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es 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 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 〃black people〃 against whom they had struck in 1894 were not to blame！
〃I tell you；〃 said he； 〃we found when we got started that them black peoplewe used to call 'em dagoeswere just workin' people like usand in hell with us。 They were good soldiers； them Eyetalians and Poles and Syrians； they fought with us to the end。〃
I shall not soon forget the intensely dramatic but perfectly simple way in which he told me how he came； as he said； 〃to see the true light。〃 Holding up his maimed right hand （that trembled a little）； he pointed one finger upward。
〃I seen the big hand in the sky；〃 he said； 〃I seen it as clear as daylight。〃
He said he saw at last what Socialism meant。 One day he went home from a strikers' meetingone of the last； for the men were worn out with their long struggle。 It was a bitter cold day； and he was completely discouraged。 When he reached his own street he saw a pile of household goods on the sidewalk in front of his home。 He saw his wife there wringing her hands and crying。 He said he could not take a step further； but sat down on a neighbour's porch and looked and looked。 〃It was curious；〃 he said； 〃but the only thing I could see or think about was our old family clock which they had stuck on top of the pile； half tipped over。 It looked odd and I wanted to set it up straight。 It was the clock we bought when we were married； and we'd had it about twenty years on the mantel in the livin'…room。 It was a good clock；〃 he said。
He paused and then smiled a little。
〃I never have figured it out why I should have been able to think of nothing but that clock；〃 he said； 〃but so it was。〃
When he got home； he found his frail daughter just coming out of the empty house； 〃coughing as though she was dyin'。〃 Something； he said； seemed to stop inside him。 Those were his words： 〃Something seemed to stop inside 'o me。〃
He turned away without saying a word； walked back to strike headquarters； borrowed a revolver from a friend； and started out along the main road which led into the better part of the town。
〃Did you ever hear o' Robert Winter？〃 he asked。
〃No；〃 said I。
〃Well； Robert Winter was the biggest gun of 'em all。 He owned the mills there and the largest store and the newspaper he pretty nearly owned the town。〃
He told me much more about Robert Winter which betrayed still a curious sort of feudal admiration for him； and for his great place and power； but I need not dwell on it here。 He told me how he climbed through a hemlock hedge （for the stone gateway was guarded） and walked through the snow toward the great house。
〃An' all the time I seemed to be seein' my daughter Margy right there before my eyes coughing as though she was dyin'。〃
It was just nightfall and all the windows were alight。 He crept up to a clump of bushes under a window and waited there a moment while he drew out and cocked his revolver。 Then he slowly reached upward until his head cleared the sill and he could look into the room。 〃A big； warm room；〃 he described it。
〃Comrade；〃 said he； 〃I had murder in my heart that night。〃
So he stood there looking in with the revolver ready cocked in his hand。
〃And what do you think I seen there？〃 he asked。
〃I cannot guess；〃 I said。
〃Well；〃 said Bill Hahn； 〃I seen the great Robert Winter that we had been fighting for five long monthsand he was down on his hands and knees on the carpethe had his little daughter on his backand he was creepin' about with heran' she was laughin'。〃
Bill Hahn paused。
〃I had a bead on him；〃 he said； 〃but I couldn't do itI just couldn't do it。〃
He came away all weak and trembling and cold； and； 〃Comrade；〃 he said； 〃I was cryin' like a baby； and didn't know why。〃
The next day the strike collapsed and there was the familiar stampede for work but Bill Hahn did not go back。 He knew it would be useless。 A week later his frail daughter died and was buried in the paupers field。
〃She was as truly killed；〃 he said； 〃as though some one had fired a bullet at her through a window。〃
〃And what did you do after that？〃 I asked； when he had paused for a long time with his chin on his breast。
〃Well；〃 sai