the iron puddler-第16节
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us all。 Some workers are dishonest and they gouge the employers。 Some employers are dishonest and they gouge the workers。 But whether employer or employee does the robbing； the public is the one that's robbed。 And they are both members of the public。 In making the world poorer they are rendering a sorry service to the world。
Dishonesty is the thing that does the trick。 And it is not confined to any class。 It was not a capitalist but a slick wind worker who robbed me by the watch swindle。 He had to swing his jaw for hours every day in order to steal a few dollars。
CHAPTER XXV
A DROP IN THE BUCKET OF BLOOD
In Birmingham I found a job in a rolling mill and established myself in a good boarding…house。 In those days a 〃good boarding… house〃 in iron workers' language meant one where you got good board。 One such was called 〃The Bucket of Blood。〃 It got its name because a bloody fight occurred there almost every day。 Any meal might end in a knock…down…and…drag…out。 The ambulance called there almost as often as the baker's cart。 But it was a 〃good〃 boarding…house。 And I established myself there。
Good board consists in lots of greasy meat； strong coffee and slabs of sweet pie with gummy crusts； as thick as the palm of your hand。 At the Bucket of Blood we had this delicious fare and plenty of it。 When a man comes out of the mills he wants quantity as well as quality。 We had both at the Bucket of Blood； and whenever a man got knocked out by a fist and was carted away in the ambulance； the next man on the waiting list was voted into our club to fill the vacancy。 We had what is called 〃family reach〃 at the table （both in feeding and fighting）。 Each man cut off a big quivering hunk of roast pork or greasy beef and passed the platter to his neighbor。 The landlady stood behind the chairs and directed two colored girls to pour coffee into each cup as it was emptied。
These cups were not china cups with little handles such as you use in your home。 They were big 〃ironstone〃 bowls the size of beer schooners； such as we used to see pictured at 〃Schmiddy's Place；〃 with the legend； 〃Largest In The City； 5c。〃 （How some of us would like to see those signs once more！） To prevent the handles from being broken off； these cups were made without handles。 They were so thick that you could drop them on the floor and not damage the cups。 When one man hit another on the head with this fragile china； the skull cracked before the teacup did。 The 〃family reach〃 which we developed in helping ourselves to food； was sometimes used in reaching across the table and felling a man with a blow on the chin。 Kipling has described this hale and hearty type of strong man's home in Fulta Fisher's Boarding… House where sailors rested from the sea。
〃A play of shadows on the wall；
A knife thrust unawares
And Hans came down （as cattle fall）；
Across the broken chairs。〃
But the boarders did not fight with knives at the Bucket of Blood。 Knifing is not an American game。 We fought with fists； coffee cups and pieces of furniture； after the furniture went to pieces。 We were not fighting to make the world safe for democracy； although we were the most democratic fellows in the world。 We slept two to a bed； four to a room。 Not always the same four； for like soldiers on the firing line； some comrade was missing after every battle。
These fights started in friendly banter。 One fellow would begin teasing another about his girl。 The whole table would take it up； every man doing his best to insult and enrage the victim。 It was all fun until some fellow's temper broke under the strain。 Then a rush； and a few wild swings that missed。 Then the thud of a blow that connected； and the fight was over。 These men had arms with the strength of a horse's leg； and as soon as their 〃kick〃 struck solid flesh； the man hit was knocked out。 He wouldn't be back for supper； but the rest of us would； without having our appetites disturbed in the least。 I didn't like these methods； but if the boys did I was not going to complain。
My practice of studying at night offended my roommates。 The lamplight got in their eyes。 There were three fellows in the room besides myself。 For several nights they advised me to 〃cut out the higher education； douse that light and come to bed。〃 Finally they spoke about it in the daytime。 〃Majority rules；〃 they said； 〃and there's three of us against you。 We can't sleep while you have that lamp burning。 The light keeps us awake and it also makes the room so hot that the devil couldn't stand it。 If you stay up reading to…night we'll give you the bum's rush。〃
