Chapter 8 a person

On February 4, 1875, the weather was bitterly cold, and the valleys of Mount Gilmerton were covered with deep snow.However, thanks to the steam minesweepers, the railroad remained open, and the night train on the long line linking the coal mines to the ironworks rumbled slowly up the steep slope from the plains of Stargville to the mouth of the Vermissa valley. Drive to the town of Vermisa in the central area.Here the train travels, down the Barton Bypass, Helmdale, and into the agriculturally rich Melton County.It was a monorail, but the countless trains of wagons laden with coal and iron ore on each siding spoke of the richness of the mineral deposits.This rich mineral deposit has brought many rough people to this most desolate corner of the United States, and life has begun to boil.

It used to be a barren land.The first batch of pioneers who came here to conduct a detailed inspection would never have imagined that this picturesque prairie and lush pastures were actually a desolate land full of black rocks and dense forests.On the hillside is a dense forest that barely sees the sun, and then there is a towering bare mountain top, with white snow and rocks standing on both sides, passing through the winding valley, the train is creeping upwards slowly. The passenger car in front had just lit its oil lamps, and there were twenty or thirty people sitting in a simple long carriage, most of them were workers. After working hard all day at the bottom of the deep valley, they took the train back to rest.At least a dozen people, from their grime-covered faces and the safety lights they carried, were clearly miners.They sat smoking together, chatting in low voices, and occasionally glanced at two men sitting across from each other in the car, wearing uniforms and badges identifying them as police officers.

Among the rest of the passengers in the passenger compartment, there were several working-class women, and one or two passengers might be small local business owners. Besides, there was a young man sitting alone in a corner of the compartment.Since it is this one with whom we are concerned, it is worth mentioning at length. This young man is imposing, of medium build, but about thirty years old.A pair of big gray eyes with a sense of humor, turning quickly and curiously from time to time, looking at the people around through the glasses.It was not difficult to see that he was a sociable, open-minded man, eager to make friends with all people.Anyone can immediately spot his gregarious temper and talkative personality, witty and always smiling.But if someone observes carefully, he can see the resolute and indomitable look from his lips and the corners of his mouth, and he knows that this is a person with deep thoughts. This happy young brown-haired Irishman must know Make a name for himself somehow in the society he enters.

The young man exchanged a word or two with a miner who sat nearest him, but the other said little and rudely, and fell silent for lack of congeniality, and gazed sullenly at the fading landscape outside the window. . The view couldn't be happier.The sky was gradually darkening, and the hillside was glowing with the red light of the fire, and the slag and slag piled up like mountains, looming on both sides of the hillside, and the shaft of the coal mine towered above it.There are scattered low wooden houses everywhere along the road, and the lights in the windows are flickering, vaguely showing their outlines.Parking stops that appear here and there are packed with dark-skinned passengers.

The coal-and-iron valley of Vermissa is not a place frequented by the leisurely classes and the cultured.Here and there are traces of the most stern struggle for existence, primitive rough labor performed by rough, robust workers. The displeasure and curiosity on the young traveler's face, as he gazed upon the dismal scene of the little town, showed that the place was still unknown to him.From time to time he took a letter out of his pocket, looked at it, and scribbled something in the margin.Once he pulled something out of his back which was hard to believe belonged to someone as suave as himself.It was the largest naval revolver.When he held the pistol sideways to the light, the brass bullets on the wheel gleamed, indicating that the gun was fully loaded.He quickly put the gun back in his pocket, but was seen by a worker sitting next to him.

"Hey, man," said the workman, "you seem to be on your guard." The young man smiled unnaturally. "Yeah," he said, "where I come from, we need it sometimes." "What is that place?" "I just came from Chicago." "You're not familiar with this place, are you?" "yes." "You'll find it useful here, too," the worker said. "Ah! Really?" The young man seemed to be very concerned and asked. "Haven't you heard of any accidents around here?" "I haven't heard anything unusual."

