penginapan murah green canyon

chapter 18 jurgis did not get out of the bridewellquite as soon as he had expected. to his sentence there were added "courtcosts" of a dollar and a half--he was supposed to pay for the trouble of puttinghim in jail, and not having the money, was obliged to work it off by three days moreof toil. nobody had taken the trouble to tell himthis--only after counting the days and looking forward to the end in an agony ofimpatience, when the hour came that he expected to be free he found himself still set at the stone heap, and laughed at whenhe ventured to protest.

then he concluded he must have countedwrong; but as another day passed, he gave up all hope--and was sunk in the depths ofdespair, when one morning after breakfast a keeper came to him with the word that histime was up at last. so he doffed his prison garb, and put onhis old fertilizer clothing, and heard the door of the prison clang behind him. he stood upon the steps, bewildered; hecould hardly believe that it was true,-- that the sky was above him again and theopen street before him; that he was a free man. but then the cold began to strike throughhis clothes, and he started quickly away.

there had been a heavy snow, and now a thawhad set in; fine sleety rain was falling, driven by a wind that pierced jurgis to thebone. he had not stopped for his-overcoat when heset out to "do up" connor, and so his rides in the patrol wagons had been cruelexperiences; his clothing was old and worn thin, and it never had been very warm. now as he trudged on the rain soon wet itthrough; there were six inches of watery slush on the sidewalks, so that his feetwould soon have been soaked, even had there been no holes in his shoes. jurgis had had enough to eat in the jail,and the work had been the least trying of

any that he had done since he came tochicago; but even so, he had not grown strong--the fear and grief that had preyedupon his mind had worn him thin. now he shivered and shrunk from the rain,hiding his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders together. the bridewell grounds were on the outskirtsof the city and the country around them was unsettled and wild--on one side was the bigdrainage canal, and on the other a maze of railroad tracks, and so the wind had fullsweep. after walking a ways, jurgis met a littleragamuffin whom he hailed: "hey, sonny!" the boy cocked one eye at him--he knew thatjurgis was a "jailbird" by his shaven head.

"wot yer want?" he queried."how do you go to the stockyards?" jurgis demanded. "i don't go," replied the boy.jurgis hesitated a moment, nonplussed. then he said, "i mean which is the way?" "why don't yer say so then?" was theresponse, and the boy pointed to the northwest, across the tracks."that way." "how far is it?" jurgis asked."i dunno," said the other. "mebbe twenty miles or so.""twenty miles!"

jurgis echoed, and his face fell. he had to walk every foot of it, for theyhad turned him out of jail without a penny in his pockets. yet, when he once got started, and hisblood had warmed with walking, he forgot everything in the fever of his thoughts. all the dreadful imaginations that hadhaunted him in his cell now rushed into his mind at once. the agony was almost over--he was going tofind out; and he clenched his hands in his pockets as he strode, following his flyingdesire, almost at a run.

ona--the baby--the family--the house--hewould know the truth about them all! and he was coming to the rescue--he wasfree again! his hands were his own, and he could helpthem, he could do battle for them against the world.for an hour or so he walked thus, and then he began to look about him. he seemed to be leaving the cityaltogether. the street was turning into a country road,leading out to the westward; there were snow-covered fields on either side of him. soon he met a farmer driving a two-horsewagon loaded with straw, and he stopped

him."is this the way to the stockyards?" he asked. the farmer scratched his head."i dunno jest where they be," he said. "but they're in the city somewhere, andyou're going dead away from it now." jurgis looked dazed. "i was told this was the way," he said."who told you?" "a boy.""well, mebbe he was playing a joke on ye. the best thing ye kin do is to go back, andwhen ye git into town ask a policeman. i'd take ye in, only i've come a long waysan' i'm loaded heavy.

git up!" so jurgis turned and followed, and towardthe end of the morning he began to see chicago again. past endless blocks of two-story shantieshe walked, along wooden sidewalks and unpaved pathways treacherous with deepslush holes. every few blocks there would be a railroadcrossing on the level with the sidewalk, a deathtrap for the unwary; long freighttrains would be passing, the cars clanking and crashing together, and jurgis would pace about waiting, burning up with a feverof impatience.

occasionally the cars would stop for someminutes, and wagons and streetcars would crowd together waiting, the driversswearing at each other, or hiding beneath umbrellas out of the rain; at such times jurgis would dodge under the gates and runacross the tracks and between the cars, taking his life into his hands.he crossed a long bridge over a river frozen solid and covered with slush. not even on the river bank was the snowwhite--the rain which fell was a diluted solution of smoke, and jurgis' hands andface were streaked with black. then he came into the business part of thecity, where the streets were sewers of inky

blackness, with horses sleeping andplunging, and women and children flying across in panic-stricken droves. these streets were huge canyons formed bytowering black buildings, echoing with the clang of car gongs and the shouts ofdrivers; the people who swarmed in them were as busy as ants--all hurrying breathlessly, never stopping to look atanything nor at each other. the solitary trampish-looking foreigner,with water-soaked clothing and haggard face and anxious eyes, was as much alone as hehurried past them, as much unheeded and as lost, as if he had been a thousand milesdeep in a wilderness.

a policeman gave him his direction and toldhim that he had five miles to go. he came again to the slum districts, toavenues of saloons and cheap stores, with long dingy red factory buildings, and coal-yards and railroad tracks; and then jurgis lifted up his head and began to sniff the air like a startled animal--scenting thefar-off odor of home. it was late afternoon then, and he washungry, but the dinner invitations hung out of the saloons were not for him. so he came at last to the stockyards, tothe black volcanoes of smoke and the lowing cattle and the stench.

then, seeing a crowded car, his impatiencegot the better of him and he jumped aboard, hiding behind another man, unnoticed by theconductor. in ten minutes more he had reached hisstreet, and home. he was half running as he came round thecorner. there was the house, at any rate--and thensuddenly he stopped and stared. what was the matter with the house? jurgis looked twice, bewildered; then heglanced at the house next door and at the one beyond--then at the saloon on thecorner. yes, it was the right place, quitecertainly--he had not made any mistake.

but the house--the house was a differentcolor! he came a couple of steps nearer. yes; it had been gray and now it wasyellow! the trimmings around the windows had beenred, and now they were green! it was all newly painted! how strange it made it seem!jurgis went closer yet, but keeping on the other side of the street.a sudden and horrible spasm of fear had come over him. his knees were shaking beneath him, and hismind was in a whirl.

new paint on the house, and newweatherboards, where the old had begun to rot off, and the agent had got after them! new shingles over the hole in the roof,too, the hole that had for six months been the bane of his soul--he having no money tohave it fixed and no time to fix it himself, and the rain leaking in, and overflowing the pots and pans he put tocatch it, and flooding the attic and loosening the plaster.and now it was fixed! and the broken windowpane replaced! and curtains in the windows!new, white curtains, stiff and shiny!

then suddenly the front door opened.jurgis stood, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. a boy had come out, a stranger to him; abig, fat, rosy-cheeked youngster, such as had never been seen in his home before.jurgis stared at the boy, fascinated. he came down the steps whistling, kickingoff the snow. he stopped at the foot, and picked up some,and then leaned against the railing, making a snowball. a moment later he looked around and sawjurgis, and their eyes met; it was a hostile glance, the boy evidently thinkingthat the other had suspicions of the

snowball. when jurgis started slowly across thestreet toward him, he gave a quick glance about, meditating retreat, but then heconcluded to stand his ground. jurgis took hold of the railing of thesteps, for he was a little unsteady. "what--what are you doing here?" he managedto gasp. "go on!" said the boy. "you--" jurgis tried again."what do you want here?" "me?" answered the boy, angrily."i live here." "you live here!"

jurgis panted.he turned white and clung more tightly to the railing."you live here! then where's my family?" the boy looked surprised."your family!" he echoed. and jurgis started toward him."i--this is my house!" he cried. "come off!" said the boy; then suddenly thedoor upstairs opened, and he called: "hey, ma!here's a fellow says he owns this house." a stout irishwoman came to the top of thesteps. "what's that?" she demanded.jurgis turned toward her.

"where is my family?" he cried, wildly. "i left them here!this is my home! what are you doing in my home?" the woman stared at him in frightenedwonder, she must have thought she was dealing with a maniac--jurgis looked likeone. "your home!" she echoed. "my home!" he half shrieked."i lived here, i tell you." "you must be mistaken," she answered him."no one ever lived here. this is a new house.

they told us so.they--" "what have they done with my family?"shouted jurgis, frantically. a light had begun to break upon the woman;perhaps she had had doubts of what "they" had told her."i don't know where your family is," she said. "i bought the house only three days ago,and there was nobody here, and they told me it was all new.do you really mean you had ever rented it?" "rented it!" panted jurgis. "i bought it!i paid for it!

i own it!and they--my god, can't you tell me where my people went?" she made him understand at last that sheknew nothing. jurgis' brain was so confused that he couldnot grasp the situation. it was as if his family had been wiped outof existence; as if they were proving to be dream people, who never had existed at all. he was quite lost--but then suddenly hethought of grandmother majauszkiene, who lived in the next block.she would know! he turned and started at a run.

grandmother majauszkiene came to the doorherself. she cried out when she saw jurgis, wild-eyed and shaking. yes, yes, she could tell him. the family had moved; they had not beenable to pay the rent and they had been turned out into the snow, and the house hadbeen repainted and sold again the next week. no, she had not heard how they were, butshe could tell him that they had gone back to aniele jukniene, with whom they hadstayed when they first came to the yards. wouldn't jurgis come in and rest?

it was certainly too bad--if only he hadnot got into jail-- and so jurgis turned and staggered away. he did not go very far round the corner hegave out completely, and sat down on the steps of a saloon, and hid his face in hishands, and shook all over with dry, racking sobs. their home!their home! they had lost it! grief, despair, rage, overwhelmed him--whatwas any imagination of the thing to this heartbreaking, crushing reality of it--tothe sight of strange people living in his

house, hanging their curtains to hiswindows, staring at him with hostile eyes! it was monstrous, it was unthinkable--theycould not do it--it could not be true! only think what he had suffered for thathouse--what miseries they had all suffered for it--the price they had paid for it!the whole long agony came back to him. their sacrifices in the beginning, theirthree hundred dollars that they had scraped together, all they owned in the world, allthat stood between them and starvation! and then their toil, month by month, to gettogether the twelve dollars, and the interest as well, and now and then thetaxes, and the other charges, and the repairs, and what not!

why, they had put their very souls intotheir payments on that house, they had paid for it with their sweat and tears--yes,more, with their very lifeblood. dede antanas had died of the struggle toearn that money--he would have been alive and strong today if he had not had to workin durham's dark cellars to earn his share. and ona, too, had given her health andstrength to pay for it--she was wrecked and ruined because of it; and so was he, whohad been a big, strong man three years ago, and now sat here shivering, broken, cowed,weeping like a hysterical child. ah! they had cast their all into the fight;and they had lost, they had lost! all that they had paid was gone--every centof it.

