Phoenix tribune., 1920-03-27
CITY OF PURPLE DREAMS

way and that, trampling the weak un-
derfoot, crushing, struggling, swearing,
without reason or purpose. The police,
Instantly suspecting a riot, rushed in,
using their batons freely.
BY sheer strength Fitzhugh wedged
his way to the protection of a door,
which, being partly open, gave way
before the impact of his body, precipi-
tating him intora narrow hallway. He
regained his feet in second, and
stepping outside closed the door and
stood with his back against it.
The next moment a singular thing
happened. From out that frenzied
mob, like ship tossed by a restless
sea into haven of safety, a woman
was swept sQuarely into his arms. For
bare moment he held her, flushed
and palpitating, in a close embrace.
Then he released her and saw her hat
was missing and that her clothing was
torn and disarrayed.
'Thank your she exclaimed breath
lessly. ......A.
The rays of nearby street lamp
fell athwart her face, and his first
thought was that she was Jewess !;
then a Russian, he added, apparently
Of good birth and schooling. Though
she spoke with slight foreign accent,
her English was grammatically per-
feet. Her forehead, unusually broad
and high for woman, and her cast of
features denoted uncommon intellect
Like angry waves the mob ragged
about them in their inadequate refuge
and he opened the door, pushed her
into the hallway, and followed, clos
ing the door behind them.
you'll find it safer in here" said
he, and added with some hesitation !:
\ '"I-my name is Fitzhugh. You needn't
tell me yours If you'd rather not"
Il see no reason why shouldn't, .
she retorted, yet with the hot color
flooding her cheeks. II am Esther
Strom, Mr.. Fitzhugh, and am very
happy to know you, even if only for
minute" She held out to him a
small, dark hand, and he pressed it in
his large, white one.
"Are you going inside?" she asked.
II don't think so," he laughed, and
motioned toward the crowd outside.
''How can II" 2Hyfa
"You-I might be able to get you
inf you care to CO."
He started. Then you are an"
"Oh!" Her hand fumbled excitedly
at her neck, then dropped to her side
with a little gesture of dismay. I'm
afraid I've lost something-something
valued very much. 1t was a brooch
an heirloom. And I've lost it"
He struck a match, and together
they searched the floor.
Perhaps you dropped it outside 81
he suggested; and feeling the neces-
sity of doing something. yet knowing
the futility of the action, he opened
the door leading to the street. Mid
way between the door and the alley
against the brick wall of the building
he saw a large packing case. He
noted 1t was of strong material, re-
enforced at the corners.
The woman seemed to have forgot
ten her loss in the rush of some
stronger emotion. She stood beside
him, gazing at the unclean crowd with
wistful eyes, and there shone in the
liquid depths great sadness, and
something far rarer besides-sympa-
thy. 'You poor, wretched people!" he
heard her murmur. "How l wish ]
could talk to you as should like to y
He looked at her quickly. His bud
ding thought burst suddenly into full
bloom. To "show off, before this
woman, to parade his talent before
her, to impress her and win her ad.
miration-what delight that would be
Perhaps 1 could do it for you," he
offered, his voice betraying his eager
ness. would you like to hear me
try?"
Without waiting for her answer,
fearful lest it be negative, he ell
bowed his way to the packing case,
mounted it, drew a deep breath, and
stood up to his full height. The arc
lamp, beating upon his face, served
uncommonly well for a calcium light
"Fel-low cit-i-zens" His deep-toned
bass doomed up and down the street.
''The time has come for revolt. The
rich and the mighty have ground us
In the dust long enough. We must
turn. We must claim our own. We
are the pro-ducers-the backbone of
this powerful nation. Who shall con-
troll 1.-THE capitalists or the working
men?"
His voice, deep and sonorous, pro-
nouncing each word very fully and
very distinctly, rang out over the dis
ordered crowd like foghorn cutting
through a misty night.
1t was the old story of noise being
mistaken for wisdom, and it inflamed
his hearers like fire to dry twigs.
Nothing could have more aroused
them. When after several minutes of
thunder and bombast he brought his
address to a whirlwind close and
bowed and turned to climb down, there
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