And for
the war it had made steel, steel for cannon and for tanks, for ships
and for railroads. It had labored hard and well, and now all it
wanted was to be allowed to get back to normal things. It wanted
peace.
It said, in effect: "I have both fought and labored, sacrificed and
endured. Give me now my rest of nights, after a day's work. Give
me marriage and children. Give me contentment. Give me the things
I have loved long since, and lost awhile."
And because the city craved peace, it was hard to rouse it to its
danger. It was war-weary, and its weariness was not of apathy, but
of exhaustion. It was not yet ready for new activity.
Then, the same night that had seen Willy Cameron's encounter with
Akers, it was roused from its lethargy. A series of bomb outrages
shook the downtown district. The Denslow Bank was the first to go.
Willy Cameron, inspecting a cut lip in his mirror, heard a dull
explosion, and ran down to the street. There he was joined by Joe
Wilkinson, in trousers over his night shirt, and as they looked, a
dull red glare showed against the sky. Joe went back for more
clothing, but Willy Cameron ran down the street.
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