and their house was gone--they were backwhere they had started from, flung out into the cold to starve and freeze! jurgis could see all the truth now--couldsee himself, through the whole long course of events, the victim of ravenous vulturesthat had torn into his vitals and devoured him; of fiends that had racked and tortured him, mocking him, meantime, jeering in hisface. ah, god, the horror of it, the monstrous,hideous, demoniacal wickedness of it! he and his family, helpless women andchildren, struggling to live, ignorant and defenseless and forlorn as they were--andthe enemies that had been lurking for them,

crouching upon their trail and thirstingfor their blood! that first lying circular, that smooth-tongued slippery agent! that trap of the extra payments, theinterest, and all the other charges that they had not the means to pay, and wouldnever have attempted to pay! and then all the tricks of the packers,their masters, the tyrants who ruled them-- the shutdowns and the scarcity of work, theirregular hours and the cruel speeding-up, the lowering of wages, the raising ofprices! the mercilessness of nature about them, ofheat and cold, rain and snow; the mercilessness of the city, of the countryin which they lived, of its laws and

customs that they did not understand! all of these things had worked together forthe company that had marked them for its prey and was waiting for its chance. and now, with this last hideous injustice,its time had come, and it had turned them out bag and baggage, and taken their houseand sold it again! and they could do nothing, they were tiedhand and foot--the law was against them, the whole machinery of society was at theiroppressors' command! if jurgis so much as raised a hand againstthem, back he would go into that wild-beast pen from which he had just escaped!

to get up and go away was to give up, toacknowledge defeat, to leave the strange family in possession; and jurgis might havesat shivering in the rain for hours before he could do that, had it not been for thethought of his family. it might be that he had worse things yet tolearn--and so he got to his feet and started away, walking on, wearily, half-dazed. to aniele's house, in back of the yards,was a good two miles; the distance had never seemed longer to jurgis, and when hesaw the familiar dingy-gray shanty his heart was beating fast. he ran up the steps and began to hammerupon the door.

the old woman herself came to open it. she had shrunk all up with her rheumatismsince jurgis had seen her last, and her yellow parchment face stared up at him froma little above the level of the doorknob. she gave a start when she saw him. "is ona here?" he cried, breathlessly."yes," was the answer, "she's here." "how--" jurgis began, and then stoppedshort, clutching convulsively at the side of the door. from somewhere within the house had come asudden cry, a wild, horrible scream of anguish.and the voice was ona's.

for a moment jurgis stood half-paralyzedwith fright; then he bounded past the old woman and into the room. it was aniele's kitchen, and huddled roundthe stove were half a dozen women, pale and frightened. one of them started to her feet as jurgisentered; she was haggard and frightfully thin, with one arm tied up in bandages--hehardly realized that it was marija. he looked first for ona; then, not seeingher, he stared at the women, expecting them to speak. but they sat dumb, gazing back at him,panic-stricken; and a second later came

another piercing scream.it was from the rear of the house, and upstairs. jurgis bounded to a door of the room andflung it open; there was a ladder leading through a trap door to the garret, and hewas at the foot of it when suddenly he heard a voice behind him, and saw marija athis heels. she seized him by the sleeve with her goodhand, panting wildly, "no, no, jurgis! stop!" "what do you mean?" he gasped."you mustn't go up," she cried. jurgis was half-crazed with bewildermentand fright.

"what's the matter?" he shouted. "what is it?"marija clung to him tightly; he could hear ona sobbing and moaning above, and hefought to get away and climb up, without waiting for her reply. "no, no," she rushed on."jurgis! you mustn't go up!it's--it's the child!" "the child?" he echoed in perplexity. "antanas?"marija answered him, in a whisper: "the new one!"and then jurgis went limp, and caught

himself on the ladder. he stared at her as if she were a ghost."the new one!" he gasped. "but it isn't time," he added, wildly.marija nodded. "i know," she said; "but it's come." and then again came ona's scream, smitinghim like a blow in the face, making him wince and turn white. her voice died away into a wail--then heheard her sobbing again, "my god--let me die, let me die!"and marija hung her arms about him, crying: "come out!

come away!"she dragged him back into the kitchen, half carrying him, for he had gone all topieces. it was as if the pillars of his soul hadfallen in--he was blasted with horror. in the room he sank into a chair, tremblinglike a leaf, marija still holding him, and the women staring at him in dumb, helplessfright. and then again ona cried out; he could hearit nearly as plainly here, and he staggered to his feet."how long has this been going on?" he panted. "not very long," marija answered, and then,at a signal from aniele, she rushed on:

"you go away, jurgis you can't help--goaway and come back later. it's all right--it's--" "who's with her?"jurgis demanded; and then, seeing marija hesitating, he cried again, "who's withher?" "she's--she's all right," she answered. "elzbieta's with her.""but the doctor!" he panted. "some one who knows!" he seized marija by the arm; she trembled,and her voice sank beneath a whisper as she replied, "we--we have no money."then, frightened at the look on his face,

she exclaimed: "it's all right, jurgis! you don't understand--go away--go away!ah, if you only had waited!" above her protests jurgis heard ona again;he was almost out of his mind. it was all new to him, raw and horrible--ithad fallen upon him like a lightning stroke. when little antanas was born he had been atwork, and had known nothing about it until it was over; and now he was not to becontrolled. the frightened women were at their wits'end; one after another they tried to reason with him, to make him understand that thiswas the lot of woman.

in the end they half drove him out into therain, where he began to pace up and down, bareheaded and frantic. because he could hear ona from the street,he would first go away to escape the sounds, and then come back because he couldnot help it. at the end of a quarter of an hour herushed up the steps again, and for fear that he would break in the door they had toopen it and let him in. there was no arguing with him. they could not tell him that all was goingwell--how could they know, he cried--why, she was dying, she was being torn topieces!

listen to her--listen! why, it was monstrous--it could not beallowed--there must be some help for it! had they tried to get a doctor?they might pay him afterward--they could promise-- "we couldn't promise, jurgis," protestedmarija. "we had no money--we have scarcely beenable to keep alive." "but i can work," jurgis exclaimed. "i can earn money!""yes," she answered--"but we thought you were in jail.how could we know when you would return?

they will not work for nothing." marija went on to tell how she had tried tofind a midwife, and how they had demanded ten, fifteen, even twenty-five dollars, andthat in cash. "and i had only a quarter," she said. "i have spent every cent of my money--allthat i had in the bank; and i owe the doctor who has been coming to see me, andhe has stopped because he thinks i don't mean to pay him. and we owe aniele for two weeks' rent, andshe is nearly starving, and is afraid of being turned out.

we have been borrowing and begging to keepalive, and there is nothing more we can do- -""and the children?" cried jurgis. "the children have not been home for threedays, the weather has been so bad. they could not know what is happening--itcame suddenly, two months before we expected it." jurgis was standing by the table, and hecaught himself with his hand; his head sank and his arms shook--it looked as if he weregoing to collapse. then suddenly aniele got up and camehobbling toward him, fumbling in her skirt pocket.she drew out a dirty rag, in one corner of

which she had something tied. "here, jurgis!" she said, "i have somemoney. palauk! see!" she unwrapped it and counted it out--thirty-four cents. "you go, now," she said, "and try and getsomebody yourself. and maybe the rest can help--give him somemoney, you; he will pay you back some day, and it will do him good to have somethingto think about, even if he doesn't succeed. when he comes back, maybe it will be over." and so the other women turned out thecontents of their pocketbooks; most of them had only pennies and nickels, but they gavehim all.

mrs. olszewski, who lived next door, andhad a husband who was a skilled cattle butcher, but a drinking man, gave nearlyhalf a dollar, enough to raise the whole sum to a dollar and a quarter. then jurgis thrust it into his pocket,still holding it tightly in his fist, and started away at a run. > chapter 19 "madame haupt hebamme", ran a sign,swinging from a second-story window over a saloon on the avenue; at a side door wasanother sign, with a hand pointing up a

dingy flight of stairs. jurgis went up them, three at a time.madame haupt was frying pork and onions, and had her door half open to let out thesmoke. when he tried to knock upon it, it swungopen the rest of the way, and he had a glimpse of her, with a black bottle turnedup to her lips. then he knocked louder, and she started andput it away. she was a dutchwoman, enormously fat--whenshe walked she rolled like a small boat on the ocean, and the dishes in the cupboardjostled each other. she wore a filthy blue wrapper, and herteeth were black.

"vot is it?" she said, when she saw jurgis.he had run like mad all the way and was so out of breath he could hardly speak. his hair was flying and his eyes wild--helooked like a man that had risen from the tomb."my wife!" he panted. "come quickly!" madame haupt set the frying pan to one sideand wiped her hands on her wrapper. "you vant me to come for a case?" sheinquired. "yes," gasped jurgis. "i haf yust come back from a case," shesaid.

"i haf had no time to eat my dinner.still--if it is so bad--" "yes--it is!" cried he. "vell, den, perhaps--vot you pay?""i--i--how much do you want?" jurgis stammered."tventy-five dollars." his face fell. "i can't pay that," he said.the woman was watching him narrowly. "how much do you pay?" she demanded."must i pay now--right away?" "yes; all my customers do." "i--i haven't much money," jurgis began inan agony of dread.

"i've been in--in trouble--and my money isgone. but i'll pay you--every cent--just as soonas i can; i can work--" "vot is your work?""i have no place now. i must get one. but i--""how much haf you got now?" he could hardly bring himself to reply.when he said "a dollar and a quarter," the woman laughed in his face. "i vould not put on my hat for a dollar anda quarter," she said. "it's all i've got," he pleaded, his voicebreaking.

"i must get some one--my wife will die. i can't help it--i--"madame haupt had put back her pork and onions on the stove. she turned to him and answered, out of thesteam and noise: "git me ten dollars cash, und so you can pay me the rest next mont'.""i can't do it--i haven't got it!" jurgis protested. "i tell you i have only a dollar and aquarter." the woman turned to her work."i don't believe you," she said. "dot is all to try to sheat me.

vot is de reason a big man like you has gotonly a dollar und a quarter?" "i've just been in jail," jurgis cried--hewas ready to get down upon his knees to the woman--"and i had no money before, and myfamily has almost starved." "vere is your friends, dot ought to helpyou?" "they are all poor," he answered."they gave me this. i have done everything i can--" "haven't you got notting you can sell?""i have nothing, i tell you--i have nothing," he cried, frantically."can't you borrow it, den? don't your store people trust you?"

then, as he shook his head, she went on:"listen to me--if you git me you vill be glad of it. i vill save your wife und baby for you, andit vill not seem like mooch to you in de end.if you loose dem now how you tink you feel den? und here is a lady dot knows her business--i could send you to people in dis block, und dey vould tell you--" madame haupt was pointing her cooking-forkat jurgis persuasively; but her words were more than he could bear.he flung up his hands with a gesture of

despair and turned and started away. "it's no use," he exclaimed--but suddenlyhe heard the woman's voice behind him again--"i vill make it five dollars for you." she followed behind him, arguing with him. "you vill be foolish not to take such anoffer," she said. "you von't find nobody go out on a rainyday like dis for less. vy, i haf never took a case in my life sosheap as dot. i couldn't pay mine room rent--"jurgis interrupted her with an oath of rage.

"if i haven't got it," he shouted, "how cani pay it? damn it, i would pay you if i could, but itell you i haven't got it. i haven't got it! do you hear me i haven't got it!"he turned and started away again. he was halfway down the stairs beforemadame haupt could shout to him: "vait! i vill go mit you! come back!"he went back into the room again. "it is not goot to tink of anybodysuffering," she said, in a melancholy voice.

