Part 22 (2/2)

In the distance he could see a tiny spot of light s.h.i.+ning high against the shadowy hillside above the darkness of the Flats. It was a lighted window in the Interpreter's hut.

As they sat in the night on the balcony porch, Jake Vodell said harshly to the old basket maker, ”You shall tell me about this Adam Ward, comrade. I hear many things. From what you say of your friends.h.i.+p with him in the years when he was a workman in the Mill and from your friends.h.i.+p with his son and daughter you must know better than any one else. Is it true that it was his new patented process that made him so rich?”

”The new process was undoubtedly the foundation of his success,”

answered the Interpreter, ”but it was the man's peculiar genius that enabled him to recognize the real value of the process and to foresee how it would revolutionize the industry. And it was his ability as an organizer and manager, together with his capacity for hard work, that enabled him to realize his vision. It is easily probable that not one of his fellow workmen could have developed and made use of the discovery as he has.”

Jake Vodell's black brows were raised with quickened interest. ”This new process was a discovery then? It was not the result of research and experiment?”

The Interpreter seemed to answer reluctantly. ”It was an accidental discovery, as many such things are.”

The agitator must have noticed that the old basket maker did not wish to talk of Adam Ward's patented process, but he continued his questions.

”Peter Martin was working in the Mill at the time of this wonderful discovery, was he?”

”Yes.”

”Oh! and Peter and Adam were friends, too?”

”Yes.”

The Interpreter's guest shrugged his shoulders and scowled his righteous indignation. ”And all these years that Adam Ward has been building up this Mill that grinds the bodies and souls of his fellow men into riches for himself and makes from the life blood of his employees the dollars that his son and daughter spend in wicked luxury--all these years his old friend Peter Martin has toiled for him exactly as the rest of his slaves have toiled. Bah! And still the priests and preachers make the people believe there is a G.o.d of Justice.”

The Interpreter replied, slowly, ”It may be after all, sir, that Peter Martin is richer than Adam Ward.”

”How richer?” demanded the other. ”When he lives in a poor little house, with no servants, no automobiles, no luxuries of any kind, and must work every day in the Mill with his son, while his daughter Mary slaves at the housekeeping for her father and brother! Look at Adam Ward and his great castle of a home--look at his possessions--at the fortune he will leave his children. Bah! Mr. Interpreter, do not talk to me such foolishness.”

”Is it foolishness to count happiness as wealth?” asked the Interpreter.

”Happiness?” growled the other. ”Is there such a thing? What does the laboring man know of happiness?”

And the Interpreter answered, ”Peter Martin, in the honorable peace and contentment of his useful years, and in the love of his family and friends, is the happiest man I have ever known. While Adam Ward--”

Jake Vodell sprang to his feet as if the Interpreter's words exhausted his patience, while he spoke as one moved by a spirit of contemptuous intolerance. ”You talk like a sentimental old woman. How is it possible that there should be happiness and contentment anywhere when all is injustice and slavery under this abominable capitalist system? First we shall have liberty--freedom--equality--then perhaps we may begin to talk of happiness. Is Sam Whaley and his friends who live down there in their miserable hovels--is Sam Whaley happy?”

”Sam Whaley has had exactly the same opportunity for happiness that Peter Martin has had,” answered the Interpreter. ”Opportunity, yes,”

snarled the other. ”Opportunity to cringe and whine and beg his master for a chance to live like a dog in a kennel, while he slaves to make his owners rich. Do you know what this man McIver says? I will tell you, Mr. Interpreter--you who prattle about a working man's happiness.

McIver says that the laboring cla.s.ses should be driven to their work with bayonets--that if his factory employees strike they will be forced to submission by the starvation of their women and children. Happiness!

You shall see what we will do to this man McIver before we talk of happiness. And you shall see what will happen to this castle of Adam Ward's and to this Mill that he says is his.”

”I think I should tell you, sir,” said the Interpreter, calmly, ”that in your Millsburgh campaign, at least, you are already defeated.”

”Defeated! Hah! That is good! And who do you say has defeated me, before I have commenced even to fight, heh?”

”You are defeated by Adam Ward's retirement from business,” came the strange reply.

<script>