r her, but not a trace
could I find. It seemed that she had dropped out of the world, utterly,
and that no one had missed her. Finally I was so hungry that I begged a
bite to eat and went down by the canal and fell asleep. Here a strange
thing happened. I had a dreadful dream. I dreamed that I saw my wife
being dragged from the dark waters of the canal. She had the same sad,
sweet face, but not the same hair. I awoke in a cold sweat. I was now
seized with an irresistible longing to look once more upon the face of
the dead woman whom I had seen them fish from the foul waters that
morning, and I set out for the morgue. I entered unnoticed and there lay
the dead woman with her white hands folded upon her dead breast. She had
the same sad, sweet face, but not the same hair, but it was she--it was
my wife."

The vag let his head fall so that his eyes rested upon the ground. Patsy
fished something from his vest and holding it out to the man, said:
"Here's a one-dollar bill and a three-dollar meal ticket--which will you
have?"

"Gi' me the pie-card."

"Which shows you're not a regular bum," said Patsy.

"No," said the man, eyeing the meal ticket with its twenty-one unpunched
holes. "I never cared for liquor, only once in a while when a bum makes
a lift I take a nip just to stop the awful gnawing, cramping pain of
hunger, but it only makes you feel worse afterwards. But it's
interesting," said the tramp, thoughtfully. "If it were not for the
hunger and cold this new life that I have dropped into wouldn't be half
bad. You get a closer glimpse of the miseries of mankind and a better
notion of the causes that bring it all about. It educates you. Now take
this fight for instance. You fellows feel sure of success, but I know
better. Only two men of all the vast army of strikers have deserted so
far, but wait. Wait till the pain of hunger hits you and doubles you up
like a jack-knife, and it's sure to come. Behind the management there
are merciless millions of money: behind the strikers the gaunt wolf of
hunger stalks in the snow. Can you beat a game like that? Never. And
after all what right have you and your people to expect mercy at the
hands of organized capital? Does the Union show mercy to men like me? To
escape the blight of the black-list I changed my name. Three times I
found work, but in each instance the company were forced to discharge me
or have a strike. I was not a Union man and so had to steal a ride out
of town.