"i might as vell go mit you for noffing asvot you offer me, but i vill try to help you.how far is it?" "three or four blocks from here." "tree or four!und so i shall get soaked! gott in himmel, it ought to be vorth more! vun dollar und a quarter, und a day likedis!--but you understand now--you vill pay me de rest of twenty-five dollars soon?""as soon as i can." "some time dis mont'?" "yes, within a month," said poor jurgis."anything!

hurry up!""vere is de dollar und a quarter?" persisted madame haupt, relentlessly. jurgis put the money on the table and thewoman counted it and stowed it away. then she wiped her greasy hands again andproceeded to get ready, complaining all the time; she was so fat that it was painfulfor her to move, and she grunted and gasped at every step. she took off her wrapper without eventaking the trouble to turn her back to jurgis, and put on her corsets and dress. then there was a black bonnet which had tobe adjusted carefully, and an umbrella

which was mislaid, and a bag full ofnecessaries which had to be collected from here and there--the man being nearly crazywith anxiety in the meantime. when they were on the street he kept aboutfour paces ahead of her, turning now and then, as if he could hurry her on by theforce of his desire. but madame haupt could only go so far at astep, and it took all her attention to get the needed breath for that.they came at last to the house, and to the group of frightened women in the kitchen. it was not over yet, jurgis learned--heheard ona crying still; and meantime madame haupt removed her bonnet and laid it on themantelpiece, and got out of her bag, first

an old dress and then a saucer of goose grease, which she proceeded to rub upon herhands. the more cases this goose grease is usedin, the better luck it brings to the midwife, and so she keeps it upon herkitchen mantelpiece or stowed away in a cupboard with her dirty clothes, formonths, and sometimes even for years. then they escorted her to the ladder, andjurgis heard her give an exclamation of dismay. "gott in himmel, vot for haf you brought meto a place like dis? i could not climb up dot ladder.i could not git troo a trap door!

i vill not try it--vy, i might kill myselfalready. vot sort of a place is dot for a woman tobear a child in--up in a garret, mit only a ladder to it? you ought to be ashamed of yourselves!"jurgis stood in the doorway and listened to her scolding, half drowning out thehorrible moans and screams of ona. at last aniele succeeded in pacifying her,and she essayed the ascent; then, however, she had to be stopped while the old womancautioned her about the floor of the garret. they had no real floor--they had laid oldboards in one part to make a place for the

family to live; it was all right and safethere, but the other part of the garret had only the joists of the floor, and the lath and plaster of the ceiling below, and ifone stepped on this there would be a catastrophe. as it was half dark up above, perhaps oneof the others had best go up first with a candle. then there were more outcries andthreatening, until at last jurgis had a vision of a pair of elephantine legsdisappearing through the trap door, and felt the house shake as madame hauptstarted to walk.

then suddenly aniele came to him and tookhim by the arm. "now," she said, "you go away. do as i tell you--you have done all youcan, and you are only in the way. go away and stay away.""but where shall i go?" jurgis asked, helplessly. "i don't know where," she answered."go on the street, if there is no other place--only go!and stay all night!" in the end she and marija pushed him out ofthe door and shut it behind him. it was just about sundown, and it wasturning cold--the rain had changed to snow,

and the slush was freezing. jurgis shivered in his thin clothing, andput his hands into his pockets and started away. he had not eaten since morning, and he feltweak and ill; with a sudden throb of hope he recollected he was only a few blocksfrom the saloon where he had been wont to eat his dinner. they might have mercy on him there, or hemight meet a friend. he set out for the place as fast as hecould walk. "hello, jack," said the saloon-keeper, whenhe entered--they call all foreigners and

unskilled men "jack" in packingtown."where've you been?" jurgis went straight to the bar. "i've been in jail," he said, "and i'vejust got out. i walked home all the way, and i've not acent, and had nothing to eat since this morning. and i've lost my home, and my wife's ill,and i'm done up." the saloon-keeper gazed at him, with hishaggard white face and his blue trembling lips. then he pushed a big bottle toward him."fill her up!" he said.

jurgis could hardly hold the bottle, hishands shook so. "don't be afraid," said the saloon-keeper,"fill her up!" so jurgis drank a large glass of whisky,and then turned to the lunch counter, in obedience to the other's suggestion. he ate all he dared, stuffing it in as fastas he could; and then, after trying to speak his gratitude, he went and sat downby the big red stove in the middle of the room. it was too good to last, however--like allthings in this hard world. his soaked clothing began to steam, and thehorrible stench of fertilizer to fill the

in an hour or so the packing houses wouldbe closing and the men coming in from their work; and they would not come into a placethat smelt of jurgis. also it was saturday night, and in a coupleof hours would come a violin and a cornet, and in the rear part of the saloon thefamilies of the neighborhood would dance and feast upon wienerwurst and lager, untiltwo or three o'clock in the morning. the saloon-keeper coughed once or twice,and then remarked, "say, jack, i'm afraid you'll have to quit." he was used to the sight of human wrecks,this saloon-keeper; he "fired" dozens of them every night, just as haggard and coldand forlorn as this one.

but they were all men who had given up andbeen counted out, while jurgis was still in the fight, and had reminders of decencyabout him. as he got up meekly, the other reflectedthat he had always been a steady man, and might soon be a good customer again."you've been up against it, i see," he "come this way."in the rear of the saloon were the cellar stairs. there was a door above and another below,both safely padlocked, making the stairs an admirable place to stow away a customer whomight still chance to have money, or a political light whom it was not advisableto kick out of doors.

so jurgis spent the night. the whisky had only half warmed him, and hecould not sleep, exhausted as he was; he would nod forward, and then start up,shivering with the cold, and begin to remember again. hour after hour passed, until he could onlypersuade himself that it was not morning by the sounds of music and laughter andsinging that were to be heard from the when at last these ceased, he expected thathe would be turned out into the street; as this did not happen, he fell to wonderingwhether the man had forgotten him. in the end, when the silence and suspensewere no longer to be borne, he got up and

hammered on the door; and the proprietorcame, yawning and rubbing his eyes. he was keeping open all night, and dozingbetween customers. "i want to go home," jurgis said."i'm worried about my wife--i can't wait any longer." "why the hell didn't you say so before?"said the man. "i thought you didn't have any home to goto." jurgis went outside. it was four o'clock in the morning, and asblack as night. there were three or four inches of freshsnow on the ground, and the flakes were

falling thick and fast. he turned toward aniele's and started at arun. there was a light burning in the kitchenwindow and the blinds were drawn. the door was unlocked and jurgis rushed in. aniele, marija, and the rest of the womenwere huddled about the stove, exactly as before; with them were several newcomers,jurgis noticed--also he noticed that the house was silent. "well?" he said.no one answered him, they sat staring at him with their pale faces.he cried again: "well?"

and then, by the light of the smoky lamp,he saw marija who sat nearest him, shaking her head slowly."not yet," she said. and jurgis gave a cry of dismay. "not yet?"again marija's head shook. the poor fellow stood dumfounded."i don't hear her," he gasped. "she's been quiet a long time," replied theother. there was another pause--broken suddenly bya voice from the attic: "hello, there!" several of the women ran into the nextroom, while marija sprang toward jurgis. "wait here!" she cried, and the two stood,pale and trembling, listening.

in a few moments it became clear thatmadame haupt was engaged in descending the ladder, scolding and exhorting again, whilethe ladder creaked in protest. in a moment or two she reached the ground,angry and breathless, and they heard her coming into the room.jurgis gave one glance at her, and then turned white and reeled. she had her jacket off, like one of theworkers on the killing beds. her hands and arms were smeared with blood,and blood was splashed upon her clothing and her face. she stood breathing hard, and gazing abouther; no one made a sound.

"i haf done my best," she began suddenly."i can do noffing more--dere is no use to try." again there was silence."it ain't my fault," she said. "you had ought to haf had a doctor, und notvaited so long--it vas too late already ven i come." once more there was deathlike stillness.marija was clutching jurgis with all the power of her one well arm.then suddenly madame haupt turned to aniele. "you haf not got something to drink, hey?"she queried.

"some brandy?"aniele shook her head. "herr gott!" exclaimed madame haupt. "such people!perhaps you vill give me someting to eat den--i haf had noffing since yesterdaymorning, und i haf vorked myself near to death here. if i could haf known it vas like dis, ivould never haf come for such money as you gif me." at this moment she chanced to look round,and saw jurgis: she shook her finger at him."you understand me," she said, "you pays me

dot money yust de same! it is not my fault dat you send for me solate i can't help your vife. it is not my fault if der baby comes mitone arm first, so dot i can't save it. i haf tried all night, und in dot placevere it is not fit for dogs to be born, und mit notting to eat only vot i brings inmine own pockets." here madame haupt paused for a moment toget her breath; and marija, seeing the beads of sweat on jurgis's forehead, andfeeling the quivering of his frame, broke out in a low voice: "how is ona?" "how is she?" echoed madame haupt."how do you tink she can be ven you leave

her to kill herself so?i told dem dot ven they send for de priest. she is young, und she might haf got overit, und been vell und strong, if she had been treated right.she fight hard, dot girl--she is not yet quite dead." and jurgis gave a frantic scream."dead!" "she vill die, of course," said the otherangrily. "der baby is dead now." the garret was lighted by a candle stuckupon a board; it had almost burned itself out, and was sputtering and smoking asjurgis rushed up the ladder.

he could make out dimly in one corner apallet of rags and old blankets, spread upon the floor; at the foot of it was acrucifix, and near it a priest muttering a prayer. in a far corner crouched elzbieta, moaningand wailing. upon the pallet lay ona. she was covered with a blanket, but hecould see her shoulders and one arm lying bare; she was so shrunken he would scarcelyhave known her--she was all but a skeleton, and as white as a piece of chalk. her eyelids were closed, and she lay stillas death.

he staggered toward her and fell upon hisknees with a cry of anguish: "ona! ona!" she did not stir. he caught her hand in his, and began toclasp it frantically, calling: "look at me! answer me!it is jurgis come back--don't you hear me?" there was the faintest quivering of theeyelids, and he called again in frenzy: "ona! ona!"then suddenly her eyes opened one instant. one instant she looked at him--there was aflash of recognition between them, he saw her afar off, as through a dim vista,standing forlorn. he stretched out his arms to her, he calledher in wild despair; a fearful yearning

surged up in him, hunger for her that wasagony, desire that was a new being born within him, tearing his heartstrings,torturing him. but it was all in vain--she faded from him,she slipped back and was gone. and a wail of anguish burst from him, greatsobs shook all his frame, and hot tears ran down his cheeks and fell upon her. he clutched her hands, he shook her, hecaught her in his arms and pressed her to him but she lay cold and still--she wasgone--she was gone! the word rang through him like the sound ofa bell, echoing in the far depths of him, making forgotten chords to vibrate, oldshadowy fears to stir--fears of the dark,

fears of the void, fears of annihilation. she was dead!she was dead! he would never see her again, never hearher again! an icy horror of loneliness seized him; hesaw himself standing apart and watching all the world fade away from him--a world ofshadows, of fickle dreams. he was like a little child, in his frightand grief; he called and called, and got no answer, and his cries of despair echoedthrough the house, making the women downstairs draw nearer to each other infear. he was inconsolable, beside himself--thepriest came and laid his hand upon his

shoulder and whispered to him, but he heardnot a sound. he was gone away himself, stumbling throughthe shadows, and groping after the soul that had fled.so he lay. the gray dawn came up and crept into theattic. the priest left, the women left, and he wasalone with the still, white figure--quieter now, but moaning and shuddering, wrestlingwith the grisly fiend. now and then he would raise himself andstare at the white mask before him, then hide his eyes because he could not bear it.dead! dead! and she was only a girl, she was barelyeighteen!

