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They
were
all
his
associates
,
his
good
friends
,
the
group
was
his
environment
,
belonging
to
his
daily
life
.
And
he
,
standing
there
in
the
dust
of
the
road
by
the
irrigating
ditch
,
had
seen
them
shot
.
He
found
himself
suddenly
at
his
table
,
the
candle
burning
at
his
elbow
,
his
journal
before
him
,
writing
swiftly
,
the
desire
for
expression
,
the
craving
for
outlet
to
the
thoughts
that
clamoured
tumultuous
at
his
brain
,
never
more
insistent
,
more
imperious
.
Thus
he
wrote
:
“
Dabney
dead
,
Hooven
dead
,
Harran
dead
,
Annixter
dead
,
Broderson
dead
,
Osterman
dying
,
S
.
Behrman
alive
,
successful
;
the
Railroad
in
possession
of
Quien
Sabe
.
I
saw
them
shot
.
Not
twelve
hours
since
I
stood
there
at
the
irrigating
ditch
.
Ah
,
that
terrible
moment
of
horror
and
confusion
!
powder
smoke
—
flashing
pistol
barrels
—
blood
stains
—
rearing
horses
—
men
staggering
to
their
death
—
Christian
in
a
horrible
posture
,
one
rigid
leg
high
in
the
air
across
his
saddle
—
Broderson
falling
sideways
into
the
ditch
—
Osterman
laying
himself
down
,
his
head
on
his
arms
,
as
if
tired
,
tired
out
.
These
things
,
I
have
seen
them
.
The
picture
of
this
day
’
s
work
is
from
henceforth
part
of
my
mind
,
part
of
ME
.
They
have
done
it
,
S
.
Behrman
and
the
owners
of
the
railroad
have
done
it
,
while
all
the
world
looked
on
,
while
the
people
of
these
United
States
looked
on
.
Oh
,
come
now
and
try
your
theories
upon
us
,
us
of
the
ranchos
,
us
,
who
have
suffered
,
us
,
who
KNOW
.
Oh
,
talk
to
US
now
of
the
’
rights
of
Capital
,
’
talk
to
US
of
the
Trust
,
talk
to
US
of
the
’
equilibrium
between
the
classes
.
’
Try
your
ingenious
ideas
upon
us
.
WE
KNOW
.
I
cannot
tell
whether
or
not
your
theories
are
excellent
.
I
do
not
know
if
your
ideas
are
plausible
.
I
do
not
know
how
practical
is
your
scheme
of
society
.
I
do
not
know
if
the
Railroad
has
a
right
to
our
lands
,
but
I
DO
know
that
Harran
is
dead
,
that
Annixter
is
dead
,
that
Broderson
is
dead
,
that
Hooven
is
dead
,
that
Osterman
is
dying
,
and
that
S
.
Behrman
is
alive
,
successful
,
triumphant
;
that
he
has
ridden
into
possession
of
a
principality
over
the
dead
bodies
of
five
men
shot
down
by
his
hired
associates
.
“
I
can
see
the
outcome
.
The
Railroad
will
prevail
.
The
Trust
will
overpower
us
.
Here
in
this
corner
of
a
great
nation
,
here
,
on
the
edge
of
the
continent
,
here
,
in
this
valley
of
the
West
,
far
from
the
great
centres
,
isolated
,
remote
,
lost
,
the
great
iron
hand
crushes
life
from
us
,
crushes
liberty
and
the
pursuit
of
happiness
from
us
,
and
our
little
struggles
,
our
moment
’
s
convulsion
of
death
agony
causes
not
one
jar
in
the
vast
,
clashing
machinery
of
the
nation
’
s
life
;
a
fleck
of
grit
in
the
wheels
,
perhaps
,
a
grain
of
sand
in
the
cogs
—
the
momentary
creak
of
the
axle
is
the
mother
’
s
wail
of
bereavement
,
the
wife
’
s
cry
of
anguish
—
and
the
great
wheel
turns
,
spinning
smooth
again
,
even
again
,
and
the
tiny
impediment
of
a
second
,
scarce
noticed
,
is
forgotten
.
