Peter reached the city at six the next morning, and, despite the hour, began his work at once. He made a number of calls in the district, holding whispered dialogues with men; who, as soon as Peter was gone, hurried about and held similar conversations with other men; who promptly went and did the same to still others. While they were doing this, Peter drove uptown, and went into Dickel’s riding academy. As he passed through the office, a man came out.
“Ah, Mr. Stirling. Good-morning.”
“Good-morning, Mr. Byrnes,” said Peter. “How serious is it likely to be?”
“We can’t say yet. But the force has all it can do now to handle the Anarchists and unemployed, and if this strike takes place we shall need you.”
Peter passed into another room where were eight men.
“Good-morning, Colonel,” said one. “You are prompt.”
“What is the trouble?”
“The Central has decided to make a general reduction. They put it in force at noon to-day, and are so certain that the men will go out, that they’ve six hundred new hands ready somewhere to put right in.”
“Byrnes tells me he has all he can do.”
“Yes. We’ve obtained the governor’s consent to embody eight regiments. It isn’t only the strike that’s serious, but this parade of the unemployed to-morrow, and the meeting which the Anarchists have called in the City Hall. Byrnes reports a very ugly feeling, and buying of arms.”