her life had hardly begun--and here she laymurdered--mangled, tortured to death! it was morning when he rose up and camedown into the kitchen--haggard and ashen gray, reeling and dazed. more of the neighbors had come in, and theystared at him in silence as he sank down upon a chair by the table and buried hisface in his arms. a few minutes later the front door opened;a blast of cold and snow rushed in, and behind it little kotrina, breathless fromrunning, and blue with the cold. "i'm home again!" she exclaimed. "i could hardly--"and then, seeing jurgis, she stopped with

an exclamation. looking from one to another she saw thatsomething had happened, and she asked, in a lower voice: "what's the matter?"before anyone could reply, jurgis started up; he went toward her, walking unsteadily. "where have you been?" he demanded."selling papers with the boys," she said. "the snow--""have you any money?" he demanded. "yes." "how much?""nearly three dollars, jurgis." "give it to me."kotrina, frightened by his manner, glanced

at the others. "give it to me!" he commanded again, andshe put her hand into her pocket and pulled out a lump of coins tied in a bit of rag.jurgis took it without a word, and went out of the door and down the street. three doors away was a saloon."whisky," he said, as he entered, and as the man pushed him some, he tore at the ragwith his teeth and pulled out half a dollar. "how much is the bottle?" he said."i want to get drunk." chapter 20

but a big man cannot stay drunk very longon three dollars. that was sunday morning, and monday nightjurgis came home, sober and sick, realizing that he had spent every cent the familyowned, and had not bought a single instant's forgetfulness with it. ona was not yet buried; but the police hadbeen notified, and on the morrow they would put the body in a pine coffin and take itto the potter's field. elzbieta was out begging now, a few penniesfrom each of the neighbors, to get enough to pay for a mass for her; and the childrenwere upstairs starving to death, while he, good-for-nothing rascal, had been spendingtheir money on drink.

so spoke aniele, scornfully, and when hestarted toward the fire she added the information that her kitchen was no longerfor him to fill with his phosphate stinks. she had crowded all her boarders into oneroom on ona's account, but now he could go up in the garret where he belonged--and notthere much longer, either, if he did not pay her some rent. jurgis went without a word, and, steppingover half a dozen sleeping boarders in the next room, ascended the ladder. it was dark up above; they could not affordany light; also it was nearly as cold as outdoors.

in a corner, as far away from the corpse aspossible, sat marija, holding little antanas in her one good arm and trying tosoothe him to sleep. in another corner crouched poor littlejuozapas, wailing because he had had nothing to eat all day. marija said not a word to jurgis; he creptin like a whipped cur, and went and sat down by the body. perhaps he ought to have meditated upon thehunger of the children, and upon his own baseness; but he thought only of ona, hegave himself up again to the luxury of grief.

he shed no tears, being ashamed to make asound; he sat motionless and shuddering with his anguish. he had never dreamed how much he loved ona,until now that she was gone; until now that he sat here, knowing that on the morrowthey would take her away, and that he would never lay eyes upon her again--never allthe days of his life. his old love, which had been starved todeath, beaten to death, awoke in him again; the floodgates of memory were lifted--hesaw all their life together, saw her as he had seen her in lithuania, the first day at the fair, beautiful as the flowers, singinglike a bird.

he saw her as he had married her, with allher tenderness, with her heart of wonder; the very words she had spoken seemed toring now in his ears, the tears she had shed to be wet upon his cheek. the long, cruel battle with misery andhunger had hardened and embittered him, but it had not changed her--she had been thesame hungry soul to the end, stretching out her arms to him, pleading with him, begginghim for love and tenderness. and she had suffered--so cruelly she hadsuffered, such agonies, such infamies--ah, god, the memory of them was not to beborne. what a monster of wickedness, ofheartlessness, he had been!

every angry word that he had ever spokencame back to him and cut him like a knife; every selfish act that he had done--withwhat torments he paid for them now! and such devotion and awe as welled up inhis soul--now that it could never be spoken, now that it was too late, too late! his bosom-was choking with it, burstingwith it; he crouched here in the darkness beside her, stretching out his arms to her--and she was gone forever, she was dead! he could have screamed aloud with thehorror and despair of it; a sweat of agony beaded his forehead, yet he dared not makea sound--he scarcely dared to breathe, because of his shame and loathing ofhimself.

late at night came elzbieta, having gottenthe money for a mass, and paid for it in advance, lest she should be tempted toosorely at home. she brought also a bit of stale rye breadthat some one had given her, and with that they quieted the children and got them tosleep. then she came over to jurgis and sat downbeside him. she said not a word of reproach--she andmarija had chosen that course before; she would only plead with him, here by thecorpse of his dead wife. already elzbieta had choked down her tears,grief being crowded out of her soul by fear.

she had to bury one of her children--butthen she had done it three times before, and each time risen up and gone back totake up the battle for the rest. elzbieta was one of the primitivecreatures: like the angleworm, which goes on living though cut in half; like a hen,which, deprived of her chickens one by one, will mother the last that is left her. she did this because it was her nature--sheasked no questions about the justice of it, nor the worth-whileness of life in whichdestruction and death ran riot. and this old common-sense view she laboredto impress upon jurgis, pleading with him with tears in her eyes.ona was dead, but the others were left and

they must be saved. she did not ask for her own children.she and marija could care for them somehow, but there was antanas, his own son. ona had given antanas to him--the littlefellow was the only remembrance of her that he had; he must treasure it and protect it,he must show himself a man. he knew what ona would have had him do,what she would ask of him at this moment, if she could speak to him. it was a terrible thing that she shouldhave died as she had; but the life had been too hard for her, and she had to go.

it was terrible that they were not able tobury her, that he could not even have a day to mourn her--but so it was. their fate was pressing; they had not acent, and the children would perish--some money must be had.could he not be a man for ona's sake, and pull himself together? in a little while they would be out ofdanger--now that they had given up the house they could live more cheaply, andwith all the children working they could get along, if only he would not go topieces. so elzbieta went on, with feverishintensity.

it was a struggle for life with her; shewas not afraid that jurgis would go on drinking, for he had no money for that, butshe was wild with dread at the thought that he might desert them, might take to theroad, as jonas had done. but with ona's dead body beneath his eyes,jurgis could not well think of treason to his child. yes, he said, he would try, for the sake ofantanas. he would give the little fellow his chance--would get to work at once, yes, tomorrow, without even waiting for ona to be buried. they might trust him, he would keep hisword, come what might.

and so he was out before daylight the nextmorning, headache, heartache, and all. he went straight to graham's fertilizermill, to see if he could get back his job. but the boss shook his head when he sawhim--no, his place had been filled long ago, and there was no room for him. "do you think there will be?"jurgis asked. "i may have to wait." "no," said the other, "it will not be worthyour while to wait--there will be nothing for you here."jurgis stood gazing at him in perplexity. "what is the matter?" he asked.

"didn't i do my work?"the other met his look with one of cold indifference, and answered, "there will benothing for you here, i said." jurgis had his suspicions as to thedreadful meaning of that incident, and he went away with a sinking at the heart. he went and took his stand with the mob ofhungry wretches who were standing about in the snow before the time station. here he stayed, breakfastless, for twohours, until the throng was driven away by the clubs of the police.there was no work for him that day. jurgis had made a good many acquaintancesin his long services at the yards--there

were saloon-keepers who would trust him fora drink and a sandwich, and members of his old union who would lend him a dime at apinch. it was not a question of life and death forhim, therefore; he might hunt all day, and come again on the morrow, and try hangingon thus for weeks, like hundreds and thousands of others. meantime, teta elzbieta would go and beg,over in the hyde park district, and the children would bring home enough to pacifyaniele, and keep them all alive. it was at the end of a week of this sort ofwaiting, roaming about in the bitter winds or loafing in saloons, that jurgis stumbledon a chance in one of the cellars of

jones's big packing plant. he saw a foreman passing the open doorway,and hailed him for a job. "push a truck?" inquired the man, andjurgis answered, "yes, sir!" before the words were well out of his mouth. "what's your name?" demanded the other."jurgis rudkus." "worked in the yards before?""yes." "whereabouts?" "two places--brown's killing beds anddurham's fertilizer mill." "why did you leave there?""the first time i had an accident, and the

last time i was sent up for a month." "i see.well, i'll give you a trial. come early tomorrow and ask for mr.thomas." so jurgis rushed home with the wild tidingsthat he had a job--that the terrible siege was over. the remnants of the family had quite acelebration that night; and in the morning jurgis was at the place half an hour beforethe time of opening. the foreman came in shortly afterward, andwhen he saw jurgis he frowned. "oh," he said, "i promised you a job,didn't i?"

"yes, sir," said jurgis. "well, i'm sorry, but i made a mistake.i can't use you." jurgis stared, dumfounded."what's the matter?" he gasped. "nothing," said the man, "only i can't useyou." there was the same cold, hostile stare thathe had had from the boss of the fertilizer mill. he knew that there was no use in saying aword, and he turned and went away. out in the saloons the men could tell himall about the meaning of it; they gazed at him with pitying eyes--poor devil, he wasblacklisted!

what had he done? they asked--knocked downhis boss? good heavens, then he might have known! why, he stood as much chance of getting ajob in packingtown as of being chosen mayor of chicago.why had he wasted his time hunting? they had him on a secret list in everyoffice, big and little, in the place. they had his name by this time in st. louisand new york, in omaha and boston, in kansas city and st. joseph. he was condemned and sentenced, withouttrial and without appeal; he could never work for the packers again--he could noteven clean cattle pens or drive a truck in

any place where they controlled. he might try it, if he chose, as hundredshad tried it, and found out for themselves. he would never be told anything about it;he would never get any more satisfaction than he had gotten just now; but he wouldalways find when the time came that he was not needed. it would not do for him to give any othername, either--they had company "spotters" for just that purpose, and he wouldn't keepa job in packingtown three days. it was worth a fortune to the packers tokeep their blacklist effective, as a warning to the men and a means of keepingdown union agitation and political

discontent. jurgis went home, carrying these newtidings to the family council. it was a most cruel thing; here in thisdistrict was his home, such as it was, the place he was used to and the friends heknew--and now every possibility of employment in it was closed to him. there was nothing in packingtown butpacking houses; and so it was the same thing as evicting him from his home.he and the two women spent all day and half the night discussing it. it would be convenient, downtown, to thechildren's place of work; but then marija

was on the road to recovery, and had hopesof getting a job in the yards; and though she did not see her old-time lover once a month, because of the misery of theirstate, yet she could not make up her mind to go away and give him up forever. then, too, elzbieta had heard somethingabout a chance to scrub floors in durham's offices and was waiting every day for word. in the end it was decided that jurgisshould go downtown to strike out for himself, and they would decide after he gota job. as there was no one from whom he couldborrow there, and he dared not beg for fear

