He began to think
that he also must be like the figure of which the drunkard had talked.
He remembered a story the oculist had told of a fight in the streets
of a European city and muttered and waved the hammer about. Upstairs
his mother sat by the window with her head in her hands. From the
saloon down the street a light gleamed out on the wet sidewalk. The
tall pale woman who had gone with him to the eminence overlooking the
valley came down the stairway from above the undertaker's shop. She
ran along the sidewalk. On her head she wore a shawl and as she ran
she clutched it with her hand. The other hand she held against her
side.
When the women reached the boy who sat in silence before the bakery
she put her hands on his shoulders and plead with him. "Come away,"
she said. "Get your mother and come to our place. They're going to
smash you up here. You'll get hurt."
Beaut arose and pushed her away. Her coming had given him new courage.
His heart jumped at the thought of her interest in him and he wished
that the miners might come so that he could fight them before her. "I
wish I could live among people as decent as she," he thought.
A train stopped at the station down the street. There came the sound
of tramping of men and quick sharp commands.
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