He leaned out of the window and beckoned the guard.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"The strike," the guard answered. "You see, sir, there are ten or fifteen thousand men on strike here just now, and it seems they've got a little out of 'and."

"But what," asked Tony's companion, effectually filling the window,--"what has that to do with the trains? Why----"

"You see, sir," continued the guard with an apologetic air, "they've got a bit out of 'and. I don't know the rights of it--they do say they're underpaid, though the employers say they spend their wages on whippet-racing. Anyway, they're out----"

"But the _railway_, man. What----"

The guard coughed.

"Some of them's a bit 'asty, sir, likewise uncontrollable. It seems that they broke into the publics about midnight and 'ave been making a night of it, so to speak. They've sent for the soldiers, but they 'aven't arrived yet. And they've tore up some of the track. The breakdown gang is repairing it, but it will be an hour or so before we can get on."

"D'you hear that?"

"Rather," said Tony, getting up. "Let's go and have a look. I've never seen a raging mob."

"Better not, sir," advised the guard. "The town's not safe."

"They may listen to me," said Tony with simple grandeur. He turned to his companion. "Do you feel like playing with fire?"

The little man's eyes sparkled and he breathed quickly. He hesitated a moment with natural caution. Then----

"Yes," he said briefly. "Dash it! I--I feel as if I were beginning to live!"

Tony laughed and opened the door. The guard sighed.

"Well, gentlemen," he said, "don't say I didn't warn you. Anyhow, I'd advise you to leave your money behind and your watches, too."

"The man's a perfect Solon," said Tony, feeling in his trousers pocket.

"Here, guard, seven pounds three ... and a watch. If I perish, you may keep them, but remember that the watch needs winding night and morning."

The guard gazed dumbly at the evening dress. Then he turned to the other man, "You anything, sir?"

"N--nothing that matters," was the confused reply. "Come on! let's make a move!"

"Broke!" thought Tony. "But he hasn't tried to touch me yet. What a day out!"

CHAPTER X

HOW TO DRESS ON NOTHING A YEAR

The two men left the station and began to walk sharply toward the town, which was close at hand. The first street they entered was deserted, but evidence of the strike lay open to the shamed sky. Lamps, it is true, still stood erect, but their gla.s.s was shattered; missiles and rubbish littered the roadway, shop-windows had not a pane left whole, and here and there makeshift screens of boards replaced or protected the windows.

It was a scene of ruin, complete and piteous. The most curious feature was that not a soul was in the street: everything was still and lonely.

In the next street a similar spectacle met them--ruin and solitude. In a third, the same. In a fourth, the same. It was as if a battle had taken place, or rather as if the town had been sacked and cleared by an invading army, which had pa.s.sed on like a destroying angel, leaving signs of its progress, and signs alone.

"This is deuced odd," was Tony's comment--"deuced odd. The ruin does not surprise, for everything is possible in this age of Socialism. But is the spirit of curiosity dead? If so, _that_ will be 'the end of all things.' Surely everybody can not be murdered or afraid to come out.

Surely we shall light upon at least one brand from the burning--some pathetic, interesting, interested spectator. If it were but a man drunk in the gutter...."

"Yes, it's rum," agreed his companion. "But listen! I think I hear a noise over there to the right. Shall we go and see?"

Tony stopped, friendliness in his heart.

"I think you're right," he said. "But look here! Judging by what we've seen, these chaps won't stick at trifles. Personally I don't much care what happens, so long as I can get interested; but you're different--you're an older man. Hadn't you better try the station?"

The little man blushed.

"d.a.m.n it, sir!" he began, and then stopped. "I beg your pardon--I haven't sworn these twenty years, but I feel somehow different to-day.

What I mean is that I'm not a graybeard yet, and if you can be interested, I can. Come on!"

"All right," said Tony, warming to him. "Awfully sorry I said that. I say, you _are_ a sportsman----"

The other blushed again, but this time with pleasure. "Thank you. That is the second time I have been called a sportsman within twenty-four hours. I ... I rather like it, Mr.----. By the way, have you any objection to telling me your name?"

"Not a bit, if you'll tell me yours."

The little man considered a moment, and then----

"My name is Hedderwick," he said frankly. "I feel I can trust you to keep your own counsel."

