"It's all right," he assured her. "I'm married, and got two boys.
One of them's got his lungs touched, and she's with 'em down in
Arizona campin' out. The railroad helped with passes."
And as he went down the steps she wondered that so kind a man
should be in so madly cruel a world.
The Donahue boy threw in a spare evening paper, and Saxon found
half a column devoted to Billy. It was not nice. The fact that he
had stood up in the police court with his eyes blacked from some
other fray was noted. He was described as a bully, a hoodlum, a
rough-neck, a professional slugger whose presence in the ranks
was a disgrace to organized labor. The assault he had pleaded
guilty of was atrocious and unprovoked, and if he were a fair
sample of a striking teamster, the only wise thing for Oakland to
do was to break up the union and drive every member from the
city. And, finally, the paper complained at the mildness of the
sentence. It should have been six months at least. The judge was
quoted as expressing regret that he had been unable to impose a
six months' sentence, this inability being due to the condition
of the jails, already crowded beyond capacity by the many eases
of assault committed in the course of the various strikes.
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