of being arrested, it was arranged thatevery day he should meet one of the children and be given fifteen cents of their earnings, upon which he could keepgoing. then all day he was to pace the streetswith hundreds and thousands of other homeless wretches inquiring at stores,warehouses, and factories for a chance; and at night he was to crawl into some doorway or underneath a truck, and hide there untilmidnight, when he might get into one of the station houses, and spread a newspaper uponthe floor, and lie down in the midst of a throng of "bums" and beggars, reeking with

alcohol and tobacco, and filthy with verminand disease. so for two weeks more jurgis fought withthe demon of despair. once he got a chance to load a truck forhalf a day, and again he carried an old woman's valise and was given a quarter. this let him into a lodging-house onseveral nights when he might otherwise have frozen to death; and it also gave him achance now and then to buy a newspaper in the morning and hunt up jobs while his rivals were watching and waiting for apaper to be thrown away. this, however, was really not the advantageit seemed, for the newspaper advertisements

were a cause of much loss of precious timeand of many weary journeys. a full half of these were "fakes," put inby the endless variety of establishments which preyed upon the helpless ignorance ofthe unemployed. if jurgis lost only his time, it wasbecause he had nothing else to lose; whenever a smooth-tongued agent would tellhim of the wonderful positions he had on hand, he could only shake his head sorrowfully and say that he had not thenecessary dollar to deposit; when it was explained to him what "big money" he andall his family could make by coloring photographs, he could only promise to come

in again when he had two dollars to investin the outfit. in the end jurgis got a chance through anaccidental meeting with an old-time acquaintance of his union days. he met this man on his way to work in thegiant factories of the harvester trust; and his friend told him to come along and hewould speak a good word for him to his boss, whom he knew well. so jurgis trudged four or five miles, andpassed through a waiting throng of unemployed at the gate under the escort ofhis friend. his knees nearly gave way beneath him whenthe foreman, after looking him over and

questioning him, told him that he couldfind an opening for him. how much this accident meant to jurgis herealized only by stages; for he found that the harvester works were the sort of placeto which philanthropists and reformers pointed with pride. it had some thought for its employees; itsworkshops were big and roomy, it provided a restaurant where the workmen could buy goodfood at cost, it had even a reading room, and decent places where its girl-hands could rest; also the work was free frommany of the elements of filth and repulsiveness that prevailed at thestockyards.

day after day jurgis discovered thesethings--things never expected nor dreamed of by him--until this new place came toseem a kind of a heaven to him. it was an enormous establishment, coveringa hundred and sixty acres of ground, employing five thousand people, and turningout over three hundred thousand machines every year--a good part of all the harvesting and mowing machines used in thecountry. jurgis saw very little of it, of course--itwas all specialized work, the same as at the stockyards; each one of the hundreds ofparts of a mowing machine was made separately, and sometimes handled byhundreds of men.

where jurgis worked there was a machinewhich cut and stamped a certain piece of steel about two square inches in size; thepieces came tumbling out upon a tray, and all that human hands had to do was to pile them in regular rows, and change the traysat intervals. this was done by a single boy, who stoodwith eyes and thought centered upon it, and fingers flying so fast that the sounds ofthe bits of steel striking upon each other was like the music of an express train asone hears it in a sleeping car at night. this was "piece-work," of course; andbesides it was made certain that the boy did not idle, by setting the machine tomatch the highest possible speed of human

hands. thirty thousand of these pieces he handledevery day, nine or ten million every year-- how many in a lifetime it rested with thegods to say. near by him men sat bending over whirlinggrindstones, putting the finishing touches to the steel knives of the reaper; pickingthem out of a basket with the right hand, pressing first one side and then the other against the stone and finally dropping themwith the left hand into another basket. one of these men told jurgis that he hadsharpened three thousand pieces of steel a day for thirteen years.

in the next room were wonderful machinesthat ate up long steel rods by slow stages, cutting them off, seizing the pieces,stamping heads upon them, grinding them and polishing them, threading them, and finally dropping them into a basket, all ready tobolt the harvesters together. from yet another machine came tens ofthousands of steel burs to fit upon these bolts. in other places all these various partswere dipped into troughs of paint and hung up to dry, and then slid along on trolleysto a room where men streaked them with red and yellow, so that they might lookcheerful in the harvest fields.

jurgis's friend worked upstairs in thecasting rooms, and his task was to make the molds of a certain part. he shoveled black sand into an ironreceptacle and pounded it tight and set it aside to harden; then it would be takenout, and molten iron poured into it. this man, too, was paid by the mold--orrather for perfect castings, nearly half his work going for naught. you might see him, along with dozens ofothers, toiling like one possessed by a whole community of demons; his arms workinglike the driving rods of an engine, his long, black hair flying wild, his eyes

starting out, the sweat rolling in riversdown his face. when he had shoveled the mold full of sand,and reached for the pounder to pound it with, it was after the manner of a canoeistrunning rapids and seizing a pole at sight of a submerged rock. all day long this man would toil thus, hiswhole being centered upon the purpose of making twenty-three instead of twenty-twoand a half cents an hour; and then his product would be reckoned up by the census taker, and jubilant captains of industrywould boast of it in their banquet halls, telling how our workers are nearly twice asefficient as those of any other country.

if we are the greatest nation the sun evershone upon, it would seem to be mainly because we have been able to goad our wage-earners to this pitch of frenzy; though there are a few other things that are great among us including our drink-bill, which isa billion and a quarter of dollars a year, and doubling itself every decade. there was a machine which stamped out theiron plates, and then another which, with a mighty thud, mashed them to the shape ofthe sitting-down portion of the american farmer. then they were piled upon a truck, and itwas jurgis's task to wheel them to the room

where the machines were "assembled." this was child's play for him, and he got adollar and seventy-five cents a day for it; on saturday he paid aniele the seventy-fivecents a week he owed her for the use of her garret, and also redeemed his overcoat, which elzbieta had put in pawn when he wasin jail. this last was a great blessing. a man cannot go about in midwinter inchicago with no overcoat and not pay for it, and jurgis had to walk or ride five orsix miles back and forth to his work. it so happened that half of this was in onedirection and half in another,

necessitating a change of cars; the lawrequired that transfers be given at all intersecting points, but the railway corporation had gotten round this byarranging a pretense at separate ownership. so whenever he wished to ride, he had topay ten cents each way, or over ten per cent of his income to this power, which hadgotten its franchises long ago by buying up the city council, in the face of popularclamor amounting almost to a rebellion. tired as he felt at night, and dark andbitter cold as it was in the morning, jurgis generally chose to walk; at thehours other workmen were traveling, the streetcar monopoly saw fit to put on so few

cars that there would be men hanging toevery foot of the backs of them and often crouching upon the snow-covered roof. of course the doors could never be closed,and so the cars were as cold as outdoors; jurgis, like many others, found it betterto spend his fare for a drink and a free lunch, to give him strength to walk. these, however, were all slight matters toa man who had escaped from durham's fertilizer mill.jurgis began to pick up heart again and to make plans. he had lost his house but then the awfulload of the rent and interest was off his

shoulders, and when marija was well againthey could start over and save. in the shop where he worked was a man, alithuanian like himself, whom the others spoke of in admiring whispers, because ofthe mighty feats he was performing. all day he sat at a machine turning bolts;and then in the evening he went to the public school to study english and learn toread. in addition, because he had a family ofeight children to support and his earnings were not enough, on saturdays and sundayshe served as a watchman; he was required to press two buttons at opposite ends of a building every five minutes, and as thewalk only took him two minutes, he had

three minutes to study between each trip. jurgis felt jealous of this fellow; forthat was the sort of thing he himself had dreamed of, two or three years ago. he might do it even yet, if he had a fairchance--he might attract attention and become a skilled man or a boss, as some haddone in this place. suppose that marija could get a job in thebig mill where they made binder twine--then they would move into this neighborhood, andhe would really have a chance. with a hope like that, there was some usein living; to find a place where you were treated like a human being--by god! hewould show them how he could appreciate it.

he laughed to himself as he thought how hewould hang on to this job! and then one afternoon, the ninth of hiswork in the place, when he went to get his overcoat he saw a group of men crowdedbefore a placard on the door, and when he went over and asked what it was, they told him that beginning with the morrow hisdepartment of the harvester works would be closed until further notice! chapter 21 that was the way they did it!there was not half an hour's warning--the works were closed!it had happened that way before, said the

men, and it would happen that way forever. they had made all the harvesting machinesthat the world needed, and now they had to wait till some wore out! it was nobody's fault--that was the way ofit; and thousands of men and women were turned out in the dead of winter, to liveupon their savings if they had any, and otherwise to die. so many tens of thousands already in thecity, homeless and begging for work, and now several thousand more added to them!jurgis walked home-with his pittance of pay in his pocket, heartbroken, overwhelmed.

one more bandage had been torn from hiseyes, one more pitfall was revealed to him! of what help was kindness and decency onthe part of employers--when they could not keep a job for him, when there were moreharvesting machines made than the world was able to buy! what a hellish mockery it was, anyway, thata man should slave to make harvesting machines for the country, only to be turnedout to starve for doing his duty too well! it took him two days to get over thisheart-sickening disappointment. he did not drink anything, because elzbietagot his money for safekeeping, and knew him too well to be in the least frightened byhis angry demands.

he stayed up in the garret however, andsulked--what was the use of a man's hunting a job when it was taken from him before hehad time to learn the work? but then their money was going again, andlittle antanas was hungry, and crying with the bitter cold of the garret.also madame haupt, the midwife, was after him for some money. so he went out once more.for another ten days he roamed the streets and alleys of the huge city, sick andhungry, begging for any work. he tried in stores and offices, inrestaurants and hotels, along the docks and in the railroad yards, in warehouses andmills and factories where they made

products that went to every corner of theworld. there were often one or two chances--butthere were always a hundred men for every chance, and his turn would not come. at night he crept into sheds and cellarsand doorways--until there came a spell of belated winter weather, with a raging gale,and the thermometer five degrees below zero at sundown and falling all night. then jurgis fought like a wild beast to getinto the big harrison street police station, and slept down in a corridor,crowded with two other men upon a single step.

he had to fight often in these days tofight for a place near the factory gates, and now and again with gangs on the street. he found, for instance, that the businessof carrying satchels for railroad passengers was a pre-empted one--wheneverhe essayed it, eight or ten men and boys would fall upon him and force him to runfor his life. they always had the policeman "squared,"and so there was no use in expecting protection. that jurgis did not starve to death was duesolely to the pittance the children brought him.and even this was never certain.

for one thing the cold was almost more thanthe children could bear; and then they, too, were in perpetual peril from rivalswho plundered and beat them. the law was against them, too--littlevilimas, who was really eleven, but did not look to be eight, was stopped on thestreets by a severe old lady in spectacles, who told him that he was too young to be working and that if he did not stop sellingpapers she would send a truant officer after him. also one night a strange man caught littlekotrina by the arm and tried to persuade her into a dark cellar-way, an experiencewhich filled her with such terror that she

was hardly to be kept at work. at last, on a sunday, as there was no uselooking for work, jurgis went home by stealing rides on the cars. he found that they had been waiting for himfor three days--there was a chance of a job for him.it was quite a story. little juozapas, who was near crazy withhunger these days, had gone out on the street to beg for himself. juozapas had only one leg, having been runover by a wagon when a little child, but he had got himself a broomstick, which he putunder his arm for a crutch.

