ad
turned--evidently into the court house, where the Judge had his office.

Grant took up his book. After noon the jailer came with Henry Fenn, who,
as Adams' attorney, visited him daily. But the jailer stood by while the
lawyer talked to the prisoner through the bars. Henry Fenn wore a
troubled face and Grant saw at once that his friend was worried. So
Grant began:

"So you've heard my cell-mate's message--eh, Henry? Well, don't worry.
Tell the boys down in the Valley, whatever they do--to keep off Market
Street and out of Harvey to-night."

The listening jailer looked sharply at Fenn. It was apparent the jailer
expected Fenn to protest. But Fenn turned his radiant smile on the
jailer and said: "The smelter men say they could go through this steel
as if it was pasteboard in ten minutes--if you'd say the word." Fenn
grinned at the prisoner as he added: "If you want the boys, all the tin
soldiers and fake cops in the State can't stop them. But I've told them
to stay away--to stay in their fields, to keep the peace; that it is
your wish."

"Henry," replied Grant, "tell the boys this for me. We've won this fight
now. They can't build a fire, strike a pick, or turn a wheel if the boys
stick--and stick in peace. I'm satisfied that this story of what they
will do to me to-night, while I don't question the poor chap who sent
the word--is a plan to scare the boys into a riot to save me and thus to
break our peace strike."

He walked nervously up and down his cell, clicking the bars with his
claw as he passed the door. "Tell the boys this. Tell them to go to bed
to-night early; beware of false rumors, and at all hazards keep out of
Harvey. I'm absolutely safe. I'm not in the least afraid--and, Henry,
Henry," cried Grant, as he saw doubt and anxiety in his friend's face,
"what if it's true; what if they do come and get me? They can't hurt me.
They can only hurt themselves. Violence always reacts. Every blow I get
will help the boys--I know this--I tell you--"

"And I tell you, young man," interrupted Fenn, "that right now one dead
leader with a short arm is worth more to the employers than a ton of
moral force! And Laura and George and Nate and the Doctor and I have
been skirmishing around all day, and we have filed a petition for your
release on a habeas corpus in the Federal court--on the ground that your
imprisonment under martial law without a jury trial is
unconstitutional."

"In the Federal court before Van Dorn?"