CAMP

XXIX A SICK, EMACIATED SOCIAL SYSTEM

XXX BREAKING INTO THE TIN INDUSTRY

XXXI UNACCUSTOMED AS I AM TO PUBLIC SPEAKING

XXXII LOGIC WINS IN THE STRETCH

XXXIII I MEET THE INDUSTRIAL CAPTAINS

XXXIV SHIRTS FOR TIN ROLLERS

XXXV AN UPLIFTER RULED BY ENVY

XXXVI GROWLING FOR THE BOSSES BLOOD

XXXVII FREE AND UNLIMITED COINAGE

XXXVIII THE EDITOR GETS MY GOAT

XXXIX PUTTING JAZZ INTO THE CAMPAIGN

XL FATHER TOOK ME SERIOUSLY

XLI A PAVING CONTRACTOR PUTS ME ON THE PAVING

XLII THE EVERLASTING MORALIZER

XLIII FROM TIN WORKER TO SMALL CAPITALIST

XLIV A CHANCE TO REALIZE A DREAM

XLV THE DREAM COMES TRUE

XLVI THE MOOSEHEART IDEA

XLVII LIFE'S PROBLEMS

XLVIII BUILDING A BETTER WORLD BY EDUCATION

XLIX CONCLUSION

THE IRON PUDDLER

CHAPTER I. THE HOME-MADE SUIT OF CLOTHES

A fight in the first chapter made a book interesting to me when I was a
boy. I said to myself, "The man who writes several chapters before the
fighting begins is like the man who sells peanuts in which a lot of the
shells haven't any goodies." I made up my mind then that if I ever wrote
a book I would have a fight in the first chapter.

So I will tell right here how I whipped the town bully in Sharon,
Pennsylvania. I'll call him Babe Durgon. I've forgotten his real name,
and it might be better not to mention it anyhow. For though I whipped
him thirty years ago, he might come back now in a return match and
reverse the verdict, so that my first chapter would serve better as my
last one. Babe was older than I, and had pestered me from the time I was
ten. Now I was eighteen and a man. I was a master puddler in the mill
and a musician in the town band (I always went with men older than
myself). Two stove molders from a neighboring factory were visiting me
that day, and, as it was dry and hot, I offered to treat them to a cool
drink. There were no soda fountains in those days and the only place to
take a friend was to the tavern. We went in and my companions ordered
beer. Babe, the bully, was standing by the bar. He had just come of age,
and wanted to bulldoze me with that fact.

"Don't serve Jimmy Davis a beer," Babe commanded. "He's a minor. He
can't buy beer."

"I didn't want a beer," I said. "I was going to order a soft drink."

"Yes, you was. Like hell you was," Babe t