For an instant; in that unusual environment, I could not place him, then I stepped up quickly and said: "Well, well, Friend Vedder." He looked around with astonishment at the man in the shabby clothes--but it was only for an instant.
"David Grayson!" he exclaimed, "and how did YOU get into the city ?" "Walked," I said.
"But I thought you were an incurable and irreproachable countryman! Why are you here ?" "Love o' life," I said; "love o' life." "Where are you stopping ?" I waved my hand.
"Where the road leaves me," I said.

"Last night I left my bag with some good friends I made in front of a livery stable and I spent the night in the mill district with a Socialist named Bill Hahn." "Bill Hahn!" The effect upon Mr.Vedder was magical.
"Why, yes," I said, "and a remarkable man he is, too." I discovered immediately that my friend was quite as much interested in the strike as Bill Hahn, but on the other side.

He was, indeed, one of the directors of the greatest mill in Kilburn--the very one which I had seen the night before surrounded by armed sentinels.

It was thrilling to me, this knowledge, for it seemed to plump me down at once in the middle of things--and soon, indeed, brought me nearer to the brink of great events than ever I was before in all my days.
I could see that Mr.Vedder considered Bill Hahn as a sort of devouring monster, a wholly incendiary and dangerous person.

So terrible, indeed, was the warning he gave me (considering me, I suppose an unsophisticated person) that I couldn't help laughing outright.
"I assure you--" he began, apparently much offended.
But I interrupted him.
"I'm sorry I laughed," I said, "but as you were talking about Bill Hahn, I couldn't help thinking of him as I first saw him." And I gave Mr.
Vedder as lively a description as I could of the little man with his bulging coat tails, his furry ears, his odd round spectacles.