I was so interested in my books that I couldn't help lingering with them after the other fellows went to bed。 Everything grew quiet。 Suddenly six hands sized me and flung me out the window。 It was a second…story window and I carried the screen with me。 But as it was full of air holes it didn't make a very competent parachute。 I landed with a thud on the roof of the woodshed； which； being old and soft with southern moss； caved in and carried me to the ground belowalive。 The fellows up above threw my books out the window； aiming them at my head。 They threw me my hat and coat and my valise； and I departed from the Bucket of Blood； and took up my abode at 〃The Greasy Spoon。〃
CHAPTER XXVI
A GRUB REFORMER PUTS US OUT OF GRUB
The Greasy Spoon isn't an appetizing name； not appetizing to men who live a sedentary life。 But it was meant as a lure to men who live by muscular toil。 It sounded good to us mill workers for； like Eskimos； we craved much fat in our diet。 We were great muscular machines； and fat was the fuel for our engines。 Muckraking was just beginning in those days； and a prying reformer came to live for a while at the Greasy Spoon。 He told us that so much grease in our food would kill us。 We were ignorant of dietetics； all we knew was that our stomachs cried for plenty of fat。 The reformer said that our landlady fed us much fat meat because it was the cheapest food she could buy。 Milk； eggs and fruits would cost more； and so this greedy cruel woman was lining her pocket at the expense of our lives。
The landlady was a kindly person； and she took the reformer's advice。 She banished the fat pork； and supplied the table with other food substitutes； but she was generous and gave us plenty of them。 We ate this reformed food and found we were growing weaker every day at the puddling furnace。 We got the blues and became sullen。 Gradually all laughter ceased in that boarding… house。 We even felt too low to fight。 At the end of two weeks there was one general cry： 〃Hog fat； and plenty of it！〃 Our engines had run out of fuel； and now we knew what we needed。 We were so crazy for bacon that if a hog had crossed our path we would have leaped on him like a lion and eaten him alive。
Fat came back to the table； and the Greasy Spoon again rang with laughter。 How foolish that reformer was！ He did no work himself and was a dyspeptic。 He tried to force his diet upon us； and he made us as weak as he was。 How many reformers there are who are trying to reshape the world to fit their own weakness。 I never knew a theorist who wasn't a sick man。
To…day we understand that we can't run a motor…car after the gasoline is played out。 The burning of the oil in the engine gives the power。 The burning of fats in the muscles gives the laborer his power。 Sugar and starches are the next best things to fat； and that's why we could eat the thick slabs of sweet pie。 We relished it well and have burned it all up in our labor in the mills。 We came out with that healthy sparkle that dyspeptics never know。
When we realized that the reformer didn't know what he was talking about； and that in his effort to help us he was hurting us； we saw he was our enemy； and we gave all of his ideas the 〃horse laugh。〃 His theory that the boarding…house keepers were in a conspiracy to rob the workers by feeding them pork instead of pineapples turned out to be much like all the 〃capitalist conspiracies〃 in Comrade Bannerman's pamphlets。 I am glad I have lived in a world of facts； and that I went therefrom to the world of books。 For I have found there is much falsehood taught in books。 But life won't tell a fellow any lies。
A man who knows only books may believe that by writing a new prescription he can cure the world of what ails it。 A man who knows life knows that the world is not sick。 Give it plenty of food and a chance to work and it will have perfect digestion。
CHAPTER XXVII
THE PIE EATER'S PARADISE
The Greasy Spoon was all right。 It was a peaceful place。 The landlady was Irish； and her motto was： 〃If there's any fighting to be done here I'll do it myself。〃 On the sideboard she kept a carving knife as big as a cavalry saber。 Whenever two men started a row； she grabbed this carving knife and with a scream like a panther she lit into them。
〃Stop yer fightin' before I hack your hands off！〃
The men were in deadly fear of her because they knew she meant business。 The sight of that swinging knife quelled every riot before it got started。 We fellows were like children in that we only thought of one thing at a time。 And when we saw the landlady's carving knife we forgot whatever else was on our minds。 This wo
