the friendly road(友好的路)-第30节
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A spasm of pain crossed his face。
〃My daughter？〃 he said。 〃They killed her in the mills。〃
It was appallingthe dead level of the tone in which he uttered those
wordsthe monotone of an emotion long ago burned out； and yet leaving
frightful scars。
〃My friend！〃 I exclaimed； and I could not help laying my hand on his
arm。
I had the feeling I often have with troubled childrenan indescribable
pity that they have had to pass through the valley of the shadow； and I not
there to take them by the hand。
〃And was thisyour daughterwhat brought you to your present
belief？〃
〃No；〃 said he； 〃oh； no。 I was a Socialist； as you might say； from youth
up。 That is； I called myself a Socialist； but； comrade； I've learned this here
truth： that it ain't of so much importance that you possess a belief； as that
the belief possess you。 Do you understand？〃
〃I think；〃 said I； 〃that I understand。〃
Well； he told me his story； mostly in a curious； dull； detached wayas
though he were speaking of some third person in whom he felt only a
brotherly interest； but from time to time some incident or observation
would flame up out of the narrative； like the opening of the door of a
molten pitso that the glare hurt one！and then the story would die back
again into quiet narrative。
Like most working people he had never lived in the twentieth century
at all。 He was still in the feudal age； and his whole life had been a blind
and ceaseless struggle for the bare necessaries of life； broken from time to
time by fierce irregular wars called strikes。 He had never known anything
of a real self…governing commonwealth； and such progress as he and his
kind had made was never the result of their citizenship； of their powers as
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voters； but grew out of the explosive and ragged upheavals； of their own
half…organized societies and unions。
It was against the 〃black people〃 he said； that he was first on strike
back in the early nineties。 He told me all about it； how he had been
working in the mills pretty comfortablyhe was young and strong then；
with a fine growing family and a small home of his own。
〃It was as pretty a place as you would want to see；〃 he said； 〃we grew
cabbages and onions and turnipseverything grew fine！in the garden
behind the house。〃
And then the 〃black people〃 began to come in； little by little at first；
and then by the carload。 By the 〃black people〃 he meant the people from
Southern Europe； he called them 〃hordes〃〃hordes and hordes of 'em〃
Italians mostly； and they began getting into the mills and underbidding for
the jobs； so that wages slowly went down and at the same time the
machines were speeded up。 It seems that many of these 〃black people〃
were single men or vigorous young married people with only themselves
to support； while the old American workers were men with families and
little homes to pay for； and plenty of old grandfathers and mothers； to say
nothing of babies； depending upon them。
〃There wasn't a living for a decent family left；〃 he said。
So they struckand he told me in his dull monotone of the long
bitterness of that strike； the empty cupboards； the approach of winter with
no coal for the stoves and no warm clothing for the children。 He told me
that many of the old workers began to leave the town （some bound for the
larger cities； some for the Far West）。
〃But；〃 said he with a sudden outburst of emotion； 〃I couldn't leave。 I
had the woman and the children！〃
And presently the strike collapsed； and the workers rushed helter
skelter back to the mills to get their old jobs。 〃Begging like whipped
dogs；〃 he said bitterly。
Many of them found their places taken by the eager 〃black people；〃
and many had to go to work at lower wages in poorer placespunished for
the fight they had made。
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But he got along somehow； he said〃the woman was a good
manager〃 until one day he had the misfortune to get his hand caught in
the machinery。 It was a place which should have been protected with
guards； but was not。 He was laid up for several weeks； and the company；
claiming that the accident was due to his own stupidity and carelessness；
refused even to pay his wages while he was idle。 Well； the family had to
live somehow； and the woman and the daughter〃she was a little thing；〃
he said； 〃and frail〃the woman and the daughter went into the mill。 But
even with this new source of income they began to fall behind。 Money
which should have gone toward making the last payments on their home
（already long delayed by the strike） had now to go to the doctor and the
grocer。
〃We had to live；〃 said Bill Hahn。
Again and again he used this same phrase； 〃We had to live！〃 as a sort
of bedrock explanation for all the woes of life。
After a time； with one finger gone and a frightfully scarred handhe
held it up for me to seehe went back into the mill。
〃But it kept getting worse and worse；〃 said he； 〃and finally I couldn't
stand it any longer。〃
He and a group of friends got together secretly and tried to organize a
union； tried to get the workmen together to improve their own condition；
but in some way （〃they had spies everywhere；〃 he said） the manager
learned of the attempt and one morning when he reported at the mill he
was handed a slip asking him to call for his wages； that his help was no
longer required。
〃I'd been with that one company for twenty years and four months；〃 he
said bitterly； 〃I'd helped in my small way to build it up； make it a big
concern payin' 28 per cent。 dividends every year； I'd given part of my right
hand in doin' itand they threw me out like an old shoe。〃
He said he would have pulled up and gone away； but he still had the
little home and the garden； and his wife and daughter were still at work； so
he hung on grimly； trying to get some other job。 〃But what good is a man
for any other sort of work；〃 he said； 〃when he has been trained to the mills
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for thirty…two years！〃
It was not very long after that when the 〃great strike〃 beganindeed； it
grew out of the organization which he had tried to launchedand Bill
Hahn threw himself into it with all his strength。 He was one of the leaders。
I shall not attempt to repeat here his description of the bitter struggle； the
coming of the soldiery； the street riots； the long lists of arrests （〃some；〃
said he； 〃got into jail on purpose； so that they could at least have enough to
eat！〃）； the late meetings of strikers； the wild turmoil and excitement。
Of all this he told me； and then he stopped suddenly； and after a long
pause he said in a low voice：
〃Comrade； did ye ever see your wife and your sickly daughter and
your kids sufferin' for bread to eat？〃
He paused again with a hard； dry sob in his voice。
〃Did ye ever see that？〃
〃No；〃 said I； very humbly； 〃I have never seen anything like that。〃
He turned on me suddenly； and I shall never forget the look on his face；
nor the blaze in his eyes：
〃Then what can you know about working…man？〃
What could I answer？
A moment passed and then he said； as if a little remorseful at having
turned thus on me：
〃Comrade； I tell you； the iron entered my soulthem days。〃
It seems that the leaders of the strike were mostly old employees like
Bill Hahn； and the company had conceived the idea that if these men could
be eliminated the organization would collapse； and the strikers be forced
back to work。 One day Bill Hahn found that proceedings had been started
to turn him out of his home； upon which he had not been able to keep up
his payments； and at the same time the merchant； of whom he had been a
respected customer for years； refused to give him any further credit。
〃But we lived somehow；〃 he said； 〃we lived and we fought。〃
It was then that he began to see clearly what it all meant。 He said he
made a great discovery： that the
