To katrina and me the miracle meant that my card had turned up, and we were full of joy and confidence. Doangivadam was coming, we were sure of it. I hurried to the Owl Tower and resumed my watch.

But it was another disappointment. The day wasted away, hour by hour, the night closed down, the moon rose, and still he did not come. At elevenⒶ I gave it up and came down heavy-hearted and stiff with the cold. We could not understand it. We talked it over, we turned it this way and that, it was of no use, the thing was incomprehensible. At last Katrina had a thought that seemed to throw light, and she uttered it, saying,

“Sometimes such things are delayed, for a wise purpose, a purpose hidden from us, and which it is not meet for us to inquire into: to punish Marseilles and convert it, the cholera was promised, by a revelation—but it did not come for two years.”

“Ah, dear, that is it,” I said, “I see it now. He will come in two years, but then it will be too late. The poor master! nothing can

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save him, he is lost. Before sunset to-morrow the strikers will have triumphed, and he will be a ruined man. I will go to bed; I wish I might never wake again.”

[ ] Ⓐ

About nine the next morning, Doangivadam arrived! Ah, if he could only have come a few short days before! I was all girl-boy again, I couldn't keep the tears back. At his leisure he had strolled over from the village inn, and he marched in among us, gay and jovial,Ⓐ plumed and gorgeous, and took everybody by surprise. Here he was in the midst, scattering salutations all around. He chucked old Frau SteinⒶ under the chin and said,

“Beautiful as ever, symbol of perpetual youth!” And he called Katrina his heart's desire and snatched a kiss; and fell into rapturesⒶ over Maria, and said she was just dazzling and lit up the mouldy castle like the sun; then he came flourishing in where the men were at their early beer and their rascal plans, now at the threshold of success; and he started to burst out with some more cordialities there, but not a man rose nor gave him a look of welcome, for they knew him, and that as soon as he found out how things stood he would side with the under dog in the fight, from nature and habit. He glanced about him, and his face sobered. He backed against an unoccupied table, and half-sitting upon its edge, crossed his ancles, and continued his examination of the faces. Presently he said, gravely,

“There's something the matter, here; what is it?”

The men sat glum and ugly, and no one answered. He looked toward me, and said,

“Tell me about it, lad.”

I was proud of his notice, and it so lifted my poor courage that although I dreaded the men and was trembling inside, I actually openedⒶ my mouth to begin; but before I could say anything 44 interposed and said, meekly,

“If you please, sir, it would get him into trouble with the men, and he is not the cause of the difficulty, but only I. If I may be allowed to explain it—”

Everybody was astonished to see poor 44 making so hardy a

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venture, but Katzenyammer glanced at him contemptuously and cut him short:

“Shut your mouth, if you please, and look to it that you don't open it again.”

“Suppose I ask him to open it,” said Doangivadam; “what will you do about it?”

“Close it for him—that's what.”

A steely light began to play in Doangivadam's eyes, and he called 44 to his side and said,

“Stand there. I'll take care of you. Now go on.”

The men stirred in their chairs and straightened up, their faces hardening—a sort of suggestion of preparation, of clearing for action, so to speak. There was a moment's pause, then the boy said in a level and colorless voice, like one who is not aware of the weight of his words,

“I am the new apprentice. Out of unmerited disapproval of me, and for no otherⒶ or honorable reason, these cowardly men conspired to ruin the master.”

The astonished men, their indignant eyes fixed upon the boy, began slowly to rise; said Doangivadam,

“They did, did they?”

“Yes,” said the boy.

“The—sons of bitches!” and every sword was out of its sheath in an instant, and the men on their feet.

“Come on!” shouted Doangivadam, fetching his long rapier up with a whiz and falling into position.

But the men hesitated, wavered, gave back, and that was the friend of the under dog's opportunity—he was on them like a cat. They recoveredⒶ, and braced up for a moment, but they could not stand against the man's impetuous assault, and had to give way before it and fall back, one sword after another parting from their hands with a wrenchⒶ and flying, till only two of the enemyⒶ remained armed—Katzenyammer and Binks—then the champion slipped and fell, and they jumped for him to impale him, and I turned sick at the sight; but 44 sprang forward and gripped their necks with his small hands and they sank to the floor limp and gasping. Doangivadam was up and on guard in a moment, but the

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battle was over. The men formally surrendered—except the two that lay there. It was as much as ten minutes before they recovered; then they sat up, looking weak and dazed and uncertain, and maybe thinking the lightning had struck again; but the fight was all out of them and they did not need to surrender; they only felt of their necks and reflected.

