ing to a mill town in a freight car。
As we rolled along； I saw in a vision train after train of lodge men going to some happy city。 They were miners and steel workers； as well as clerks and teachers； and they were banded together； not like Reds to overthrow the wage system； but to teach themselves and their children how to make the wage system shed its greatest blessings upon all。 The city they were going to was one they had built with their own hands。 And in that city was a school where every trade was taught to fatherless children； as my father taught his trade to me。 And with this trade each child received the liberal education that the rich man gives his son but which the poor man goes without。 This was the wildest fancy I had ever entertained。 It was born of my own need of knowledge。 It was a dream I feared I could not hope to realize。
CHAPTER XXIV
JOE THE POOR BRAKEMAN
A brakeman stuck his head in the end window of the box car and shouted at me：
〃Where're you going？〃
〃Birmingham；〃 I answered。
〃What have you got to go on？〃
I had some money in my belt； but I would need that for the boarding…house keeper in the Alabama iron town。 So I drew something from my vest pocket and said：
〃This is all I've got left。〃
The trainman examined it by the dim light at the window。 His eye told him that it was a fine gold watch。 〃All right；〃 he said as be pocketed it and went away。 I never knew whether I cheated the brakeman or the brakeman cheated me。 The watch wasn't worth as much as the ride； but the ride wasn't his to sell。
I had bought the watch in Cincinnati。 A fake auction in a pawnshop attracted my attention as I walked along a street near the depot。 The auctioneer was offering a 〃solid gold； Swiss movement； eighteen jeweled watch〃 to the highest bidder。 〃This watch belongs to my friend Joe Coupling；〃 he said； 〃a brakeman on the B。 & O。 He was in a wreck and is now in the hospital。 Everybody knows that one of the best things a railroader has is his watch。 He only parts with it as a matter of life and death。 Joe has got to sell his watch and somebody is going to get a bargain。 This watch cost eighty…five dollars and you couldn't buy the like of it to…day for one hundred。 How much am I offered？〃 Some one bid five dollars； and the bidding continued until it was up to twenty…five dollars。 At that price the watch was declared sold； and I strolled on； thinking the matter over。 I figured that the story of Joe the injured brakeman must be false。 If he had an eighty…five…dollar watch he could borrow forty on it。 Why should his 〃friend〃 have sold it outright for twenty…five？ The fakery of it was plain to any one who stopped to think。 Who then would be fool enough to pay twenty…five dollars for a fake watch at a side auction？ Not I。 I was too wise。 〃How easy it is；〃 I said to myself； 〃to solve a skin game。〃
The next day I happened to pass the place again and they were selling the same watch。 I listened for the second time to the sad story of Joe the brakeman。 He was still in the hospital and still willing to sacrifice his eighty…five…dollar gold watch to the highest bidder。 Just for fun I started off the bidding at two dollars。 The auctioneer at once knocked down the watch to me and took my money。 The speed of it dazed me； and I stumbled along the street like a fool。 What was the game？ I held the glittering watch in my hand and gazed at it like a hypnotized bird。 I came to another pawnshop and went in。 〃What will you give me on this watch？〃 I asked。 The pawnbroker glanced at it and said he couldn't give me anything but advice。
〃I can buy these watches for three dollars a dozen。 They are made to be sold at auction。 The case is not gold and the works won't run。〃
I had been caught in the game after all。 The whole show had been put on for me。 The men who did the bidding the first day were 〃with the show。〃 Their scheme was to get a real bid from me。 When I failed to bite； they rung down the curtain and waited for the next come…on。 The show was staged again for me the following day； and that time they got me。 I had the 〃brakeman's watch〃 and he had the laugh on me。 In the next wreck that Brakeman Joe got into I wished him the same luck Comrade Bannerman wished for the trainload of plutocrats。 〃If I should meet Joe now；〃 I said； 〃I'd gladly give him back the timepiece that he prizes so。〃 Let us hope that the brakeman I gave the watch to down in Alabama was Brakeman Joe。
There was much to think of in that auction incident。 Experience will often give the lie to theory。 My theory of the game was good enough for me。 I acted on my theory； and they got my money。 Perhaps the theory of Bannerman was wrong。 He claimed he knew just how the capitalists were robbing labor。 Suppose we backed his theory with some money and got stung？ I was now theory shy and I have stayed away from theories ever since。
