Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1914-11-12

changing crowd had gathered around
man who from his soap box ha.
rangued them. He preached gospel
that, beginning with a germ OF love.
had grown In him into creed of hate.
II was a rambling incoherent ha-
rangue, full of bitter denunciation and
vague geaeralities that never came to
a point--the grotesque but pitiful out
pouring OF a feeble mind obsessed by
a SENSE of injury real or fancied and
cracking under the effort to inoculate
others with it's venom. Mark listened
moment
THE man must be mad" he thought
pitifully.
Piotr in his ramblings came to the
late strike. He began roll call OF
the masters of the Quinby company
Quinby himself, Henley. Higsbee.
Hare
And Truitt!" The hoarse voice be-
came, If that we're possible, even more
bitter. He fairly writhed as he shrieked
out his charges. "Truitt the wife
beater! The rounder! With his
women" For several minutes he
raved on, RECALLING his audience with
an array of disgusting but apocryphal
details of Truths life that to his dis
eased fancy must have become proved
facts.
go tell him to come here" Mark
ordered the cabman. Tell him his
father is dying"
Jaw, HE'LL" growled a big Irishman
in the crowd, audible even to the cab.
shut up! Truths tn only wan av tn
lot wild BOWLS t him.
"Fool-fool!" Piotr shook clenched
fists at the Irishman. Are you taken
in because he tried to stop the strike?
Who was he working for then, you or
Quinby? Where was he when Hen
ley's strike breakers came to steal
your jobs and shoot down your women?
Where was his money when your
children were starving for bread?
Where"
But the cabman had reached him
with Marks message. For a moment
Piotr stared stupidity, trying to take
in its meaning. Then he uttered a
wild piercing cry.
"Dying!" He leaned toward the
crowd, hands and face twitching in his
frenzy. MY fathers dying, but he
can wait while tell you about this
Truitt. When he was starting out
he came to our house, because my
father took pity on him. My father
loved him, better than he did his own
son. He watched over him, cared for
him, taught him all he knew of his
trade. Then the old man broke. He
wouldn't have been old anywhere else,
but he had burned himself up trying
to make Quinby's furnace bells pay
They threw him out, of course-and
Truitt took his job. Truitt-partner
of Quinby! The old mans heart broke
Then his mind gave way. And now
he's dying-do you know where? In
Rose alley!"
The crowd had become very still
To them, too, the tragedy that tor
tured the mailman was clear; infinite
repetition could not take away its bit
terness. IL.
And that isn't ALL" The emotional
delirium reached its climax. "In that
house was girl-just an ignorant
Hunky girl but the kind men love. And
Truitt made love to her. But when he
left us, he left her, too-another
broken heart! To forget him she mar
ried worthless rummy she had to
l! leave. Then she went out into the
city to make her own living-you
know the fight and the price women
must pay or go down. And she-the
girl he wouldn't take up with him
she paid"
Bewilderment choked back the
stream of words. For man-whose
pallor was not due to the garish arc
lamp-had leaped from the cab and
was elbowing a way swiftly toward
him. The crowd fell back to let the
man through, then pressed closer.
Only Piotr and the Irishman recog-
nized him. Mark caught Piotr by the
arm and jerked him roughly from the
box.
The Irishman's heavy hand fell on
Marks shoulder. Let be, sor." Then
he fell back before the livid counte-
nance Mark turned on him.
Keep out. I'll do him no harm. I'm
only taking him to his father, where
his place is instead of here black
guarding women he isn't At to touch"
Piotr jerked his arm free. Il won't
| go with you'll"
But the Irishman caught him. Yen
go as Misther Truitt tells yez. I'm
thinkin' he's just loony, sor"
(TO BE CONTINUED)