"Many of the strikers have been discharged and new men brought
on--five hundred of them--from New York and Chicago. I'm afraid we
haven't seen the worst of the troubles yet."
"Look! Look!" cried a boy, close beside Theodore, and the latter
looking ahead, saw a squad of mounted officers coming through a cross
street. Without stopping to parley they charged into the marching
strikers and dispersed them, silencing the fife and drum, and when the
furious mob of followers and sympathisers yelled threats and defiance
at the officers, the latter charged into the mob riding up to the
pavement and forcing the people back into the stores and dwellings
behind them.
This was as fuel to the fire of anger and insurrection. Deep and dire
threats passed from lip to lip, and evil purpose hardened into grim
determination as the mob slowly surged in the direction of the
car-house, after the officers had passed on. The throng was far more
quiet now, and far more dangerous. Again and again, Theodore caught
glimpses of Tom Steel's insignificant face, and like a long, dark
shadow, Carrots followed ever at his heels.
No cars were running now, but the boy heard low-spoken references to
new men and "scabs," and "the will of the people," as, almost without
effort of his own, he was borne onward with the throng.
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