"Hey! There's a lot going on here, and you'll hear enough of it in no time. Why did you come here?" "I've heard there's always a job for anyone who wants to work here." "Are you in the union?" "Of course." "I think you'll have work, too. Have you any friends?" "Not yet, but I can make friends." "How do you deal with it?" "I am a member of the Freedmen's Association, and there is no town without a chapter, and where there is a chapter I have friends." This remark had an abnormal effect on the other party, and the worker glanced suspiciously at the others in the car, and saw that the miners were still talking in low voices, and the two policemen were dozing off.He came over, sat down next to the young traveler, held out his hand, and said:

"Stretch your hand over here." The two men shook hands to sign. "I see you're telling the truth. But it's better to find out." He raised his right hand and brought it to his right eyebrow.The young man immediately raised his left hand and placed it next to his left eyebrow. "The night is unpleasant," said the worker. "The night is unpleasant to a travelling stranger," replied another. "Great. I'm Brother Scanlon from Chapter 341 of the Vermissa Valley. Nice to see you here." "Thank you. I am Brother John McMurdo of Chicago Twenty-Nine. Body JH Scott. I am lucky, though, to meet a brother so soon."

"Well, we've got a lot of people around here. You'll see, in the Vermissa Valley, Ben's got more power than anywhere in America. But we're going to have a lot of boys like you. I I wonder why a spirited unionist like you can't get a job in Chicago." "I've had a lot of work," said McMurdo. "Then why did you leave?" McMurdo nodded to the policeman, smiled, and said, "I think these fellows will be glad to know." Scanlon snorted sympathetically. "Is there any trouble?" he asked in a low voice. "Very troublesome."

"Is it a crime?" "There are other aspects." "It's not murder, is it?" "It's too early to talk about such things," said McMurdo, looking surprised that he had gone too far. "I had good reasons of my own for leaving Chicago, and you don't mind. Who are you? How can you keep asking about this kind of thing?" McMurdo's gray eyes glinted suddenly through his spectacles with an angry savagery. "Well, man. Please don't take offense. People don't think you've done anything bad. Where are you going now?"

