 
it was early spring. 
a railroad train chugged its way through the melting snow of rural 
illinois. 
it reached a small town where it stopped to pick up freight and passengers. 
a small group of farmers, the mud and slush of the unpaved main street 
still on their boots, climbed the steps of a slat sided passenger car. 
they chose seats together, in the nearly empty car, sat down, and talked 
quietly. 
they had hardly been seated when the engineer blew his whistle and the 
pot-bellied engine jerked its short line of cars away from the station. 
the conductor, looking important in his blue uniform, strode into the car. 
as he reached the first farmer, he held out his hand and said "ticket?" 
the farmer handed the conductor a carefully counted stack of soiled bills 
and said, "we didn"t get a chance to buy our tickets at the station. 
we"re all going to chicago, and we"ll buy our tickets from you." 
quickly counting the money, the conductor answered, "sorry, but this isn"t 
enough. 
it will cost you four dollars and twenty-cents more to go to chicago!" 
"wait a minute," said the farmer, with a look of anger and determination 
growing on his face, "we"re all going to chicago, and we"re all paying the same 
fare. 
the state legislature passed a law that said railroads couldn"t charge more 
than two and a half cents a mile to carry passengers. 
that's the law now, and that's all we will pay!" 
the conductor, now a little confused, answered, "this is a private 
railroad. 
it sets its own rates, and no bunch of hayseeds, in or out of the 
legislature, is going to set them for us! 
either you pay our fare or get the heck off." 
the whole group of farmers stood. 