We victors stood looking down upon them, the prisoners of war stood grouped apart and sullen.

“How was that done?” said Doangivadam, wondering; “what was it done with?”

“He did it with his hands,” I said.

“With his hands? Let me see them, lad . . . . Why, they are soft and plump—just a girl's.Ⓐ Come, there's no strength in these paddies; what is the secret of this thing?”

So I explained:

“It isn't his own strength, sir; his master gives it him by magic—Balthasar the enchanter.”

So then he understood it.

He noticedⒶ that the men had fallen apart and were picking up their swords, and he ordered 44 to take the swords away from them and bring them to him. And he chuckled at the thought of what the boy had done, and said,

“If they resist, try those persuadersⒶ of yours again.”Ⓐ

But they did notⒶ resist. When 44Ⓐ brought himⒶ the swords he piled them on the table and said,

“Boy, you were not in the conspiracy; with that talent of yours, why didn't you make a stand?”

“There was no one to back me, sir.”

“There's something in that. But I'm here, now. It's backing enough, isn't it? You'll enlist for the war?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That settles it. I'll be the right wing of the army, and you'll be the left. We will concentrate on the conspiracy here and now. What is your name?”

The boy replied with his customary simplicity,

“No. 44, New Series 864,962.”

Doangivadam, who was inserting the point of his rapier into its

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sheath, suspended the operation where it was, and after a moment asked,

“What did I understand you to say?”

“No. 44, New Series 864,962.”

“Is—is that your name?”

“Yes, sir.”

“My—word, but it's a daisy! In the hurry of going to press, let's dock it to Forty-Four and put the rest on the standing-galley and let it go for left-over at half rates. Will that do?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come, now—range up, men, and plant yourselves! Forty-Four is going to resume his account of the conspiracy. Now go on, 44, and speak as frankly as you please.”Ⓐ

Forty-Four told the story, and was not interrupted. When it was finished Doangivadam was looking sober enough, for he recognized that the situationⒶ was of a seriousness beyond anything he had guessed—in fact it had a clearly hopeless look, so far as he could at the moment see. The men had the game in their hands; how could he, or any other,Ⓐ save the master from the ruin they had planned? That was his thought. The men read it in his face, and they looked the taunts which they judged it injudicious to put into words while their weapons were out of their reach. Doangivadam noted the looks and felt the sting of them as he sat trying to think out a course. He finished his thinkings, then spoke:

“The case stands like this. If the master dismissesⒶ 44—but he can't lawfully doⒶ it; that way out is blocked. If 44 remains, you refuse to work, and the master cannot fulfill his contract. That is ruin for him. You hold all the cards, that is evident.

Having conceded this, he began to reason upon the matter, and to plead for the master, the just master, the kind and blameless master, the generous master, now so sorely bestedⒶ, a master who had never wronged any one, a master who would be compassionate if he were in their place and they in his . . . . .Ⓐ

It was time to interrupt him, lest hisⒶ speech begin to produce effects, presently; and Katzenyammer did it.

“That's enough of that taffy—shut it off!” he said. “We stand solid; the man that weakens—let him look to himself!”

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The war-light began to rise in Doangivadam's eyes, and he said—

“You refuse to work. Very well, I can't make you, and I can't persuade you—but starvation can! I'll lock you into the shop, and put guards over you, and the man that breaks out shall have his reward.”

The men realized that the tables had been turned; they knew their man—he would keep his word; he had their swords, he was master of the situation. Even Katzenyammer's face went blank with the suddenness of the checkmate, and his handy tongue found nothing at the moment to say. By order the men moved by in single file and took up their march for the shop, followed by 44 and Doangivadam, who carried swords and maintained peace and order. Presently—

“Halt!” cried the commander. “There's a man missing. Where is Ernest Wasserman?”

It was found that he had slipped out while 44 was telling his story. But all right, he was heard coming, now.Ⓐ He came swaying and tottering in,Ⓐ sank into a chair, looking snow white,Ⓐ and said, “O, Lord!”

