Wait till you see 'em getting thin and white, and till you hear your little girl ask you why you all don't eat a little more and that she wants her dinner and you can't give it to her.

Wait till you see--at the same time that your family is dying for lack of bread--a hundred thousand acres of wheat--millions of bushels of food--grabbed and gobbled by the Railroad Trust, and then talk of moderation.

That talk is just what the Trust wants to hear.

It ain't frightened of that.

There's one thing only it does listen to, one thing it is frightened of--the people with dynamite in their hands,--six inches of plugged gaspipe.