he had fallen in with some other childrenand found the way to mike scully's dump, which lay three or four blocks away. to this place there came every day manyhundreds of wagon-loads of garbage and trash from the lake front, where the richpeople lived; and in the heaps the children raked for food--there were hunks of bread and potato peelings and apple cores andmeat bones, all of it half frozen and quite unspoiled. little juozapas gorged himself, and camehome with a newspaper full, which he was feeding to antanas when his mother came in.

elzbieta was horrified, for she did notbelieve that the food out of the dumps was fit to eat. the next day, however, when no harm came ofit and juozapas began to cry with hunger, she gave in and said that he might goagain. and that afternoon he came home with astory of how while he had been digging away with a stick, a lady upon the street hadcalled him. a real fine lady, the little boy explained,a beautiful lady; and she wanted to know all about him, and whether he got thegarbage for chickens, and why he walked with a broomstick, and why ona had died,

and how jurgis had come to go to jail, andwhat was the matter with marija, and everything. in the end she had asked where he lived,and said that she was coming to see him, and bring him a new crutch to walk with. she had on a hat with a bird upon it,juozapas added, and a long fur snake around her neck. she really came, the very next morning, andclimbed the ladder to the garret, and stood and stared about her, turning pale at thesight of the blood stains on the floor where ona had died.

she was a "settlement worker," sheexplained to elzbieta--she lived around on ashland avenue. elzbieta knew the place, over a feed store;somebody had wanted her to go there, but she had not cared to, for she thought thatit must have something to do with religion, and the priest did not like her to haveanything to do with strange religions. they were rich people who came to livethere to find out about the poor people; but what good they expected it would dothem to know, one could not imagine. so spoke elzbieta, naively, and the younglady laughed and was rather at a loss for an answer--she stood and gazed about her,and thought of a cynical remark that had

been made to her, that she was standing upon the brink of the pit of hell andthrowing in snowballs to lower the temperature. elzbieta was glad to have somebody tolisten, and she told all their woes--what had happened to ona, and the jail, and theloss of their home, and marija's accident, and how ona had died, and how jurgis couldget no work. as she listened the pretty young lady'seyes filled with tears, and in the midst of it she burst into weeping and hid her faceon elzbieta's shoulder, quite regardless of the fact that the woman had on a dirty old

wrapper and that the garret was full offleas. poor elzbieta was ashamed of herself forhaving told so woeful a tale, and the other had to beg and plead with her to get her togo on. the end of it was that the young lady sentthem a basket of things to eat, and left a letter that jurgis was to take to agentleman who was superintendent in one of the mills of the great steelworks in southchicago. "he will get jurgis something to do," theyoung lady had said, and added, smiling through her tears--"if he doesn't, he willnever marry me." the steel-works were fifteen miles away,and as usual it was so contrived that one

had to pay two fares to get there. far and wide the sky was flaring with thered glare that leaped from rows of towering chimneys--for it was pitch dark when jurgisarrived. the vast works, a city in themselves, weresurrounded by a stockade; and already a full hundred men were waiting at the gatewhere new hands were taken on. soon after daybreak whistles began to blow,and then suddenly thousands of men appeared, streaming from saloons andboardinghouses across the way, leaping from trolley cars that passed--it seemed as if they rose out of the ground, in the dimgray light.

a river of them poured in through the gate--and then gradually ebbed away again, until there were only a few late ones running,and the watchman pacing up and down, and the hungry strangers stamping andshivering. jurgis presented his precious letter. the gatekeeper was surly, and put himthrough a catechism, but he insisted that he knew nothing, and as he had taken theprecaution to seal his letter, there was nothing for the gatekeeper to do but sendit to the person to whom it was addressed. a messenger came back to say that jurgisshould wait, and so he came inside of the gate, perhaps not sorry enough that therewere others less fortunate watching him

with greedy eyes. the great mills were getting under way--onecould hear a vast stirring, a rolling and rumbling and hammering. little by little the scene grew plain:towering, black buildings here and there, long rows of shops and sheds, littlerailways branching everywhere, bare gray cinders underfoot and oceans of billowingblack smoke above. on one side of the grounds ran a railroadwith a dozen tracks, and on the other side lay the lake, where steamers came to load. jurgis had time enough to stare andspeculate, for it was two hours before he

was summoned.he went into the office building, where a company timekeeper interviewed him. the superintendent was busy, he said, buthe (the timekeeper) would try to find jurgis a job.he had never worked in a steel mill before? but he was ready for anything? well, then, they would go and see.so they began a tour, among sights that made jurgis stare amazed. he wondered if ever he could get used toworking in a place like this, where the air shook with deafening thunder, and whistlesshrieked warnings on all sides of him at

once; where miniature steam engines came rushing upon him, and sizzling, quivering,white-hot masses of metal sped past him, and explosions of fire and flaming sparksdazzled him and scorched his face. the men in these mills were all black withsoot, and hollow-eyed and gaunt; they worked with fierce intensity, rushing hereand there, and never lifting their eyes from their tasks. jurgis clung to his guide like a scaredchild to its nurse, and while the latter hailed one foreman after another to ask ifthey could use another unskilled man, he stared about him and marveled.

he was taken to the bessemer furnace, wherethey made billets of steel--a dome-like building, the size of a big theater. jurgis stood where the balcony of thetheater would have been, and opposite, by the stage, he saw three giant caldrons, bigenough for all the devils of hell to brew their broth in, full of something white and blinding, bubbling and splashing, roaringas if volcanoes were blowing through it-- one had to shout to be heard in the place. liquid fire would leap from these caldronsand scatter like bombs below--and men were working there, seeming careless, so thatjurgis caught his breath with fright.

then a whistle would toot, and across thecurtain of the theater would come a little engine with a carload of something to bedumped into one of the receptacles; and then another whistle would toot, down by the stage, and another train would back up--and suddenly, without an instant's warning, one of the giant kettles began totilt and topple, flinging out a jet of hissing, roaring flame. jurgis shrank back appalled, for he thoughtit was an accident; there fell a pillar of white flame, dazzling as the sun, swishinglike a huge tree falling in the forest. a torrent of sparks swept all the wayacross the building, overwhelming

everything, hiding it from sight; and thenjurgis looked through the fingers of his hands, and saw pouring out of the caldron a cascade of living, leaping fire, white witha whiteness not of earth, scorching the eyeballs. incandescent rainbows shone above it, blue,red, and golden lights played about it; but the stream itself was white, ineffable. out of regions of wonder it streamed, thevery river of life; and the soul leaped up at the sight of it, fled back upon it,swift and resistless, back into far-off lands, where beauty and terror dwell.

then the great caldron tilted back again,empty, and jurgis saw to his relief that no one was hurt, and turned and followed hisguide out into the sunlight. they went through the blast furnaces,through rolling mills where bars of steel were tossed about and chopped like bits ofcheese. all around and above giant machine armswere flying, giant wheels were turning, great hammers crashing; traveling cranescreaked and groaned overhead, reaching down iron hands and seizing iron prey--it was like standing in the center of the earth,where the machinery of time was revolving. by and by they came to the place wheresteel rails were made; and jurgis heard a

toot behind him, and jumped out of the wayof a car with a white-hot ingot upon it, the size of a man's body. there was a sudden crash and the car cameto a halt, and the ingot toppled out upon a moving platform, where steel fingers andarms seized hold of it, punching it and prodding it into place, and hurrying itinto the grip of huge rollers. then it came out upon the other side, andthere were more crashings and clatterings, and over it was flopped, like a pancake ona gridiron, and seized again and rushed back at you through another squeezer. so amid deafening uproar it clattered toand fro, growing thinner and flatter and

longer. the ingot seemed almost a living thing; itdid not want to run this mad course, but it was in the grip of fate, it was tumbled on,screeching and clanking and shivering in protest. by and by it was long and thin, a great redsnake escaped from purgatory; and then, as it slid through the rollers, you would havesworn that it was alive--it writhed and squirmed, and wriggles and shudders passed out through its tail, all but flinging itoff by their violence. there was no rest for it until it was coldand black--and then it needed only to be

cut and straightened to be ready for arailroad. it was at the end of this rail's progressthat jurgis got his chance. they had to be moved by men with crowbars,and the boss here could use another man. so he took off his coat and set to work onthe spot. it took him two hours to get to this placeevery day and cost him a dollar and twenty cents a week. as this was out of the question, he wrappedhis bedding in a bundle and took it with him, and one of his fellow workingmenintroduced him to a polish lodging-house, where he might have the privilege of

sleeping upon the floor for ten cents anight. he got his meals at free-lunch counters,and every saturday night he went home-- bedding and all--and took the greater partof his money to the family. elzbieta was sorry for this arrangement,for she feared that it would get him into the habit of living without them, and oncea week was not very often for him to see his baby; but there was no other way ofarranging it. there was no chance for a woman at thesteelworks, and marija was now ready for work again, and lured on from day to day bythe hope of finding it at the yards. in a week jurgis got over his sense ofhelplessness and bewilderment in the rail

he learned to find his way about and totake all the miracles and terrors for granted, to work without hearing therumbling and crashing. from blind fear he went to the otherextreme; he became reckless and indifferent, like all the rest of the men,who took but little thought of themselves in the ardor of their work. it was wonderful, when one came to think ofit, that these men should have taken an interest in the work they did--they had noshare in it--they were paid by the hour, and paid no more for being interested. also they knew that if they were hurt theywould be flung aside and forgotten--and

still they would hurry to their task bydangerous short cuts, would use methods that were quicker and more effective in spite of the fact that they were alsorisky. his fourth day at his work jurgis saw a manstumble while running in front of a car, and have his foot mashed off, and before hehad been there three weeks he was witness of a yet more dreadful accident. there was a row of brick furnaces, shiningwhite through every crack with the molten steel inside. some of these were bulging dangerously, yetmen worked before them, wearing blue

glasses when they opened and shut thedoors. one morning as jurgis was passing, afurnace blew out, spraying two men with a shower of liquid fire. as they lay screaming and rolling upon theground in agony, jurgis rushed to help them, and as a result he lost a good partof the skin from the inside of one of his the company doctor bandaged it up, but hegot no other thanks from any one, and was laid up for eight working days without anypay. most fortunately, at this juncture,elzbieta got the long-awaited chance to go at five o'clock in the morning and helpscrub the office floors of one of the

packers. jurgis came home and covered himself withblankets to keep warm, and divided his time between sleeping and playing with littleantanas. juozapas was away raking in the dump a goodpart of the time, and elzbieta and marija were hunting for more work.antanas was now over a year and a half old, and was a perfect talking machine. he learned so fast that every week whenjurgis came home it seemed to him as if he had a new child. he would sit down and listen and stare athim, and give vent to delighted

exclamations--"palauk!muma! tu mano szirdele!" the little fellow was now really the onedelight that jurgis had in the world--his one hope, his one victory.thank god, antanas was a boy! and he was as tough as a pine knot, andwith the appetite of a wolf. nothing had hurt him, and nothing couldhurt him; he had come through all the suffering and deprivation unscathed--onlyshriller-voiced and more determined in his grip upon life. he was a terrible child to manage, wasantanas, but his father did not mind that--

