It was in the latter part of July, when Jurgis was in Missouri, that he came upon the harvest work.  Here were crops that men had worked for three or four months to prepare, and of which they would lose nearly all unless they could find others to help them for a week or two.  So all over the land there was a cry for labor—­agencies were set up and all the cities were drained of men, even college boys were brought by the carload, and hordes of frantic farmers would hold up trains and carry off wagonloads of men by main force.  Not that they did not pay them well—­any man could get two dollars a day and his board, and the best men could get two dollars and a half or three.

The harvest-fever was in the very air, and no man with any spirit in him could be in that region and not catch it.  Jurgis joined a gang and worked from dawn till dark, eighteen hours a day, for two weeks without a break.  Then he had a sum of money that would have been a fortune to him in the old days of misery—­but what could he do with it now?  To be sure he might have put it in a bank, and, if he were fortunate, get it back again when he wanted it.  But Jurgis was now a homeless man, wandering over a continent; and what did he know about banking and drafts and letters of credit?  If he carried the money about with him, he would surely be robbed in the end; and so what was there for him to do but enjoy it while he could?  On a Saturday night he drifted into a town with his fellows; and because it was raining, and there was no other place provided for him, he went to a saloon.  And there were some who treated him and whom he had to treat, and there was laughter and singing and good cheer; and then out of the rear part of the saloon a girl’s face, red-cheeked and merry, smiled at Jurgis, and his heart thumped suddenly in his throat.  He nodded to her, and she came and sat by him, and they had more drink, and then he went upstairs into a room with her, and the wild beast rose up within him and screamed, as it has screamed in the Jungle from the dawn of time.  And then because of his memories and his shame, he was glad when others joined them, men and women; and they had more drink and spent the night in wild rioting and debauchery.  In the van of the surplus-labor army, there followed another, an army of women, they also struggling for life under the stern system of nature.  Because there were rich men who sought pleasure, there had been ease and plenty for them so long as they were young and beautiful; and later on, when they were crowded out by others younger and more beautiful, they went out to follow upon the trail of the workingmen.  Sometimes they came of themselves, and the saloon-keepers shared with them; or sometimes they were handled by agencies, the same as the labor army.  They were in the towns in harvest time, near the lumber camps in the winter, in the cities when the men came there; if a regiment were encamped, or a railroad or canal being made, or a great exposition getting ready, the crowd of women were on hand, living in shanties or saloons or tenement rooms, sometimes eight or ten of them together.