"Of course. Mine is Tony Wild."

They had been walking quickly in the direction of the noise, which every minute became clearer. At last, guided by their ears, they entered a street where their curiosity was satisfied. At the farther end was a seething crowd of men, a few women, and a rabble of gutter children.

They were the strikers, or some of them, all excited and not a few drunk. As the guard had said, they were evidently somewhat out of hand, and the looting of the public-houses had not tended to a.s.suage their wrath. Fired by their alleged grievances, liquor, eloquence and the electricity of a mob, they had spent the last few hours in wrecking the town. The police had done all that was possible to stem the attack and vindicate law and order, but they were hopelessly outnumbered.

Reinforcements and soldiers had been telegraphed for, and were even now marching, but for the time being the local forces had retired to talk over the return match and exchange of lint and arnica. The strikers were in possession and thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Tony, whispering to his companion, "Keep close and don't get into arguments: pretend to be a labor leader, if you like!" pushed his way slowly through the crowd. Robert, his heart b.u.mping with fear, interest and excitement, followed him; he was afraid, but not too afraid, and he felt that his holiday was proving a success. When they reached the center of interest, after a tardy but good-humored progress, they were rewarded with a sight neither had hoped for.

The thickest of the crowd was swaying round a large shop. It was termed the emporium, and almost merited the t.i.tle. The happy anarchs had smashed every atom of the plate-gla.s.s, careless of the rate-payers, and then had proceeded to abolish such of the fittings as offended their esthetic sense. In the center of the window-s.p.a.ce, standing on a chair, was a cheerful striker, conducting a kind of auction. More strictly, it was a charitable distribution, for no one made any effort to pay for the goods received. The shop was a miniature Whiteley's, embracing everything from a perambulator to a parachute, and it was odd to watch the incongruity of some of the articles distributed. One man, for example, was given a child's feeding-bottle, and accepted it without demur; with a bellow of approval he seized it by the rubber tube and whirled it round, shouting, till the tube broke and the bottle flew off at a tangent. Another received half a pianola--the whole was too much for him to carry, and kindly friends helped him to bisect it with clubs and bars. A third, bemused with beer, staggered off with a dozen volumes of _Comparative Religion_, murmuring brokenly. "Suthin' f'r the kids to read," and dropping at intervals his burden in the mud. It was a pleasant ill.u.s.tration of good feeling and unselfishness.

A few moments after Tony and Robert had penetrated to the front, ready-made clothing was being distributed with a lavish hand. The auctioneer would seize a suit, or a part of a suit, from the nearest peg, and with humorous or profane comments throw it to one of the crowd.

"Who wants a waistcoat?" he was crying presently; "a regular fancy article, double-wove, stamped on every bleeding yard! Just the thing to fetch the girls! Just the thing to wear of a Sunday! and when the bloom's orf you can use it as an 'earth-rug or a tea-cozy! Just the thing--here y'are!" and he flung it to an outstretched hand.

"Now's our chance if we want a change!" whispered Robert. He meant it as a joke, and trembled as he saw Tony's face light up with amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Don't be a fool!" he whispered at once. "These chaps are simply mad----"

"Could you oblige me with a suit?" asked Tony suavely, but in the clearest tones. The crowd turned at the university accent. Hitherto they had been too busy to notice the new arrival, but as they observed the opera hat, the smart broadcloth and starched linen, they recognized the presence of one of the upper cla.s.ses and looked black. A murmur arose, growing in strength and hostility, and a voice suggested with painful clarity the dissection of his internal organs.

Tony took in the situation: another minute, and grumbling threats might be exchanged for action of an unpleasant kind; there was not a moment to lose. "Let me show you a thing, comrades!" he said brightly; and before the smoldering wrath could burst into flame he took off his hat and smote it. The fabric collapsed with a ridiculous _klop_, and the crowd, taken by surprise and ready to laugh at the mere trifle, roared. Tony spun it into the air with a careless grace, far over the heads of the throng; and as all eyes were fixed on its trajectory he pushed his way forward. "A moment, please!" he urged, shouldering on toward the shop.

"By your leave, sir! Excuse me, friend! Beg pardon, brother!" And behold! he was standing beside the auctioneer.