"They pay no more attention to us and take no more care of us than if we
were so many cattle," growled a man. "I couldn't get a single berth last
night." He was a big, sour-looking fellow, who wore patent-leather shoes
on his large feet, and a silk hat, now much rubbed--and a dirty silk
handkerchief was tucked in his soiled collar, and in his soiled shirt
front showed a supposititious diamond. He was, as I learned later, named
Wringman, and was a labor-leader of some note.
"Not as much as of cattle--for, at least, they water them," said
another, "they care nothing about our comfort."
"Unless they ride in a Pullman," interjected the man near me, who had
explained the situation.
The woman with the five children suddenly turned. "And that's true,
too," she said, with a glance of appreciation at him and a sudden flash
of hate at the big man with the diamond. Off and on all night the
children had, between naps, begged for water, and the mother had trudged
back and forth with the patience of an Egyptian water-carrier, but now
the water had given out, and the younger ones had been whimpering
because they were hungry.
I went forward, and about the engine, where I stood for a time, looking
on while we waited, I heard further criticism of the road, but along a
different line, from the trainmen:
"Well, I'll have to stand it," said one of them, the engineer, a man
past middle-age. "No more strikes for me. That one on the C. B. and B.
D. taught me a lesson. I was pretty well fixed then--had a nice house
and lot 'most paid for in the Building Company, and the furniture all
paid for, except a few instalments, and it all went. I thought we'd 'a'
starved that winter--and my wife's been sick ever since."
"I know," said his friend, "but if they cut down we've got to fight. I'm
willin' to starve to beat 'em."
"You may be; but you ain't got little children and a sick wife."
A little later I saw the flashily dressed man with the dirty
handkerchief talking to him, and insisting that they should fight the
company: "We'll bring 'em to their knees," he said, with many oaths. The
engineer kept silence, the younger man assented warmly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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