he would watch him and smile to himselfwith satisfaction. the more of a fighter he was the better--hewould need to fight before he got through. jurgis had got the habit of buying thesunday paper whenever he had the money; a most wonderful paper could be had for onlyfive cents, a whole armful, with all the news of the world set forth in big headlines, that jurgis could spell outslowly, with the children to help him at the long words. there was battle and murder and suddendeath--it was marvelous how they ever heard about so many entertaining and thrillinghappenings; the stories must be all true,

for surely no man could have made such things up, and besides, there were picturesof them all, as real as life. one of these papers was as good as acircus, and nearly as good as a spree-- certainly a most wonderful treat for aworkingman, who was tired out and stupefied, and had never had any education, and whose work was one dull, sordid grind,day after day, and year after year, with never a sight of a green field nor anhour's entertainment, nor anything but liquor to stimulate his imagination. among other things, these papers had pagesfull of comical pictures, and these were

the main joy in life to little antanas. he treasured them up, and would drag themout and make his father tell him about them; there were all sorts of animals amongthem, and antanas could tell the names of all of them, lying upon the floor for hours and pointing them out with his chubbylittle fingers. whenever the story was plain enough forjurgis to make out, antanas would have it repeated to him, and then he would rememberit, prattling funny little sentences and mixing it up with other stories in anirresistible fashion. also his quaint pronunciation of words wassuch a delight--and the phrases he would

pick up and remember, the most outlandishand impossible things! the first time that the little rascal burstout with "god damn," his father nearly rolled off the chair with glee; but in theend he was sorry for this, for antanas was soon "god-damning" everything andeverybody. and then, when he was able to use hishands, jurgis took his bedding again and went back to his task of shifting rails. it was now april, and the snow had givenplace to cold rains, and the unpaved street in front of aniele's house was turned intoa canal. jurgis would have to wade through it to gethome, and if it was late he might easily

get stuck to his waist in the mire.but he did not mind this much--it was a promise that summer was coming. marija had now gotten a place as beef-trimmer in one of the smaller packing plants; and he told himself that he hadlearned his lesson now, and would meet with no more accidents--so that at last therewas prospect of an end to their long agony. they could save money again, and whenanother winter came they would have a comfortable place; and the children wouldbe off the streets and in school again, and they might set to work to nurse back intolife their habits of decency and kindness. so once more jurgis began to make plans anddream dreams.

and then one saturday night he jumped offthe car and started home, with the sun shining low under the edge of a bank ofclouds that had been pouring floods of water into the mud-soaked street. there was a rainbow in the sky, and anotherin his breast--for he had thirty-six hours' rest before him, and a chance to see hisfamily. then suddenly he came in sight of thehouse, and noticed that there was a crowd before the door. he ran up the steps and pushed his way in,and saw aniele's kitchen crowded with excited women.

it reminded him so vividly of the time whenhe had come home from jail and found ona dying, that his heart almost stood still."what's the matter?" he cried. a dead silence had fallen in the room, andhe saw that every one was staring at him. "what's the matter?" he exclaimed again.and then, up in the garret, he heard sounds of wailing, in marija's voice. he started for the ladder--and anieleseized him by the arm. "no, no!" she exclaimed."don't go up there!" "what is it?" he shouted. and the old woman answered him weakly:"it's antanas.

he's dead.he was drowned out in the street!" chapter 22 jurgis took the news in a peculiar way.he turned deadly pale, but he caught himself, and for half a minute stood in themiddle of the room, clenching his hands tightly and setting his teeth. then he pushed aniele aside and strode intothe next room and climbed the ladder. in the corner was a blanket, with a formhalf showing beneath it; and beside it lay elzbieta, whether crying or in a faint,jurgis could not tell. marija was pacing the room, screaming andwringing her hands.

he clenched his hands tighter yet, and hisvoice was hard as he spoke. "how did it happen?" he asked. marija scarcely heard him in her agony.he repeated the question, louder and yet more harshly."he fell off the sidewalk!" she wailed. the sidewalk in front of the house was aplatform made of half-rotten boards, about five feet above the level of the sunkenstreet. "how did he come to be there?" he demanded. "he went--he went out to play," marijasobbed, her voice choking her. "we couldn't make him stay in.he must have got caught in the mud!"

"are you sure that he is dead?" hedemanded. "ai! ai!" she wailed."yes; we had the doctor." then jurgis stood a few seconds, wavering. he did not shed a tear.he took one glance more at the blanket with the little form beneath it, and then turnedsuddenly to the ladder and climbed down again. a silence fell once more in the room as heentered. he went straight to the door, passed out,and started down the street. when his wife had died, jurgis made for thenearest saloon, but he did not do that now,

though he had his week's wages in hispocket. he walked and walked, seeing nothing,splashing through mud and water. later on he sat down upon a step and hidhis face in his hands and for half an hour or so he did not move. now and then he would whisper to himself:"dead! dead!"finally, he got up and walked on again. it was about sunset, and he went on and onuntil it was dark, when he was stopped by a railroad crossing.the gates were down, and a long train of freight cars was thundering by.

he stood and watched it; and all at once awild impulse seized him, a thought that had been lurking within him, unspoken,unrecognized, leaped into sudden life. he started down the track, and when he waspast the gate-keeper's shanty he sprang forward and swung himself on to one of thecars. by and by the train stopped again, andjurgis sprang down and ran under the car, and hid himself upon the truck.here he sat, and when the train started again, he fought a battle with his soul. he gripped his hands and set his teethtogether--he had not wept, and he would not--not a tear!

it was past and over, and he was done withit--he would fling it off his shoulders, be free of it, the whole business, that night. it should go like a black, hatefulnightmare, and in the morning he would be a new man. and every time that a thought of itassailed him--a tender memory, a trace of a tear--he rose up, cursing with rage, andpounded it down. he was fighting for his life; he gnashedhis teeth together in his desperation. he had been a fool, a fool! he had wasted his life, he had wreckedhimself, with his accursed weakness; and

now he was done with it--he would tear itout of him, root and branch! there should be no more tears and no moretenderness; he had had enough of them--they had sold him into slavery!now he was going to be free, to tear off his shackles, to rise up and fight. he was glad that the end had come--it hadto come some time, and it was just as well now. this was no world for women and children,and the sooner they got out of it the better for them. whatever antanas might suffer where he was,he could suffer no more than he would have

had he stayed upon earth. and meantime his father had thought thelast thought about him that he meant to; he was going to think of himself, he was goingto fight for himself, against the world that had baffled him and tortured him! so he went on, tearing up all the flowersfrom the garden of his soul, and setting his heel upon them. the train thundered deafeningly, and astorm of dust blew in his face; but though it stopped now and then through the night,he clung where he was--he would cling there until he was driven off, for every mile

that he got from packingtown meant anotherload from his mind. whenever the cars stopped a warm breezeblew upon him, a breeze laden with the perfume of fresh fields, of honeysuckle andclover. he snuffed it, and it made his heart beatwildly--he was out in the country again! he was going to live in the country! when the dawn came he was peering out withhungry eyes, getting glimpses of meadows and woods and rivers. at last he could stand it no longer, andwhen the train stopped again he crawled out.

upon the top of the car was a brakeman, whoshook his fist and swore; jurgis waved his hand derisively, and started across thecountry. only think that he had been a countrymanall his life; and for three long years he had never seen a country sight nor heard acountry sound! excepting for that one walk when he leftjail, when he was too much worried to notice anything, and for a few times thathe had rested in the city parks in the winter time when he was out of work, he hadliterally never seen a tree! and now he felt like a bird lifted up andborne away upon a gale; he stopped and stared at each new sight of wonder--at aherd of cows, and a meadow full of daisies,

at hedgerows set thick with june roses, atlittle birds singing in the trees. then he came to a farm-house, and aftergetting himself a stick for protection, he approached it. the farmer was greasing a wagon in front ofthe barn, and jurgis went to him. "i would like to get some breakfast,please," he said. "do you want to work?" said the farmer. "no," said jurgis."i don't." "then you can't get anything here," snappedthe other. "i meant to pay for it," said jurgis.

"oh," said the farmer; and then addedsarcastically, "we don't serve breakfast after 7 a.m.""i am very hungry," said jurgis gravely; "i would like to buy some food." "ask the woman," said the farmer, noddingover his shoulder. the "woman" was more tractable, and for adime jurgis secured two thick sandwiches and a piece of pie and two apples. he walked off eating the pie, as the leastconvenient thing to carry. in a few minutes he came to a stream, andhe climbed a fence and walked down the bank, along a woodland path.

by and by he found a comfortable spot, andthere he devoured his meal, slaking his thirst at the stream. then he lay for hours, just gazing anddrinking in joy; until at last he felt sleepy, and lay down in the shade of abush. when he awoke the sun was shining hot inhis face. he sat up and stretched his arms, and thengazed at the water sliding by. there was a deep pool, sheltered andsilent, below him, and a sudden wonderful idea rushed upon him.he might have a bath! the water was free, and he might get intoit--all the way into it!

it would be the first time that he had beenall the way into the water since he left lithuania! when jurgis had first come to thestockyards he had been as clean as any workingman could well be. but later on, what with sickness and coldand hunger and discouragement, and the filthiness of his work, and the vermin inhis home, he had given up washing in winter, and in summer only as much of himas would go into a basin. he had had a shower bath in jail, butnothing since--and now he would have a swim!

the water was warm, and he splashed aboutlike a very boy in his glee. afterward he sat down in the water near thebank, and proceeded to scrub himself-- soberly and methodically, scouring everyinch of him with sand. while he was doing it he would do itthoroughly, and see how it felt to be clean. he even scrubbed his head with sand, andcombed what the men called "crumbs" out of his long, black hair, holding his headunder water as long as he could, to see if he could not kill them all. then, seeing that the sun was still hot, hetook his clothes from the bank and

proceeded to wash them, piece by piece; asthe dirt and grease went floating off downstream he grunted with satisfaction and soused the clothes again, venturing even todream that he might get rid of the fertilizer. he hung them all up, and while they weredrying he lay down in the sun and had another long sleep. they were hot and stiff as boards on top,and a little damp on the underside, when he awakened; but being hungry, he put them onand set out again. he had no knife, but with some labor hebroke himself a good stout club, and, armed

with this, he marched down the road again.before long he came to a big farmhouse, and turned up the lane that led to it. it was just supper-time, and the farmer waswashing his hands at the kitchen door. "please, sir," said jurgis, "can i havesomething to eat? i can pay." to which the farmer responded promptly, "wedon't feed tramps here. get out!" jurgis went without a word; but as hepassed round the barn he came to a freshly ploughed and harrowed field, in which thefarmer had set out some young peach trees;

and as he walked he jerked up a row of them by the roots, more than a hundred trees inall, before he reached the end of the field. that was his answer, and it showed hismood; from now on he was fighting, and the man who hit him would get all that he gave,every time. beyond the orchard jurgis struck through apatch of woods, and then a field of winter grain, and came at last to another road. before long he saw another farmhouse, and,as it was beginning to cloud over a little, he asked here for shelter as well as food.seeing the farmer eying him dubiously, he

added, "i'll be glad to sleep in the barn." "well, i dunno," said the other."do you smoke?" "sometimes," said jurgis, "but i'll do itout of doors." when the man had assented, he inquired,"how much will it cost me? i haven't very much money.""i reckon about twenty cents for supper," replied the farmer. "i won't charge ye for the barn."so jurgis went in, and sat down at the table with the farmer's wife and half adozen children. it was a bountiful meal--there were bakedbeans and mashed potatoes and asparagus

chopped and stewed, and a dish ofstrawberries, and great, thick slices of bread, and a pitcher of milk. jurgis had not had such a feast since hiswedding day, and he made a mighty effort to put in his twenty cents' worth. they were all of them too hungry to talk;but afterward they sat upon the steps and smoked, and the farmer questioned hisguest. when jurgis had explained that he was aworkingman from chicago, and that he did not know just whither he was bound, theother said, "why don't you stay here and work for me?"