Everybody forgot the march, and crowded around him, eager to find out what dreadful thing had happened. But he couldn't answer questions, he could only moan and shiver and say—Ⓐ

“Don't ask me! I've been to the shop!Ⓐ O, lordy-lord, oh, lordy-lord!”

They couldn't get a thing out of him but that, he was that used up and gone to pieces. Then there was a break for the shop, Doangivadam in the lead, and the rest clattering after him through the dim and mustyⒶ corridors. When we arrived we saw a sight to turn a person to stone: there before our eyesⒶ the press was whirlingⒶ out printed sheets faster than a person could count them—just snowing them onto the pile, as you may say—Ⓐyet there wasn't a human creature in sight anywhere!

And that wasn'tⒶ all, nor the half. All the other printing-shop work was going briskly on—Ⓐyet nobody there, not a living thing to be seen! You would see a sponge get up and dip itself in a basin of water; see it sail along through the air; see it halt anⒶ inch above a

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galley of dead matter and squeeze itself and drench the galley, then toss itself aside; then an invisible expert would flirt the leads out of that matter so fast they fairly seemed to rain onto the imposing-stone, and you would see the matter contract and shrink together under the process; next you would see as much as five inches of that matter separate itself from the mass and rise in the air and stand upright; see it settle itself upon that invisible expert's ring-finger as upon a seat; see it move across the room and pause above a case and go to scattering itself like lightning into the boxes—raining again? yes, it was like that.Ⓐ And in half or three-quarters of no time you would see that five inches of matter scatter itself out and another five come and take its place; and in another minute or twoⒶ there would be a mountain of wet type in every box and the job finished.

At other cases you would see “sticks” hovering in the air above the space-box; see a line set, spaced, justified and the rule slipped over in the time it takes a person to snap his fingers; next minute the stick is full! next moment it is emptied into the galley! and in ten minutes the galley's full and the case empty! It made you dizzy toⒶ see these incredible things, these impossible things.

Yes, all the different kinds of work were racing along like Sam Hill—and all in a sepulchral stillness.Ⓐ The way the press was carrying on, you would think it was making noise enough for an insurrection, but in a minute you would find it was only your fancy, it wasn't producing a sound—then you would have that sick and chilly feeling a person always has when he recognizes that he is in the presence of creatures and forces not of this world.Ⓐ The invisibles were making up forms, locking up forms, unlocking forms, carrying new signatures to the press and removing the old: abundance of movement, you see, plenty of tramping to and fro, yet you couldn't hear a footfall; there wasn't a spoken word, there wasn't a whisper, there wasn't a sigh—oh, the saddest, uncanniest silence that ever was.

But at last I noticed that there really wasⒶ one industry lacking—a couple of them: no proofs were taken, no proofs were read! Oh, these were experts, sure enough! When they did a thing, they did it right, apparently, and it hadn't any occasion to be corrected.

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Frightened?Ⓐ We were paralyzed; weⒶ couldn't move a limb to get away, we couldn't even cross ourselves, we were so nerveless. And we couldn't look away, the spectacle of those familiar objects drifting about in the air unsupported, and doing their complex and beautiful work without visible help, was so terrifyinglyⒶ fascinating that we had to look and keep on looking, we couldn't help it.

At the end of half an hour the distribution stopped, and the composing. In turn, one industry after another ceased. Last of all, the churning and fluttering press's tremendous energies came to a stand-still; invisible hands removed the form and washed it, invisible hands scraped the bed and oiled it, invisible hands hung the frisket on its hook. Not anywhereⒶ in the place was any motion, any movement, now; there was nothing there but a soundless emptiness, a ghostly hush. This lasted during a few clammyⒶ moments, then came a sound from the furthest case—soft, subdued, but harsh, gritty, mocking, sarcastic: the scraping of a rule on a box-partition! and with it came half a dozen dim and muffled spectral chuckles, the dry and crackly laughterⒶ of the dead, as it seemed to me.

In about a minute something cold passed by. Not wind, just cold. I felt it on my cheek. It was one of those ghosts; I did not need any one to tell me that; it had that damp, tomby feel which you do not get from any live person. We all shrankⒶ together, so as not to obstruct the others. They straggled along by at their leisure, and we counted the frosts as they passed: eightⒶ.Ⓐ