Property is sacred witt
me. Hoffman, as sacred as life, be
cause it's the product of life and tn,
means Of life. Our fight amt witt
bricks nor wheels. It's with men
/ The bosses need them factories t,
make their money with. We need zen
to make our money with. That's al
there Is to that. When man hits
scab on the head. can understand II
because I've done the same. But whel
he takes to THROWN dynamite around
, he's BLOWN up his own works What
the use to be doddering idiot, Holt7
MANI Property's sacred. It's got t
be, or there's nothing to civilization a
all. and you and me are just wolve
In the pack"
x am volf,' broke in Hoffman
: showing all his teeth and glaring re
! gums that were almost lupine in thel
hideousness. II would destroy ds
vich is destroying me- Dey viii ne
D rfi "a III :