The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1926-01-30

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as well as do, and that after it you'll be black
listed in every mill town in New England. But
you don't care if your children starve, do you?
You'd be glad to see us all dead, wouldn't your"
The man had crumpled under the attack, and
he seemed as small almost as his Infatuated
wife. But then he Strengthened in the dusty
pallor of the kitchen, and moved to the door.
"I'l see that you get a lot of groceries and
things from headquarters this morning., he
said huskily, as he went out into the dark, Bit
ter streets.
Kurelovtch shivered at his contact with the
gray, sharp air. thin ash of snow had fallen
through the night, and was now noisome
slush, after its brief experience with the mill
town, which degraded everything it touched.
The muddy ooZe Squirmed through the vul-
nerable spots in his shoes, and started the
gooseflesh along Kurelovitch's spine. Across
the river in the drab morning he could see the
residential heights where the rich dwelt, and
they reminded him of the village of his youth,
with its girdle of snow-covered hills and peace
full cottages. He remembered Polish lullaby
his mother used to sing to him. and shivered
the more.
From the rough bridge which bound the split
halves of the town he could see the mill, glow
ering and blocking shadows deep as ignorance
on the rotting ice of the river. The resplend-
ent emblem of America cleaned and waved
from a staff on the low, sprawling structure as
if to sanctify all that went on beneath. And
now Kurelovitch had traversed morass OF de-
caying huts and offal-strewn streets and was
directly within the massive shadow of the mill.
Two or three of his fellow-workers recognized
him, and came hurrying forward from the
picket line. Kurelovtch's day had begun
"The damned gunner are out for fight this
morning" said a sombre, chunky Pole, swath-
ed in old burlap and tremendous fur cap that
had come from Europe.
eyes, they must Rave gotten more booze
than usual last night" said another striker be-
tween his. chattering teeth.
A young picket with brooding, dark eyes
burst out with a hot voice, "Well, We'll give
| them any fight they want, the dirty lice. We're
not afraid" Kurelovitch put his hand on the
young chap, and then the three went with him
to where about fifty or more of the strikers
were shifting slowly up and down the length
of the wide mill gate
There were men and women in the line, all
dark and silent and seeming more like a host
of mourners than anything else in the world
of bitter sky and slush-laden earth They were
muffled to the chins in grotesque rags, and
their breaths went up like incense in the chi
morning. A mood of sadness and suspense
hung about them, and whenever they passed
the knot of gunner at the gate they turned
their eyes away almost in grief
Two of the gunner had detached themselves
from the evil-eyed mob huddled like a curse
at the gate. They carried clubs in their hands
and at their hips could be seen bullying the bad
ges of their mission in life, which was to break
] strikes and to murder
They came up to Kurelovitch and sneered at
him with sadstic eyes. AS he walked up and
down in the sluggish picket line, they logged
him and used their vilest art to taunt him into
| resistance. h4
About an hour later as he was departing
from the line, the two gunner still followed
him. A little group of pickets, therefore form
ed themselves in Gordon about Kurelovitch
and escorted him to the strike headquarters.
burning all the way with depressed rage. Kur-
| elovitch was marked man in the strike zone.
and his manning was a subject of much yearn-
i ing and planning by the gunmen.