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or the state will fall。
I put the good nails into kegs； and the headless nails and splinters were sent back to be melted into window weights。 Handling sharp nails is hard on the hands。 And the big half… dollar that I earned was not unmarred with blood。 Every pay…day I took home my entire earnings and gave them to mother。 All my brothers did the same。 Mother paid the household expenses； bought our clothing and allotted us spending money and money for Sunday… school。
This is a cynical age and I can imagine that I hear somebody snicker when I confess the fondness I had for the Sunday…school。 I don't want any one to think I am laying claim to the record of having always been a good little boy； nor that everything I did was wise。 No； I confess I did my share of deviltry； that some of my deeds were foolish； and （to use the slang of that time） I often got it in the neck。 Once I bantered a big fat boy to a fight。 He chased me and I ran and crawled into a place so narrow that I knew he couldn't follow me。 I crawled under the floor of a shed that was only about six inches above the ground。 Fatty was at least ten inches thick and I thought I was safe。 But he didn't try to crawl under the floor after me。 He went inside the shed and found that the boards of the floor sank beneath his weight like spring boards。 And there that human hippopotamus stood jumping up and down while he mashed me into the mud like a mole under a pile…driver。 I had showed that I had 〃a head on me like a nail〃 when I crawled under that floor and let Fatty step on me。 There is a saying； 〃You can't keep a good man down。〃 But Fatty kept me down； and so I must admit he was a better man than I was。 Some people say you should cheer for the under…dog。 But that isn't always fair。 The under…dog deserves our sympathy； the upper…dog must be a better dog or he couldn't have put the other dog down。 I give three cheers for the winner。 Any tribe that adopts the rule of always hissing the winner has found a real way to discourage enterprise。
I owned a part interest in some pigeons with a boy named Jack Thomas。 The pigeons' nests were in Jack's back yard。 He told me that my share of the eggs had rotted and his share had hatched； so that my interest in the young pigeons had died out and they were all his now。 I was sure it was a quibble and that he was cheating me。 It made me mad and I sneaked up to the pigeon loft and put a tiny pin prick in all the eggs in the nests。 This was invisible but it caused the eggs to rot as he said mine had； and I felt that this was only justice。 Turn about is fair play。
When Jack's eggs didn't hatch he suspected me； for I had been so foolish as to predict that his eggs wouldn't hatch。 And so he was sure I was responsible； although he didn't know how。 In fact his mother had seen me enter the barn and had told Jack about it。 One day when I went to the pasture to get the hotel keeper's cows； I ran into Jack hunting ground squirrels with his dog。 He set his dog chasing the cows and then ran away out of my reach。 The dog yelped at the cows heels and they galloped about the pasture in a panic。 I shouted to Jack to call off his dog or there would be trouble the next time I met him。 But Jack； who was out of reach； shouted encouragement instead。 Round and round the cattle raced with that howling dog scaring them into fits。 At last the dog tired of the fun and trotted off to join Jack； who was disappearing over the hill。 I then tried to round up the cows and get them out of the pasture。 But the brutes were wet with sweat and as wild as deer。 I saw that they could not be milked in that condition and felt that Jack's conduct was outrageous。 He had not only made trouble for me； he had injured the hotel keeper。 There would be no milk that night fit to be used。
I started straight for Jack's home to tell his mother of his lawless act。 As I went along； I turned the case over in my mind； and the case grew stronger and stronger all the time。 Before I reached Jack's door I had； satisfied myself that his mother would be shocked at the news and would at once cut a big switch to give Jack the licking he deserved。
But when I began to tell Mrs。 Thomas of her son's crime； she sided with Jack and wouldn't listen to me。 〃Don't come to me with your troubles； you nasty little whiffet；〃 she cried。 〃You started the whole thing when you sneaked in and ruined Jack's pigeon eggs。 Now that you've got the worst of it you come here with your tattle…tales。 You ought to be ashamed to show your face〃 She had become so threatening that I turned and ran。 My whole case had gone to pieces on her sharp tongue like a toy balloon pricked with a pin。 I had been blowing it up until it got so big I couldn't see anything else。 It burst right in my face； and there wasn't even a scrap of rubber to tell where it had been。