"i'm not looking for work just now," jurgisanswered. "i'll pay ye good," said the other, eyinghis big form--"a dollar a day and board ye. help's terrible scarce round here." "is that winter as well as summer?"jurgis demanded quickly. "n--no," said the farmer; "i couldn't keepye after november--i ain't got a big enough place for that." "i see," said the other, "that's what ithought. when you get through working your horsesthis fall, will you turn them out in the snow?"

(jurgis was beginning to think for himselfnowadays.) "it ain't quite the same," the farmeranswered, seeing the point. "there ought to be work a strong fellowlike you can find to do, in the cities, or some place, in the winter time." "yes," said jurgis, "that's what they allthink; and so they crowd into the cities, and when they have to beg or steal to live,then people ask 'em why they don't go into the country, where help is scarce." the farmer meditated awhile."how about when your money's gone?" he inquired, finally."you'll have to, then, won't you?"

"wait till she's gone," said jurgis; "theni'll see." he had a long sleep in the barn and then abig breakfast of coffee and bread and oatmeal and stewed cherries, for which theman charged him only fifteen cents, perhaps having been influenced by his arguments. then jurgis bade farewell, and went on hisway. such was the beginning of his life as atramp. it was seldom he got as fair treatment asfrom this last farmer, and so as time went on he learned to shun the houses and toprefer sleeping in the fields. when it rained he would find a desertedbuilding, if he could, and if not, he would

wait until after dark and then, with hisstick ready, begin a stealthy approach upon a barn. generally he could get in before the doggot scent of him, and then he would hide in the hay and be safe until morning; if not,and the dog attacked him, he would rise up and make a retreat in battle order. jurgis was not the mighty man he had oncebeen, but his arms were still good, and there were few farm dogs he needed to hitmore than once. before long there came raspberries, andthen blackberries, to help him save his money; and there were apples in theorchards and potatoes in the ground--he

learned to note the places and fill hispockets after dark. twice he even managed to capture a chicken,and had a feast, once in a deserted barn and the other time in a lonely spotalongside of a stream. when all of these things failed him he usedhis money carefully, but without worry--for he saw that he could earn more whenever hechose. half an hour's chopping wood in his livelyfashion was enough to bring him a meal, and when the farmer had seen him working hewould sometimes try to bribe him to stay. but jurgis was not staying. he was a free man now, a buccaneer.the old wanderlust had got into his blood,

the joy of the unbound life, the joy ofseeking, of hoping without limit. there were mishaps and discomforts--but atleast there was always something new; and only think what it meant to a man who foryears had been penned up in one place, seeing nothing but one dreary prospect of shanties and factories, to be suddenly setloose beneath the open sky, to behold new landscapes, new places, and new peopleevery hour! to a man whose whole life had consisted ofdoing one certain thing all day, until he was so exhausted that he could only liedown and sleep until the next day--and to be now his own master, working as he

pleased and when he pleased, and facing anew adventure every hour! then, too, his health came back to him, allhis lost youthful vigor, his joy and power that he had mourned and forgotten! it came with a sudden rush, bewilderinghim, startling him; it was as if his dead childhood had come back to him, laughingand calling! what with plenty to eat and fresh air andexercise that was taken as it pleased him, he would waken from his sleep and start offnot knowing what to do with his energy, stretching his arms, laughing, singing oldsongs of home that came back to him. now and then, of course, he could not helpbut think of little antanas, whom he should

never see again, whose little voice heshould never hear; and then he would have to battle with himself. sometimes at night he would waken dreamingof ona, and stretch out his arms to her, and wet the ground with his tears. but in the morning he would get up andshake himself, and stride away again to battle with the world. he never asked where he was nor where hewas going; the country was big enough, he knew, and there was no danger of his comingto the end of it. and of course he could always have companyfor the asking--everywhere he went there

were men living just as he lived, and whomhe was welcome to join. he was a stranger at the business, but theywere not clannish, and they taught him all their tricks--what towns and villages itwas best to keep away from, and how to read the secret signs upon the fences, and when to beg and when to steal, and just how todo both. they laughed at his ideas of paying foranything with money or with work--for they got all they wanted without either. now and then jurgis camped out with a gangof them in some woodland haunt, and foraged with them in the neighborhood at night.

and then among them some one would "take ashine" to him, and they would go off together and travel for a week, exchangingreminiscences. of these professional tramps a great manyhad, of course, been shiftless and vicious all their lives. but the vast majority of them had beenworkingmen, had fought the long fight as jurgis had, and found that it was a losingfight, and given up. later on he encountered yet another sort ofmen, those from whose ranks the tramps were recruited, men who were homeless andwandering, but still seeking work--seeking it in the harvest fields.

of these there was an army, the hugesurplus labor army of society; called into being under the stern system of nature, todo the casual work of the world, the tasks which were transient and irregular, and yetwhich had to be done. they did not know that they were such, ofcourse; they only knew that they sought the job, and that the job was fleeting. in the early summer they would be in texas,and as the crops were ready they would follow north with the season, ending withthe fall in manitoba. then they would seek out the big lumbercamps, where there was winter work; or failing in this, would drift to the cities,and live upon what they had managed to

save, with the help of such transient work as was there the loading and unloading ofsteamships and drays, the digging of ditches and the shoveling of snow. if there were more of them on hand thanchanced to be needed, the weaker ones died off of cold and hunger, again according tothe stern system of nature. it was in the latter part of july, whenjurgis was in missouri, that he came upon the harvest work. here were crops that men had worked forthree or four months to prepare, and of which they would lose nearly all unlessthey could find others to help them for a

week or two. so all over the land there was a cry forlabor--agencies were set up and all the cities were drained of men, even collegeboys were brought by the carload, and hordes of frantic farmers would hold up trains and carry off wagon-loads of men bymain force. not that they did not pay them well--anyman could get two dollars a day and his board, and the best men could get twodollars and a half or three. the harvest-fever was in the very air, andno man with any spirit in him could be in that region and not catch it.

jurgis joined a gang and worked from dawntill dark, eighteen hours a day, for two weeks without a break. then he had a sum of money that would havebeen a fortune to him in the old days of misery--but what could he do with it now? to be sure he might have put it in a bank,and, if he were fortunate, get it back again when he wanted it. but jurgis was now a homeless man,wandering over a continent; and what did he know about banking and drafts and lettersof credit? if he carried the money about with him, hewould surely be robbed in the end; and so

what was there for him to do but enjoy itwhile he could? on a saturday night he drifted into a townwith his fellows; and because it was raining, and there was no other placeprovided for him, he went to a saloon. and there were some who treated him andwhom he had to treat, and there was laughter and singing and good cheer; andthen out of the rear part of the saloon a girl's face, red-cheeked and merry, smiled at jurgis, and his heart thumped suddenlyin his throat. he nodded to her, and she came and sat byhim, and they had more drink, and then he went upstairs into a room with her, and thewild beast rose up within him and screamed,

as it has screamed in the jungle from thedawn of time. and then because of his memories and hisshame, he was glad when others joined them, men and women; and they had more drink andspent the night in wild rioting and debauchery. in the van of the surplus-labor army, therefollowed another, an army of women, they also struggling for life under the sternsystem of nature. because there were rich men who soughtpleasure, there had been ease and plenty for them so long as they were young andbeautiful; and later on, when they were crowded out by others younger and more

beautiful, they went out to follow upon thetrail of the workingmen. sometimes they came of themselves, and thesaloon-keepers shared with them; or sometimes they were handled by agencies,the same as the labor army. they were in the towns in harvest time,near the lumber camps in the winter, in the cities when the men came there; if aregiment were encamped, or a railroad or canal being made, or a great exposition getting ready, the crowd of women were onhand, living in shanties or saloons or tenement rooms, sometimes eight or ten ofthem together. in the morning jurgis had not a cent, andhe went out upon the road again.

he was sick and disgusted, but after thenew plan of his life, he crushed his feelings down. he had made a fool of himself, but he couldnot help it now--all he could do was to see that it did not happen again. so he tramped on until exercise and freshair banished his headache, and his strength and joy returned. this happened to him every time, for jurgiswas still a creature of impulse, and his pleasures had not yet become business. it would be a long time before he could belike the majority of these men of the road,

who roamed until the hunger for drink andfor women mastered them, and then went to work with a purpose in mind, and stoppedwhen they had the price of a spree. on the contrary, try as he would, jurgiscould not help being made miserable by his conscience. it was the ghost that would not down.it would come upon him in the most unexpected places--sometimes it fairlydrove him to drink. one night he was caught by a thunderstorm,and he sought shelter in a little house just outside of a town. it was a working-man's home, and the ownerwas a slav like himself, a new emigrant

from white russia; he bade jurgis welcomein his home language, and told him to come to the kitchen-fire and dry himself. he had no bed for him, but there was strawin the garret, and he could make out. the man's wife was cooking the supper, andtheir children were playing about on the floor. jurgis sat and exchanged thoughts with himabout the old country, and the places where they had been and the work they had done. then they ate, and afterward sat and smokedand talked more about america, and how they found it.

in the middle of a sentence, however,jurgis stopped, seeing that the woman had brought a big basin of water and wasproceeding to undress her youngest baby. the rest had crawled into the closet wherethey slept, but the baby was to have a bath, the workingman explained. the nights had begun to be chilly, and hismother, ignorant as to the climate in america, had sewed him up for the winter;then it had turned warm again, and some kind of a rash had broken out on the child. the doctor had said she must bathe himevery night, and she, foolish woman, believed him.jurgis scarcely heard the explanation; he

was watching the baby. he was about a year old, and a sturdylittle fellow, with soft fat legs, and a round ball of a stomach, and eyes as blackas coals. his pimples did not seem to bother himmuch, and he was wild with glee over the bath, kicking and squirming and chucklingwith delight, pulling at his mother's face and then at his own little toes. when she put him into the basin he sat inthe midst of it and grinned, splashing the water over himself and squealing like alittle pig. he spoke in russian, of which jurgis knewsome; he spoke it with the quaintest of

baby accents--and every word of it broughtback to jurgis some word of his own dead little one, and stabbed him like a knife. he sat perfectly motionless, silent, butgripping his hands tightly, while a storm gathered in his bosom and a flood heapeditself up behind his eyes. and in the end he could bear it no more,but buried his face in his hands and burst into tears, to the alarm and amazement ofhis hosts. between the shame of this and his woejurgis could not stand it, and got up and rushed out into the rain. he went on and on down the road, finallycoming to a black woods, where he hid and

wept as if his heart would break. ah, what agony was that, what despair, whenthe tomb of memory was rent open and the ghosts of his old life came forth toscourge him! what terror to see what he had been and nowcould never be--to see ona and his child and his own dead self stretching out theirarms to him, calling to him across a bottomless abyss--and to know that they were gone from him forever, and he writhingand suffocating in the mire of his own vileness!