"To Vermissa." "The third stop is coming. Where are you going to live?" McMurdo produced an envelope, and held it to the dim lamp. "Here's the address—Sheridan Street, Jacob Schefter. It's an apartment that a guy I knew in Chicago told me about." "Oh, I don't know about this apartment, I don't know Vermesa well. I live in Hobsons Land and I'm coming up now. But before we part, I want to tell you a word. If you're in Vermesa When Sa is in trouble, you go straight to the union and go to Chief McGinty. He is the head of the Vermissa chapter, and nothing will happen here without the permission of Blake Jack McGinty. Goodbye Well, boy, maybe we can meet at the club one night. But take my word for it: If you ever get in trouble, go to Chief McGinty." Scanlon got out of the car, and McMurdo fell back into thought.It was completely dark now, and the flames of the blast furnaces hissed and danced and flashed in the darkness.Illuminated by the red light, some black figures are bending, exerting force, twisting, and turning around following the movement of the crane or hoist, and the melody of clanging and roaring. "I think hell must be like this," someone said. Turning back, McMurdo saw one of the policemen move, looking out over the fire-lit moor. "For that," said the other policeman, "I think hell must be like this, and I don't think the devils there are worse than we know. Young man, I suppose you've just been here?" "Well, so what if I'm just here?" McMurdo replied roughly. "Well, sir, I advise you to choose your friends carefully. If I were you, I wouldn't start out with Mike Scanlon or his gang." "Who am I to befriend is your business!" snapped McMurdo.His voice startled everyone in the car, and everyone was watching them arguing, "Did I ask you to advise me? Or do you think I'm a fool, and I can't move if I don't listen to your advice? If someone talks to you, open your mouth again. If I were you, hey! Just stay aside for a while!" He turned his face toward the policeman, gnashing his teeth like a barking dog. Both experienced and good-natured policemen were astonished that this overture of friendliness should be so strongly rejected. "Please don't take offense, sir," said one of the policemen, "it appears that you are new here. It is for your own good that we warn you." "I'm new to the land, but I'm not new to your kind," cried McMurdo mercilessly. "I see you people as black as crows, put away your exhortations. No one needs it." "We'll meet again soon," said one of the policemen, sneering. "If I were a judge, I dare say you're one of a kind." "I think so too," said another policeman. "I think we'll meet later." "I'm not afraid of you, and you can't frighten me," cried McMurdo. "My name is Jack McMurdo, do you understand? Go to Cob Shaft's apartment, I'm never going to hide from you guys, I'll see you guys day and night. Don't get that wrong." The daring of the newcomer aroused sympathy and admiration from the miners, who murmured, and the two policemen shrugged resignedly and whispered to each other. A few minutes later the train pulled into a dimly lit station in an open space, for Vermissa was the largest town on the line.McMurdo picked up his leather traveling bag and was about to go into the darkness when a miner came up to him and began talking to him. "Why, man, you know how to talk to these cops," he said admiringly. "It's a pleasure to hear you talk. I'll get you your bag and show you the way. apartment." The other miners bade McMurdo good night in a friendly chorus as they came across the platform.So McMurdo, the troublemaker, was already well-known in Vermissa, though he had not established himself here. The country is a scary place, but the town is, in a way, even more dreary.But there is at least a sombre grandeur in this narrow valley, with flames and clouds of smoke, while men of strength and industry have wrought their well-deserved monuments on those hills where those who piled up next to the tunnel.But the towns look ugly and dirty.The wide avenue was riddled with muddy ruts by passing vehicles.The sidewalks were narrow and rough, and the many gas lamps lit only a row of board houses, each with a street-facing balcony, cluttered and dirty. McMurdo and the miner approached the city center, a row of brightly lit shops, and even brighter lights in the taverns and casinos, where the miners squandered their hard-earned money. "This is the Union," said the guide, pointing to a tall hotel-like tavern. "Jack McGinty is the leader here." "What was he like?" asked McMurdo. "What! Haven't you heard of the leader's name before?" "You know I'm so new to this place, how did I ever hear of him?" "Oh, I thought everybody in the union knew his name. He's in the papers a lot." "why?" "Ah," the miner lowered his voice, "something happened." "What's up?" "My God, sir, I don't think you'll be offended, you're a queer man, and the only thing you hear about here is the bloody thing." "Why, I think I've heard of diehards in Chicago. They're a bunch of murderers, aren't they?" "Shh, don't talk! Don't talk!" exclaimed the miner, who stood there in bewilderment, looking at his companion in surprise. "My man, if you talk like that in the street, you are There's not much life left here. Many people have died for lesser things than that." "Well, I don't know anything about them, it's just what I've heard." "However, I'm not saying that what you've heard is not true." The man said, looking around anxiously, staring at the dark place, as if afraid of seeing some hidden danger, "if If it was homicide, God knows, there are plenty of homicides. But you mustn't connect that with Jack McGinty's name, because every whisper goes to him, and McGinty is not Will let it pass lightly. Well, that's the house you're looking for, the one at the back of the street. You'll find the owner, old Jacob Schefter, an honest man of the town." "Thank you," said McMurdo, shaking hands with his new acquaintance.Carrying his travel bag, he walked heavily on the path leading to the house, walked to the door, and knocked hard on the door. The door opened immediately, but the person who opened the door was beyond his expectation.She is a young, outstandingly beautiful German-type woman with jade skin and skin, golden hair, a pair of beautiful big black eyes, looking at the visitors in amazement, and her fair and tender face flushed with embarrassment.Under the bright street lamp at the door, it seemed to McMurdo that he had never seen such a beautiful figure; her contrast with the filth and gloom around her was all the more attractive.Even a single violet would grow out of these black cinders, and it would not be so surprising as this woman.He stood there fascinated and dumbfounded, and it was this woman who broke the silence. "I thought it was my father," she said softly, with a slight German accent. "You came to see him? He's gone to town. I was expecting him to come back." McMurdo was still gazing at her with fond admiration, and the woman bowed her head in confusion before the reserved visitor. "No, miss," said McMurdo at last, "I'm in no hurry to find him. But I've been introduced to live with you. I think it suits me, and I know better now. " "You decided too quickly, too," the woman said with a smile. "Anybody will decide that, unless they are blind," replied McMurdo. The girl smiled when she heard the words of praise. "Come in, sir," said she. "My name is Miss Etty Sheft, Mr. Sheft's daughter. My mother is long gone, and I manage the house. You can sit down by the fire in the front hall and wait for me. Father is back. Ah, he is here, you can discuss with him if you have anything to do." An old man came slowly down the path.McMurdo explained to him his purpose in a few words.In Chicago, a man named Murphy introduced him here.The address was given to Murphy by another person.Old Shaft fully agreed.McMurdo did not hesitate about the price of the room, and agreed to everything at once, and was evidently rich enough to pay seven dollars a week in advance for board and lodging. And so McMurdo, who avowed himself a fugitive, began to live with the Shafters.This first step leads to a long and bleak innumerable turmoil, which ends in a foreign land at the end of the world.