Then
the dozen shots fired almost simultaneously. The great surge of the mob
forward. The quick order, and the rattle of guns, as they rose to the
shoulder. Another order, and the sheet of flame. The great surge of the
mob backwards. Then silence. Silence in the ranks. Silence in the mob.
Silence in those who lay on the ground between the two.
Capital and Labor were disagreed as to a ten per cent reduction of
wages, and were trying to settle it. At first blush capital had the best
of it. "Only a few strikers and militia-men killed," was the apparent
result of that struggle. The scabs were in safety inside the station,
and trains were already making up, preparatory to a resumption of
traffic. But capital did not go scot-free. "Firing in the streets of New
York," was the word sent out all over the world, and on every exchange
in the country, stocks fell. Capital paid twenty-five million dollars
that day, for those few ounces of lead. Such a method of settlement
seems rather crude and costly, for the last decade of the nineteenth
century.
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