America 1881: Legend of the West

"Mr. Cronin, why are you here today?"

In the new office of the Workers' Party, Dennis and his right-hand men stood ready.

His voice echoed in the empty "office".

Their original office at the dock was completely burned down by Chen Jianqiu.

Due to limited funds, Dennis had to rent another abandoned warehouse near the dock.

This warehouse is big, but the roof is broken and leaks every time it is windy or rainy.

But this does not trouble the workers.

After renovations and the addition of some tables and chairs, it became the new office of the California Workers Party.

"I said that my knighthood was occupied by Chinese laborers. Do you believe it?"

Cronin put his arms on the table in front of Dennis and stared directly at Dennis.

The two men behind Dennis looked at each other.

They could feel that the expressions on each other's faces were very strange, and they were both suppressing laughter.

The muscles in Dennis's face trembled.

"Clonin, if you really plan to humiliate me, please don't use such stupid words, okay?"

Dennis was very disdainful of Cronin's behavior.

If you have something to say, tell it in such a weird and roundabout way. Who should listen to it?

"What I said is true!" Cronin looked at Dennis with a serious expression.

Dennis turned his head, glanced at a clerk behind him, and asked knowingly:

"Are there any powerful Chinese labor groups in San Francisco?"

The clerk's eyes widened: "Are you talking about the X Court (a branch of the HONG Sect)?"

"Were you knocked over by the Chinese gang?" Dennis leaned back and leaned against the back of the chair, his face full of sarcasm.

"No, it was the Chinese workers who joined my knights. Then, they occupied our meeting. Ah, no, they should have gathered with guns."

Cronin's beard rose and fell.

He began to speak incoherently, and his usual eloquence was gone.

Because what happened yesterday and today was difficult for him to understand.

Dennis lost his patience.

"Cronin, I'm fed up with these lies you've been telling me. Did you take the wrong medicine today?"

"You come alone today, I won't make it difficult for you. If you dare to let your yellow-haired little brat treat us like other trade union organizations, believe me, I will definitely retaliate in kind!"

After saying that, he made a driving gesture to signal Cronin to leave quickly.

"It's him, that yellow-haired brat, he betrayed me, he."

Cronin wanted to say something else, but several people behind Dennis had already taken a few steps forward and surrounded him.

The bearded man was kicked out.

Standing alone at the gate of the Workers' Party, Cronin suddenly felt a little miserable.

When had Dennis ever been able to ride on his head like this? !

However, there was no time for him to wallow in self-pity.

Because, when the bearded man raised his head, he suddenly found that there were some Chinese workers near the dock and opposite him.

Although these Chinese workers are doing their own thing.

But he always felt that they were watching him from time to time.

The bearded man lowered his head and began to walk quickly.

His pace became faster and faster, and after a few steps, he turned into a run.

Ten minutes later, Cronin stopped at the entrance of an alley, panting.

He couldn't remember how many times he had run away today.

These damn Chinese seem to be determined to kill themselves!

what to do? what to do?

no solution anymore! Just call the police!

Although Cronin did not have a good relationship with the San Francisco police because of his frequent speeches and strikes.

But there is a benefit.

That is, they are very familiar.

He was a subject of surveillance registered with Sheriff Porter.

Therefore, when he saw Cronin stepping into the door of the police station from the window, Chief Porter jumped up from his chair with excitement.

Did this guy turn himself in because of his conscience?

"Chief Potter, please bear with me and listen to what I'm going to say next."

After arriving at Sheriff Porter's office, Cronin's first words made him frown.

"Last night, a group of Chinese workers occupied the meeting place of the Knights of Labor." Cronin calmed down and said slowly.

But his words were still rudely interrupted by Sheriff Porter.

"Tell me more about the meeting place. Where is it? What time is it? What kind of meeting are you going to have there in the evening?"

It seems that the Sheriff is more interested in this.

Cronin was stunned. He looked at the police chief in disbelief:

"Don't you want to know why those Chinese workers showed up collectively at the meeting place of the Knights of Labor?"

"I don't want to know." The police chief shook his head, "What extraordinary things can those honest Chinese workers do?"

"They joined the Knights of Labor!"

"So?" The Sheriff didn't quite understand Cronin's logic. "Are you here to show off to me? The team has grown again?"

"I've been sidelined! I've been subverted!" Cronin gasped hysterically, "My personal safety has been threatened!"

"Ah, that's great, oh, no, I mean, that's shocking."

Sheriff Bota was arrogant, but he could no longer hide the ecstasy in his heart.

This damn union has finally begun to fight within itself, and I don't have to worry all day long about how these people are causing chaos in the factory.

"Why don't you tell me about the meeting you had in the middle of the night." The police chief leaned forward.

Cronin felt so desperate that he slammed the Sheriff's desk:

"Those Chinese will destroy us! Do you understand? If you let them occupy the union, it will be a disaster!"

Sheriff Porter was startled, and then he shouted angrily at the door:

"Come here, put this madman in a cell and brainwash him!"

Several police officers rushed in and pushed Cronin to the ground.

They searched the bearded man, including the revolver in his clothes.

After a day of cooling off in a cell, Cronin was released.

There were several scars on his face, a black eye on his right eye, and his cheek was swollen.

The police returned the clothes and revolver to him, but confiscated the ammunition from his gun.

Cronin didn't know and didn't check.

He took the revolver with a blank look and stuffed it into his clothes.

He was now penniless and hungry; his hair and beard were as messy as straw.

Desperate, Cronin wandered aimlessly through the streets of San Francisco.

I don’t know if it’s because of hunger or the mental torture of the past few days.

He suddenly had an impulse that was considered imaginary.