rs on the dock had not succeeded in murdering were
of the most trivial nature, clearly proving that arch-sleuth McLaren had
been unable to discover or to manufacture anything that would make
Tracy's record other than that of a plain, unassuming, migratory worker.

"Where did you vote last?" asked Cooley.

"I never voted," responded Tracy.

"Never voted in your life?" queried Cooley.

"No!" replied the defendant who for the time represented the entire
migratory class. "I was never in one place long enough!"

Then, acting on the class theory that it is an honor to be a
"globe-trotter" but a disgrace to be a "blanket-stiff," the prosecutor
brought out Tracy's travels in minute detail. This examination of the
railroad construction worker brought home to the listeners the truth of
the little verse:

"He built the road;
With others of his class he built the road;
Now o'er its weary length he packs his load,
Chasing a Job, spurred on by Hunger's goad,
He walks and walks and walks and walks,
And wonders why in Hell he built the road!"

Then there hobbled into the court room on crutches a stripling with an
empty trouser leg, his face drawn with suffering, and who was able to
get into the witness chair only by obviously painful efforts with the
assistance of Vanderveer and Judge Ronald. This was Harry Golden, whose
entire left leg had been amputated after having been shattered by a
high-power rifle bullet fired by a "law and order" deputy.

Golden stated that he had been born in Poland twenty-two years before,
and had come to the United States at the age of sixteen. He was asked:

"Why did you come to this country?"

"I came to the United States," said the witness, "because it is supposed
to be a free country."

"We object to that as immaterial!" cried prosecutor Veitch.

The witness described the firing of the first shot and told of his
attempts to find a place of safety. He said he was wounded in the hand
as he attempted to climb into a life boat. He remained on the starboard
side of the starboard life boat until the Verona had backed out into the
bay. Then just as he was starting to raise up a rifle bullet struck his
leg, taking a course thru the limb and emerging at the knee.

"That is on your left--?"

"On my left, yes, which I ain't got; I lost it!" said the witness.

"Did I understand you to say you stood up to see something before you
were shot?" asked Veitch.

"Why,