CHAPTER XII.
MYLES FALLS INTO A TRAP.
THE straightforward account that Myles and his companion were able to give of themselves and their movements quickly convinced the dapper little lieutenant that they were all right, but he warned them never to do so again. He had to say this, or something like it, in order to impress them with the importance of his position. This was the first time he had ever worn the wonderfully gorgeous uniform of his battalion in actual service; he might never again have a chance to exhibit it as a real commander of real soldiers on real duty, and he believed in making the most of opportunities as they were presented.
At the conclusion of this farce the suspected individuals were set at liberty and allowed to communicate the unwelcome intelligence that one of the crack New York City regiments was on its way to Mountain Junction. It was unwelcome news to the lieutenant, because he knew that he would thus be speedily relieved of his command by some superior officer, and that his brief day of glory would be over.
“It is perfectly absurd to send more troops to this place,” he sputtered, “especially a lot of city boys. What good can they do, I should like to know? Why, a single night’s work such as we have just had would break them all up, while I, for instance, am fresh as a daisy and good for another just like it. I tell you, gentlemen, you want men of experience in affairs of this kind, not a lot of toy soldiers like those New York chaps. We don’t need any help here, even if they were the fellows to help us. I and my command are perfectly well able to attend to all the strikers in this part of the country. Why, we have cleared the town of them already, arrested their ringleader, and to-morrow, or rather to-day, I propose to run a train over the Western Division, and see that it goes through, too! Of course you will make no mention of this,” he added, with a laughable expression of anxiety; “for we do not wish our plans to be known generally.”
“Of course not,” answered Myles. “We understand that you do not wish to have your proposed ride on the cars interrupted by any meddlesome strikers. But whom did you say you arrested? I should like to have his name for publication.”
Now this word “publication” meant a great deal to Lieutenant Easter. To get his name into the New York papers as one of the heroes of this great strike would be the crowning glory of his military career. Of course this reporter could not describe the arrest of one of the ringleaders of the strike and its attendant circumstances without mentioning the important part borne in the affair by himself, the commanding officer. So, without noticing Myles’ remark about the proposed opening of the Western Division, he proceeded to give him a full account from his own point of view of what had taken place during the few hours just past.
According to this account, about one o’clock that night Mr. Watkins, filled with the responsibility of his position as acting division superintendent, had been making a round of the railroad buildings to see that every thing was all right. Near one of the car-shops he noticed a man evidently trying to conceal himself in its shadow. Mr. Watkins challenged him, asked him what he was doing there, and ordered him off the premises. The man, answering in the well-known voice of Jacob Allen, a recognized leader of the strike, said he was only going, by the shortest way, to his home, and that he did not propose to go back and take a roundabout route to please Mr. Watkins or anybody else. Thereupon Mr. Watkins, very properly, called one of the military guards of the building and ordered him to arrest Allen.
The guard attempted to obey this order, but the striker, exhibiting a desperate ferocity, snatched his gun from him, and, pointing it at them, ordered both Mr. Watkins and the guard to leave or he would shoot. He even went so far as to cock the gun, and of course they were obliged to do as he told them.