KING COAL

_A NOVEL_

BY

UPTON SINCLAIR

TO

MARY CRAIG KIMBROUGH

To whose persistence in the perilous task of tearing her husband'smanuscript to pieces, the reader is indebted for the absence of most ofthe faults from this book. 

CONTENTS

BOOK ONE

THE DOMAIN OF KING COAL

BOOK TWO

THE SERFS OF KING COAL

BOOK THREE

THE HENCHMEN OF KING COAL

BOOK FOUR

THE WILL OF KING COAL

INTRODUCTION

Upton Sinclair is one of the not too many writers who have consecratedtheir lives to the agitation for social justice, and who have alsoenrolled their art in the service of a set purpose. A great andnon-temporizing enthusiast, he never flinched from making sacrifices. Now and then he attained great material successes as a writer, butinvariably he invested and lost his earnings in enterprises by which hehad hoped to ward off injustice and to further human happiness. Thoughdisappointed time after time, he never lost faith nor courage to startagain. 

As a convinced socialist and eager advocate of unpopular doctrines, asan exposer of social conditions that would otherwise be screened awayfrom the public eye, the most influential journals of his country wereas a rule arraigned against him. Though always a poor man, though neverwilling to grant to publishers the concessions essential for manyeditions and general popularity, he was maliciously represented to be acarpet knight of radicalism and a socialist millionaire. He has severaltimes been obliged to change his publisher, which goes to prove that heis no seeker of material gain. 

Upton Sinclair is one of the writers of the present time most deservingof a sympathetic interest. He shows his patriotism as an American, notby joining in hymns to the very conditional kind of liberty peculiar tothe United States, but by agitating for infusing it with the elixir ofreal liberty, the liberty of humanity. He does not limit himself to adispassionate and entertaining description of things as they are. But inhis appeals to the honour and good-fellowship of his compatriots, heopens their eyes to the appalling conditions under which wage-earningslaves are living by the hundreds of thousands. His object is to betterthese unnatural conditions, to obtain for the very poorest a glimpse oflight and happiness, to make even them realise the sensation of cosywell-being and the comfort of knowing that justice is to be found alsofor them. 

This time Upton Sinclair has absorbed himself in the study of theminer's life in the lonesome pits of the Rocky Mountains, and hissensitive and enthusiastic mind has brought to the world an Americanparallel to GERMINAL, Emile Zola's technical masterpiece. 

The conditions described in the two books are, however, essentiallydifferent. While Zola's working-men are all natives of France, one meetsin Sinclair's book a motley variety of European emigrants, speaking aBabel of languages and therefore debarred from forming some sort ofassociation to protect themselves against being exploited by theanonymous limited Company. Notwithstanding this natural bar againstunited action on the part of the wage-earning slaves, the Company feelsfar from at ease and jealously guards its interests against any attemptof organising the men. 

A young American of the upper class, with great sympathy for thedowntrodden and an honest desire to get a first-hand knowledge of theirconditions in order to help them, decides to take employment in a mineunder a fictitious name and dressed like a working-man. His unusual wayof trying to obtain work arouses suspicion. He is believed to be aprofessional strike-leader sent out to organise the miners against theirexploiters, and he is not only refused work, but thrashed mercilessly. When finally he succeeds in getting inside, he discovers with growingindignation the shameless and inhuman way in which those who unearth theblack coal are being exploited. 

These are the fundamental ideas of the book, but they give but a faintnotion of the author's poetic attitude. Most beautifully is this shownin Hal's relation to a young Irish girl, Red Mary. She is poor, and herdaily life harsh and joyless, but nevertheless her wonderful grace isone of the outstanding features of the book. The first impression ofMary is that of a Celtic Madonna with a tender heart for littlechildren. She develops into a Valküre of the working-class, always readyto fight for the worker's right. 

