Peter rose. “I am going to get some sleep, for we don’t know what’s before us, and may not have much after to-night. But, Ray, there’s a harder thing than leaving one’s wife at such a time.” “What’s that, Peter?” asked Ray, looking at Peter with surprise. “To know that there is no one to whom your going or return really matters.” Peter passed out of the cabin. “By George!” said Ray, “if it wasn’t Peter, I’d have sworn there was salt water in his eyes.” “Anneke has always insisted that he was lonely. I wonder if she’s right?” Ogden queried. “If he is, why the deuce does he get off in those solitary quarters of his?” “Ray,” said Ogden, “I have a sovereign contempt for a man who answers one question with another.” Peter reached the city at six the next morning, and, despite the hour, began his work at once. He made a number of calls in the district, holding whispered dialogues with men; who, as soon as Peter was gone, hurried about and held similar conversations with other men; who promptly went and did the same to still others. While they were doing this, Peter drove uptown, and went into Dickel’s riding academy. As he passed through the office, a man came out. “Ah, Mr. Stirling. Good-morning.” “Good-morning, Mr. Byrnes,” said Peter. “How serious is it likely to be?” “We can’t say yet. But the force has all it can do now to handle the Anarchists and unemployed, and if this strike takes place we shall need you.” Peter passed into another room where were eight men. “Good-morning, Colonel,” said one. “You are prompt.” “What is the trouble?” “The Central has decided to make a general reduction. They put it in force at noon to-day, and are so certain that the men will go out, that they’ve six hundred new hands ready somewhere to put right in.” “Byrnes tells me he has all he can do.” “Yes. We’ve obtained the governor’s consent to embody eight regiments. It isn’t only the strike that’s serious, but this parade of the unemployed to-morrow, and the meeting which the Anarchists have called in the City Hall. Byrnes reports a very ugly feeling, and buying of arms.” “It’s rather rough on you, Stirling,” spoke up a man, “to have it come while you are a nominee.” Peter smiled, and passed into the room beyond. “Good-morning, General Canfield,” he said. “I have taken the necessary steps to embody my regiment. Are there any further orders?” “If we need you, we shall put you at the Central Station,” the officer replied; “so, if you do not know the lay of the land, you had better familiarize yourself at once.” “General Canfield,” said Peter, “my regiment has probably more sympathizers with the strikers than has any other in the city. It could not be put in a worse place.” “Are you objecting to orders?” said the man, in a sharp decisive voice. “No,” replied Peter. “I am stating a fact, in hopes that it may prevent trouble.” The man and Peter looked each other in the eye.