United States mail trains
were being interfered with; the Inter-State Commerce law was being
violated with impunity, and various other acts of vandalism and pillage
were being committed all over the land--and the municipal and state
authorities "winked the other eye."
Way out in one of the far western posts was a certain Lieutenant Jack
Brainerd, 31st U. S. Infantry, serving with his company. Jack was a big,
whole-souled, impulsive chap, and before his entrance to the military
academy, had been a pretty fair operator. In fact, being the son of a
general superintendent of one of the big trunk lines, he was quite
familiar with a railroad, and could do almost anything from driving a
spike, or throwing a switch to running an engine. The first three years
succeeding his graduation had been those of enervating peace; all of
which palled on the soul of Lieutenant Jack to a large degree. The
martial spirit beat high within his breast, and he wanted a scrap--he
wanted one badly.
The preliminary mutterings of this great strike had been heard for days,
but no one dreamed that anarchy was about to break loose with the
strength of all the fires of hell; and yet such was the case.
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