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foreheads almost touching, pale, with bloodshot eyes. They were so angry that they could not utter a word. They were held firmly, their arms gripped from behind. Once or twice they tried to break free, twisting their bodies and dragging their comrades who were hanging on to them. Hooks and buttons went flying, their jackets and shirts slipped off, baring their shoulders. Around them was a ceaseless uproar.
    " The chisel! Take the chisel away from him, he ' ll smash his head in. Easy now, easy now, Piotr old man, or we ' ll break your arm! What are we playing around with them for! Drag them apart and put them under lock and key and there ' s an end to it. "
    With a superhuman effort Tiverzin suddenly shook off the men who clung to him and, breaking loose, dashed to the door. They started after him but, seeing that he had changed his mind, left him alone. He went out, slamming the door, and marched off without turning around. The damp autumn night closed in on him. " You try to help them and they come at you with a knife, " he muttered, striding on unconscious of his direction.
    This world of ignominy and fraud, in which an overfed lady had the impertinence to stare right through a crowd of working-men and where a drink-sodden victim of such an order found pleasure in torturing his comrades—this world was now more hateful to him than ever before. He hurried on as though his pace might hasten the time when everything on earth would be as rational and harmonious as it was now inside his feverish head. He knew that all their struggles in the last few days, the troubles on the line, the speeches at meetings, the decision to strike—not carried out yet but at least not cancelled—were separate stages on the great road lying ahead of them.
    But at the moment he was so worked up that he wanted to run all the way without stopping to draw breath. He did not realize where he was going with his long strides, but his feet knew very well where they were taking him.
    It was not until much later that Tiverzin learned of the decision, taken by the strike committee after he had left the underground shelter with Antipov, to begin the strike that very night. They decided then and there which of them was to go where and which men would be called out. At the moment when the whistle of the engine repair shop blew, as though coming from the very depths of Tiverzin ' s soul, hoarsely at first and then gradually clearing, a crowd was already moving from the depot and the freight yard. Soon it was joined by the men from the boiler room, who had downed tools at Tiverzin ' s signal.
    For many years Tiverzin thought that it was he alone who had stopped work and traffic on the line that night. Only much later, at the trial, when he was charged with complicity in the strike but not with inciting it, did he learn the truth.
    People ran out asking: " Where is everybody going? What ' s the signal for? " — " You ' re not deaf, " came from the darkness. " It ' s a fire. They ' re sounding the alarm. They want us to put it out. " — " Where ' s the fire? " — " There must be a fire or they wouldn ' t be sounding the alarm. "
    Doors banged, more people came out. Other voices were heard. " Fire? Listen to the ignorant lout! It ' s a strike, that ' s what it is, see? Let them get some other fools to do their dirty work. Let ' s go, boys. "
    More and more people joined the crowd. The railway workers were on strike.
7
    Tiverzin went home two days later, unshaven, drawn with lack of sleep, and chilled to the bone. Frost, unusual at this time of year, had set in the night before, and Tiverzin was not dressed for winter. The janitor, Gimazetdin, met him at the gate.
    " Thank you, Mr. Tiverzin, " he babbled in broken Russian. " You didn ' t let Yusupka come to harm. I will always pray for you. "
    " You ' re crazy, Gimazetdin, who ' re you calling Mister? Cut it out and say what you have to say quickly, you see how cold it is. "
    " Why should you be cold? You will