The last chapters of the book give a description of the miners' revoltagainst the Company. They insist upon their right to choose a deputy tocontrol the weighing-in of the coal, and upon having the mines sprinkledregularly to prevent explosion. They will also be free to buy their foodand utensils wherever they like, even in shops not belonging to theCompany. 

In a postscript Sinclair explains the fundamental facts on which hiswork of art has been built up. Even without the postscript one could nothelp feeling convinced that the social conditions he describes are trueto life. The main point is that Sinclair has not allowed himself tobecome inspired by hackneyed phrases that bondage and injustice and theother evils and crimes of Kingdoms have been banished from Republics, but that he is earnestly pointing to the honeycombed ground on which thegreatest modern money-power has been built. The fundament of this poweris not granite, but mines. It lives and breathes in the light, becauseit has thousands of unfortunates toiling in the darkness. It lives andhas its being in proud liberty because thousands are slaving for it, whose thraldom is the price of this liberty. 

This is the impression given to the reader of this exciting novel. 

GEORG BRANDES. 

BOOK ONE

THE DOMAIN OF KING COAL

SECTION 1. 

The town of Pedro stood on the edge of the mountain country; astraggling assemblage of stores and saloons from which a number ofbranch railroads ran up into the canyons, feeding the coal-camps. Through the week it slept peacefully; but on Saturday nights, when theminers came trooping down, and the ranchmen came in on horseback and inautomobiles, it wakened to a seething life. 

At the railroad station, one day late in June, a young man alighted froma train. He was about twenty-one years of age, with sensitive features, and brown hair having a tendency to waviness. He wore a frayed and fadedsuit of clothes, purchased in a quarter of his home city where theHebrew merchants stand on the sidewalks to offer their wares; also asoiled blue shirt without a tie, and a pair of heavy boots which hadseen much service. Strapped on his back was a change of clothing and ablanket, and in his pockets a comb, a toothbrush, and a small pocketmirror. 

Sitting in the smoking-car of the train, the young man had listened tothe talk of the coal-camps, seeking to correct his accent. When he gotoff the train he proceeded down the track and washed his hands withcinders, and lightly powdered some over his face. After studying theeffect of this in his mirror, he strolled down the main street of Pedro, and, selecting a little tobacco-shop, went in. In as surly a voice as hecould muster, he inquired of the proprietress, "Can you tell me how toget to the Pine Creek mine?"

The woman looked at him with no suspicion in her glance. She gave thedesired information, and he took a trolley and got off at the foot ofthe Pine Creek canyon, up which he had a thirteen-mile trudge. It wasa sunshiny day, with the sky crystal clear, and the mountain airinvigourating. The young man seemed to be happy, and as he strode onhis way, he sang a song with many verses:

 "Old King Coal was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He made him a college all full of knowledge-- Hurrah for you and me!

 "Oh, Liza-Ann, come out with me, The moon is a-shinin' in the monkey-puzzle tree; Oh, Liza-Ann, I have began To sing you the song of Harrigan!

 "He keeps them a-roll, this merry old soul-- The wheels of industree; A-roll and a-roll, for his pipe and his bowl And his college facultee!

 "Oh, Mary-Jane, come out in the lane, The moon is a-shinin' in the old pecan; Oh, Mary-Jane, don't you hear me a-sayin' I'll sing you the song of Harrigan!

 "So hurrah for King Coal, and his fat pay-roll, And his wheels of industree! Hurrah for his pipe, and hurrah for his bowl-- And hurrah for you and me!

 "Oh, Liza-Ann, come out with me, The moon is a-shinin'--"

And so on and on--as long as the moon was a-shinin' on a college campus. It was a mixture of happy nonsense and that questioning with whichmodern youth has begun to trouble its elders. As a marching tune, thesong was a trifle swift for the grades of a mountain canyon; Warnercould stop and shout to the canyon-walls, and listen to their answer, and then march on again. He had youth in his heart, and love andcuriosity; also he had some change in his trousers' pocket, and a tendollar bill, for extreme emergencies, sewed up in his belt. If aphotographer for Peter Harrigan's General Fuel Company could have got asnap-shot of him that morning, it might have served as a "portrait of acoal-miner" in any "prosperity" publication. 

