Among other things, he noticed a circular issued by one of the companies, which read: ATLANTIC AVENUE RAILROAD SPECIAL NOTICE The motormen and conductors and other employees of this company having abruptly left its service, an opportunity is now given to all loyal men who have struck against their will to be reinstated, providing they will make their applications by twelve o’clock noon on Wednesday, January 16th. Such men will be given employment (with guaranteed protection) in the order in which such applications are received, and runs and positions assigned them accordingly. Otherwise, they will be considered discharged, and every vacancy will be filled by a new man as soon as his services can be secured. (Signed) Benjamin Norton, _President._ He also noted among the want ads. one which read: WANTED.—50 skilled motormen, accustomed to Westinghouse system, to run U.S. mail cars only, in the City of Brooklyn; protection guaranteed. He noted particularly in each the “protection guaranteed.” It signified to him the unassailable power of the companies. “They’ve got the militia on their side,” he thought. “There isn’t anything those men can do.” While this was still in his mind, the incident with Oeslogge and Carrie occurred. There had been a good deal to irritate him, but this seemed much the worst. Never before had she accused him of stealing—or very near that. She doubted the naturalness of so large a bill. And he had worked so hard to make expenses seem light. He had been “doing” butcher and baker in order not to call on her. He had eaten very little—almost nothing. “Damn it all!” he said. “I can get something. I’m not down yet.” He thought that he really must do something now. It was too cheap to sit around after such an insinuation as this. Why, after a little, he would be standing anything. He got up and looked out the window into the chilly street. It came gradually into his mind, as he stood there, to go to Brooklyn. “Why not?” his mind said. “Any one can get work over there. You’ll get two a day.” “How about accidents?” said a voice. “You might get hurt.” “Oh, there won’t be much of that,” he answered. “They’ve called out the police. Any one who wants to run a car will be protected all right.” “You don’t know how to run a car,” rejoined the voice. “I won’t apply as a motorman,” he answered. “I can ring up fares all right.” “They’ll want motormen, mostly.” “They’ll take anybody; that I know.” For several hours he argued pro and con with this mental counsellor, feeling no need to act at once in a matter so sure of profit. In the morning he put on his best clothes, which were poor enough, and began stirring about, putting some bread and meat into a page of a newspaper. Carrie watched him, interested in this new move. “Where are you going?” she asked.