The Iron Dragon Never Sleeps Read Online Free PDF Page A

herback the kite string. “Maybe I say too much. It is getting late. Good-bye, Winnie Tucker.”
    He turned and ran away.
    Winnie pulled in the kite and walked slowly back to her parents.
    “Who was that, Winnie?” her father asked. “Chinese, wasn’t he?”
    “Yes, Papa. That was Lee, the Celestial I’ve met before.”
    “Lee seems to know about kites,” said her mother.
    Winnie nodded. “He knows a lot. He used to work for a miner—after his parents died. That’s how he learned English.” She paused for breath. “And, Papa, remember what I told you about those men in town? When I asked Lee about it, he got nervous. I think the Celestials are angry.”
    Her father sighed. “That may well be. But sometimes you can’t go looking for trouble. You have to wait for it to hit you over the head. Come on now. Let’s clean up. And then we’ll take that boat ride I promised.”
    Winnie enjoyed rowing on the lake. She made ripples in the water with her hand and splashed her father with an oar. But her attention also wandered. What kind of trouble could be coming? And when? Maybe she couldn’t do anything about it, but she kept thinking about Lee and the angry voices.

“E LI, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? ”
    Marjorie stopped pinning for a moment. She was making a new dress for Winnie, who was standing on a stool next to her. Winnie was draped in burgundy calico.
    The cloth was almost as red as her father’s face. Eli Tucker looked about ready to explode.
    “It’s an upside-down day, Marjorie. No, worse than that. It’s an inside-out day, too!”
    “Can I get down, Mama?” Winnie asked. Clearly the dressmaking was going to be delayed.
    “All right, Winnie. Now, Eli, calm down. Tell us what’s wrong?”
    “There’s a strike, Marjorie. Two thousand Chinamen are on strike. Can you believe it?”
    Winnie could.
This was what Lee was hinting about
, she thought.
    “I mean, we expected trouble on Saturday. There were a few men holding up signs. But this morning the tunnel drillers refused to work. Mr. Strobridge must have choked on a cigar when he heard the news. And Mr. Crocker, he probably swallowed one whole.”
    “Mr. Crocker and the other railroad owners may be getting what they deserve,” said Marjorie. “You’ve said the Chinese are paid twenty-six dollars a month while the others get thirty-five. And the Chinese have to pay for their own food, too.”
    “It’s strange food, Marjorie, you have to admit that.”
    “Strange to us, Papa,” said Winnie. “Not to them.”
    Her father folded his arms. “Well, that may be. But don’t try to confuse the issue with facts.”
    “And what is the issue?” asked Marjorie.
    “That strikes are not allowed. If the Chinese aren’t happy here, they can leave.”
    “Can they?” Marjorie wasn’t so sure. “I heard two men on the street bragging about the deserters they brought back to the railroad. They talked of beatings and whippings.”
    Her husband chewed his lip. “Some of the boysmay have gotten a little out of hand. That still doesn’t make a strike right.”
    “What are the Chinese demanding?”
    “They want the same pay and work hours as white workers. Mr. Crocker won’t stand for it. He’s coming out to take charge of the situation personally.”
    “Do you think there’ll be trouble?” Winnie asked. “Could anyone get hurt?”
    “The strike is already trouble, Winnie. If you mean dangerous trouble, I honestly don’t know. So far there’s been none. Most of the Chinese are holed up in the camps. They’re just lying around, drinking their tea. Our orders are to leave them alone for the present.”
    “And if those orders change?” asked Winnie.
    Her father sighed. “Then trouble will follow for sure.”
    Two days passed with no outward change in the situation. The Chinese stayed in their camps. There were meetings between Mr. Crocker and the strikers, but no progress was made.
    “They know we need them,” her father told Winnie at