“When we heard you going across the field we came out,” said one of the new-comers, who was delighted to find himself among friends once more. “There were strikers in the culvert, too, but they didn’t bother us, for they were as badly frightened as we were. If they had known that there was going to be a fight they wouldn’t have come near the bridge. They said so.”
“Seen anything of Hop?” asked Don, as soon as he had satisfied himself that his fat friend was not with the party.
“Not lately,” was the reply, “but I guess he’s all right. The last time I put eyes on him he was going up the track toward Bridgeport, beating the time of Maud S. all to pieces. If he kept on he’s at the academy by this time. I always had an idea that I could outrun Hop, but when he passed me I thought I was standing still.”
“Were there any strikers after him?”
“There wasn’t one in sight. When you fellows in the car got fairly to work, you kept such a fusillade that they were afraid to show their heads.”
By this time the litter was completed, and the wounded boy being placed upon it, the students resumed their march, stopping at the first house they came to, which proved to be a little German inn. The hospitable proprietor gave up his house to them; guards were posted at once; a good Samaritan, who was also a surgeon, promptly made his appearance; the wounded were tenderly cared for; and one of the corporals exchanged his uniform for a citizen’s suit, went into the city, reported the fight, and in due time returned with orders for the company to march in and report at the railroad depot.
When morning came the good Samaritan came also, accompanied by a liberal supply of hot coffee and a substantial breakfast, which were served out to the boys while they were sitting in the shade of the trees opposite the inn. The doctor took the wounded home with him to be cared for until they could be sent back to Bridgeport; and the others, having broken their fast, shouldered their guns and set out for Hamilton.
Don Gordon afterward said that his courage had never been so severely tested as it was that morning. On their way to the depot the students passed through the lower portion of the city and through the coal-yards in which the hands had just struck. Thousands of tons of coal were piled on each side of the narrow street, and on the top of these piles stood the striking workmen, who, outnumbering the boys more than twenty to one, and having every advantage of them in position, could have annihilated them in a minute’s time if they had made the attempt. It required all the nerve Don possessed to march through there with his eyes straight to the front, and his hair seemed to rise on end whenever he heard one of the men call out to his comrades:
“Thim’s the fellers, b’ys. Have a bit of coal at thim.”