If you know the facts； no swindle can deceive you。 I spend my life in getting facts。 I now have seen enough to know that capitalism is not a swindle。 If all hands labored hard and honestly the system would enrich us all。 Some workers are dishonest and they gouge the employers。 Some employers are dishonest and they gouge the workers。 But whether employer or employee does the robbing； the public is the one that's robbed。 And they are both members of the public。 In making the world poorer they are rendering a sorry service to the world。
Dishonesty is the thing that does the trick。 And it is not confined to any class。 It was not a capitalist but a slick wind worker who robbed me by the watch swindle。 He had to swing his jaw for hours every day in order to steal a few dollars。
CHAPTER XXV
A DROP IN THE BUCKET OF BLOOD
In Birmingham I found a job in a rolling mill and established myself in a good boarding…house。 In those days a 〃good boarding… house〃 in iron workers' language meant one where you got good board。 One such was called 〃The Bucket of Blood。〃 It got its name because a bloody fight occurred there almost every day。 Any meal might end in a knock…down…and…drag…out。 The ambulance called there almost as often as the baker's cart。 But it was a 〃good〃 boarding…house。 And I established myself there。
Good board consists in lots of greasy meat； strong coffee and slabs of sweet pie with gummy crusts； as thick as the palm of your hand。 At the Bucket of Blood we had this delicious fare and plenty of it。 When a man comes out of the mills he wants quantity as well as quality。 We had both at the Bucket of Blood； and whenever a man got knocked out by a fist and was carted away in the ambulance； the next man on the waiting list was voted into our club to fill the vacancy。 We had what is called 〃family reach〃 at the table （both in feeding and fighting）。 Each man cut off a big quivering hunk of roast pork or greasy beef and passed the platter to his neighbor。 The landlady stood behind the chairs and directed two colored girls to pour coffee into each cup as it was emptied。
These cups were not china cups with little handles such as you use in your home。 They were big 〃ironstone〃 bowls the size of beer schooners； such as we used to see pictured at 〃Schmiddy's Place；〃 with the legend； 〃Largest In The City； 5c。〃 （How some of us would like to see those signs once more！） To prevent the handles from being broken off； these cups were made without handles。 They were so thick that you could drop them on the floor and not damage the cups。 When one man hit another on the head with this fragile china； the skull cracked before the teacup did。 The 〃family reach〃 which we developed in helping ourselves to food； was sometimes used in reaching across the table and felling a man with a blow on the chin。 Kipling has described this hale and hearty type of strong man's home in Fulta Fisher's Boarding… House where sailors rested from the sea。
〃A play of shadows on the wall；
A knife thrust unawares
And Hans came down （as cattle fall）；
Across the broken chairs。〃
But the boarders did not fight with knives at the Bucket of Blood。 Knifing is not an American game。 We fought with fists； coffee cups and pieces of furniture； after the furniture went to pieces。 We were not fighting to make the world safe for democracy； although we were the most democratic fellows in the world。 We slept two to a bed； four to a room。 Not always the same four； for like soldiers on the firing line； some comrade was missing after every battle。
These fights started in friendly banter。 One fellow would begin teasing another about his girl。 The whole table would take it up； every man doing his best to insult and enrage the victim。 It was all fun until some fellow's temper broke under the strain。 Then a rush； and a few wild swings that missed。 Then the thud of a blow that connected； and the fight was over。 These men had arms with the strength of a horse's leg； and as soon as their 〃kick〃 struck solid flesh； the man hit was knocked out。 He wouldn't be back for supper； but the rest of us would； without having our appetites disturbed in the least。 I didn't like these methods； but if the boys did I was not going to complain。
My practice of studying at night offended my roommates。 The lamplight got in their eyes。 There were three fellows in the room besides myself。 For several nights they advised me to 〃cut out the higher education； douse that light and come to bed。〃 Finally they spoke about it in the daytime。 〃Majority rules；〃 they said； 〃and there's three of us against you。 We can't sleep while you have that lamp burning。 The light keeps us awake and it also makes the room so hot that the devil couldn't stand it。 If you stay up reading to…night we'll give you the bum's rush。〃
I was so interested in my books that I couldn't help lingering with them after the other fellows went to bed。 Everything grew quiet。 Suddenly six hands sized me and flung me out the window。 It was a second…story window and I carried the screen with me。 But as it was full of air holes it didn't make a very competent parachute。 I landed with a thud on the roof of the woodshed； which； being old and soft with southern moss； caved in and carried me to the ground belowalive。 The fellows up above threw my books out the window； aiming them at my head。 They threw me my hat and coat and my