This taught me one of the best lessons I ever learned。 By looking only at his side of a case a man can kid himself into thinking that he is wholly right； that his cause is greater than himself and represents the rights of the entire community。 But a counter…blast from the other side will deflate his balloon in a second and he'll come down to earth without even a parachute to soften the jolt when he lands。
I learned that blood is not only thicker than water； but it is thicker than curdled milk； and you can't line up a mother against her own child even if he chased the cows until they got so wild they gave strawberry pop instead of milk。 Any argument that goes contrary to human nature has struck a snag before it is started。 A man must come into court with clean hands。 I had started by rotting the other fellow's eggs and he finished by souring my milk。 I wanted justice and I got it； but I didn't recognize it when it landed on me with all four feet。 Chickens come home to roost； and my pigeons had found a nesting…place on my anatomy； and the spot they had chosen was right in the neck。
CHAPTER XIII
SCENE IN A ROLLING MILL
The rolling mill where father worked was Life's Big Circus tent to me； and like a kid escaped from school； eager to get past the tent flap and mingle with the clowns and elephants； I chucked my job sorting nails when I found an opening for a youngster in the rolling mill。 Every puddler has a helper。 Old men have both a helper and a boy。 I got a place with an old man； and so at the age of twelve I was part of the Big Show whose performance is continuous； whose fire…eaters have real flame to contend with； and whose snake…charmers risk their lives in handling great hissing； twisting red…hot serpents of angry iron。
In this mill there is a constant din by day and night。 Patches of white heat glare from the opened furnace doors like the teeth of some great dark； dingy devil grinning across the smoky vapors of the Pit。 Half naked； soot…smeared fellows fight the furnace hearths with hooks； rabbles and paddles。 Their scowling faces are lit with fire； like sailors manning their guns in a night fight when a blazing fire ship is bearing down upon them。 The sweat runs down their backs and arms and glistens in the changing lights。 Brilliant blues and rays of green and bronze come from the coruscating metal； molten yet crystallizing into white…hot frost within the furnace puddle。 Flaming balls of woolly iron are pulled from the oven doors； flung on a two…wheeled serving tray； and rushed sputtering and flamboyant to the hungry mouth of a machine； which rolls them upon its tongue and squeezes them in its jaw like a cow mulling over her cud。 The molten slag runs down red…hot from the jaws of this squeezer and makes a luminous rivulet on the floor like the water from the rubber rollers when a washer…woman wrings out the saturated clothes。 Squeezed dry of its luminous lava； the white…hot sponge is drawn with tongs to the waiting rollerswhirling anvils that beat it into the shape they will。 Everywhere are hurrying men； whirring flywheels； moving levers of steam engines and the drum…like roar of the rolling machines； while here and there the fruits of this toil are seen as three or four fiery serpents shoot forth from different trains of rollers； and are carried away； wrought iron fit for bridging the creek； shoeing the mule and hooping the barrel that brings the farmers apples into town。
〃Life in these mills is a terrible life；〃 the reformers say。 〃Men are ground down to scrap and are thrown out as wreckage。〃 This may be so； but my life was spent in the mills and I failed to discover it。 I went in a stripling and grew into manhood with muscled arms big as a bookkeeper's legs。 The gases； they say； will destroy a man's lungs； but I worked all day in the mills and had wind enough left to toot a clarinet in the band。 I lusted for labor； I worked and I liked it。 And so did my forefathers for generations before me。 It is no job for weaklings； but neither was tree…felling； Indian fighting； road…making and the subduing of a wild continent to the hand of man as was done by the whole tribe of Americans for the sheer joy of conquering the wild。
There is something in man that drives him forward to do the world's work and build bigger for the coming generations； just as there is something in nature that causes new growth to come out of old dirt and new worlds to be continuall