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“So’s the sheriff,” said Mack “At least, according to my sources Rarin’ to roust the strikers out of their tents”

“That would be a bloodbath”

Wally said, “The operators, and the Coal and Iron cops, and the Pinkertons, and the state militia wouldn’t mind a bloodbath one bit”

“But the h’s powers that be are afraid of a bloodbath,” said Mack, “account of all the woressives breathing down their necks They’re hinting they’ll negotiate”

“At least ’til after the ball,” said Wally

“What ball?”

“Pittsburgh Society ball Big annual la-di-da Industrialists looking for gentility Swells stea in on specials The mayor knows the newspapers would have the real ball — tycoons dancing on work to sit on the hotheads for a couple of days h”

Bleeding steam, the li man in a voluminous coat bounded down before it stopped

Wally Kisley said, “Look out, Isaac! If you think you have problems now, here comes the Boss”

Joseph Van Dorn spotted Bell’s wave fro, and doubled back to the private platforht an extra edition the newsboys were hawking inside He waved it in their faces

“Couldn’t help but notice that the city’s on fire Says here, we lost two men”

“Terry Fein and Mike Flannery,” said Bell “And a steamboat captain ent out on a limb for us”

“Us?” Van Dorn demanded “Who are ‘us’? Detectives or strikers?”

“Both,” said Isaac Bell “We ended up on the same side”

Instead of re with Bell, Joseph Van Dorn asked, “Driven there by Henry Clay?”