Fifty cots were secured, a cook-stove, tables and chairs, some light bed-clothing and a lot of tin dishes. Rude shelves were nailed up along the wall and a supply of canned vegetables, ham and bacon, coffee, sugar, condensed milk, molasses, flour, cornmeal, potatoes and other staples piled upon them, or heaped along the floor beneath. A cook from a small up-town café was hired and the superintendent did not forget to order in a case of tobacco, some decks of cards, dominoes, checkers, and a lot of illustrated papers. For the success of almost any strike-breaking depends on keeping the strike-breakers amused, in seeing that they are well-fed, and in taking care that they hold no communication with the strikers. Mr. Schofield proposed to take no chances of failure in any of these directions. While these preparations were being made, he called in the local detective employed by the road—a tall, raw-boned fellow named Stanley, a miracle of aggressiveness and nerve and with no little detective ability—and explained the situation to him. An hour later, that worthy marched into the mayor’s office at the head of ten husky men. “I want to get these fellows sworn in, Your Honor,” he said. “I guess you’ve heard about the strike.” The mayor looked down from his desk in some perturbation. The railroad element formed a very important portion of his clientele, and he was anxious to do nothing to offend it. “Now see here, Stanley,” he said, “you don’t need all this force. We’re not going to have any fighting here. If you need help, I’ll furnish it.” “Orders is orders, sir,” said Stanley. “I was told to git ten men, an’ I’ve got ’em.” “What are you going to do with them?” “Guard the company’s property, sir,” answered Stanley, promptly, for he knew the proper answer. “Is it in danger?” inquired the mayor, with irony. “It will be after to-morrow noon, sir. Besides, we’re going to get in a lot of strike-breakers to-night and we’re going to see that they’re not interfered with. And then I’ve got to patrol the yards and keep out trespassers. You see I’ve got a pretty big job on hand.” The mayor considered gloomily for a moment; but he really had no choice in the matter, so he reluctantly swore the men in, and handed each of them a special officer’s badge. “Now I just want to say one thing to you fellows,” he said, when this ceremony was finished. “These badges and the oath you have just taken give you authority to see that the law is observed—in other words, to see that no right, either of property or person, is interfered with. But they don’t give you a right to engage in a riot or to molest anybody who isn’t molesting you. Above all, they don’t give you a right to use your guns indiscriminately, and if any innocent person is hurt by you, some of you are going to suffer. I’ll see to that. That’s all.”