Make
the
people
believe
that
the
faint
tremour
in
their
great
engine
is
a
menace
to
its
function
?
What
a
folly
to
think
of
it
.
Tell
them
of
the
danger
and
they
will
laugh
at
you
.
Tell
them
,
five
years
from
now
,
the
story
of
the
fight
between
the
League
of
the
San
Joaquin
and
the
Railroad
and
it
will
not
be
believed
.
What
!
a
pitched
battle
between
Farmer
and
Railroad
,
a
battle
that
cost
the
lives
of
seven
men
?
Impossible
,
it
could
not
have
happened
.
Your
story
is
fiction
—
is
exaggerated
.
“
Yet
it
is
Lexington
—
God
help
us
,
God
enlighten
us
,
God
rouse
us
from
our
lethargy
—
it
is
Lexington
;
farmers
with
guns
in
their
hands
fighting
for
Liberty
.
Is
our
State
of
California
the
only
one
that
has
its
ancient
and
hereditary
foe
?
Are
there
no
other
Trusts
between
the
oceans
than
this
of
the
Pacific
and
Southwestern
Railroad
?
Ask
yourselves
,
you
of
the
Middle
West
,
ask
yourselves
,
you
of
the
North
,
ask
yourselves
,
you
of
the
East
,
ask
yourselves
,
you
of
the
South
—
ask
yourselves
,
every
citizen
of
every
State
from
Maine
to
Mexico
,
from
the
Dakotas
to
the
Carolinas
,
have
you
not
the
monster
in
your
boundaries
?
If
it
is
not
a
Trust
of
transportation
,
it
is
only
another
head
of
the
same
Hydra
.
Is
not
our
death
struggle
typical
?
Is
it
not
one
of
many
,
is
it
not
symbolical
of
the
great
and
terrible
conflict
that
is
going
on
everywhere
in
these
United
States
?
Ah
,
you
people
,
blind
,
bound
,
tricked
,
betrayed
,
can
you
not
see
it
?
Can
you
not
see
how
the
monsters
have
plundered
your
treasures
and
holding
them
in
the
grip
of
their
iron
claws
,
dole
them
out
to
you
only
at
the
price
of
your
blood
,
at
the
price
of
the
lives
of
your
wives
and
your
little
children
?
You
give
your
babies
to
Moloch
for
the
loaf
of
bread
you
have
kneaded
yourselves
.
You
offer
your
starved
wives
to
Juggernaut
for
the
iron
nail
you
have
yourselves
compounded
.
”
He
spent
the
night
over
his
journal
,
writing
down
such
thoughts
as
these
or
walking
the
floor
from
wall
to
wall
,
or
,
seized
at
times
with
unreasoning
horror
and
blind
rage
,
flinging
himself
face
downward
upon
his
bed
,
vowing
with
inarticulate
cries
that
neither
S
.
Behrman
nor
Shelgrim
should
ever
live
to
consummate
their
triumph
.
Morning
came
and
with
it
the
daily
papers
and
news
.
Presley
did
not
even
glance
at
the
“
Mercury
.
”
Bonneville
published
two
other
daily
journals
that
professed
to
voice
the
will
and
reflect
the
temper
of
the
people
and
these
he
read
eagerly
.
Osterman
was
yet
alive
and
there
were
chances
of
his
recovery
.
The
League
—
some
three
hundred
of
its
members
had
gathered
at
Bonneville
over
night
and
were
patrolling
the
streets
and
,
still
resolved
to
keep
the
peace
,
were
even
guarding
the
railroad
shops
and
buildings
.
Furthermore
,
the
Leaguers
had
issued
manifestoes
,
urging
all
citizens
to
preserve
law
and
order
,
yet
summoning
an
indignation
meeting
to
be
convened
that
afternoon
at
the
City
Opera
House
.
