Warrington had made a hurried purchase. As he left the cigar store, he
saw the two men fall. He ran up quickly, wondering what the trouble
was. He had no idea that John was one of the men, but as he saw the
light grey suit, and the Panama lying on the ground, he knew.
"For God's sake, John, what are you doing?" he cried.
With a superhuman effort he dragged the enraged man from the prostrate
form in the road. It no longer struggled, but lay inert and without
motion.
"Was I killing him, Dick?" said John, in a quavering voice. "He struck
me and--Am I mad, or has the world turned upside down in a minute?"
"What did he say?" asked Warrington. He was badly frightened. He knelt
at the side of Bolles and felt of his heart. It still beat.
"What did he say? Nothing, nothing!--Where's my hat? I'm going home--
Have I--?"
"No, he's alive; but I came just in time."
At this moment Bolles turned over and slowly struggled to a sitting
posture. His hands went feebly toward his throat.
"He's all right," said Warrington. "We'd better light out. Now what
the devil--"
"He struck me. He was drunk. I've been in a fighting mood all day.
Call that carriage."
When Mrs. Jack saw him she screamed.
"John!"
"The asphalt was wet, girl, and I took a bad fall." But John lied with
ill grace.
Chapter XIV
The Bennington mills, or shops, were situated just inside the city
limits. Beyond was a beautiful undulating country of pastures and
wheat-fields, dotted frequently with fine country homes. The mills
were somewhat isolated from the general manufacturing settlement, but
had spurs of track that for practical purposes were much nearer the
main line of freight traffic than any of those manufacturing concerns
which posed as its rivals. It was a great quadrangle of brick, partly
surrounded by a prison-like wall. Within this wall was a court,
usually piled high with coke and coal and useless molds. The building
was, by turns, called foundry, mills and shops. The men who toiled
there called it the shops. Day and night, night and day, there was
clangor and rumbling and roaring and flashes of intense light. In the
daytime great volumes of smoke poured from the towering chimneys, and
at night flames shot up to the very walls of heaven, burnishing the
clouds.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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