But the climb was a stiff one, and before the end the traveller becameaware of the weight of his boots, and sang no more. Just as the sun wassinking up the canyon, he came upon his destination--a gate across theroad, with a sign upon it:

PINE CREEK COAL CO. 

PRIVATE PROPERTY

TRESPASSING FORBIDDEN

Hal approached the gate, which was of iron bars, and padlocked. Afterstanding for a moment to get ready his surly voice, he kicked upon thegate and a man came out of a shack inside. 

"What do you want?" said he. 

"I want to get in. I'm looking for a job. "

"Where do you come from?"

"From Pedro. "

"Where you been working?"

"I never worked in a mine before. "

"Where did you work?"

"In a grocery-store. "

"What grocery-store?"

"Peterson & Co. , in Western City. "

The guard came closer to the gate and studied him through the bars. 

"Hey, Bill!" he called, and another man came out from the cabin. "Here'sa guy says he worked in a grocery, and he's lookin' for a job. "

"Where's your papers?" demanded Bill. 

Every one had told Hal that labour was scarce in the mines, and that thecompanies were ravenous for men; he had supposed that a workingman wouldonly have to knock, and it would be opened unto him. "They didn't giveme no papers, " he said, and added, hastily, "I got drunk and they firedme. " He felt quite sure that getting drunk would not bar one from a coalcamp. 

But the two made no move to open the gate. The second man studied himdeliberately from top to toe, and Hal was uneasily aware of possiblesources of suspicion. "I'm all right, " he declared. "Let me in, and I'llshow you. "

Still the two made no move. They looked at each other, and then Billanswered, "We don't need no hands. "

"But, " exclaimed Hal, "I saw a sign down the canyon--"

"That's an old sign, " said Bill. 

"But I walked all the way up here!"

"You'll find it easier walkin' back. "

"But--it's night!"

"Scared of the dark, kid?" inquired Bill, facetiously. 

"Oh, say!" replied Hal. "Give a fellow a chance! Ain't there some way Ican pay for my keep--or at least for a bunk to-night?"

"There's nothin' for you, " said Bill, and turned and went into thecabin. 

The other man waited and watched, with a decidedly hostile look. Halstrove to plead with him, but thrice he repeated, "Down the canyon withyou. " So at last Hal gave up, and moved down the road a piece and satdown to reflect. 

It really seemed an absurdly illogical proceeding, to post a notice, "Hands Wanted, " in conspicuous places on the roadside, causing a man toclimb thirteen miles up a mountain canyon, only to be turned off withoutexplanation. Hal was convinced that there must be jobs inside thestockade, and that if only he could get at the bosses he could persuadethem. He got up and walked down the road a quarter of a mile, to wherethe railroad-track crossed it, winding up the canyon. A train of"empties" was passing, bound into the camp, the cars rattling andbumping as the engine toiled up the grade. This suggested a solution ofthe difficulty. 

It was already growing dark. Crouching slightly, Hal approached thecars, and when he was in the shadows, made a leap and swung onto one ofthem. It took but a second to clamber in, and he lay flat and waited, his heart thumping. 

Before a minute had passed he heard a shout, and looking over, he sawthe Cerberus of the gate running down a path to the track, hiscompanion, Bill, just behind him. "Hey! come out of there!" they yelled;and Bill leaped, and caught the car in which Hal was riding. 

The latter saw that the game was up, and sprang to the ground on theother side of the track and started out of the camp. Bill followed him, and as the train passed, the other man ran down the track to join him. Hal was walking rapidly, without a word; but the Cerberus of the gatehad many words, most of them unprintable, and he seized Hal by thecollar, and shoving him violently, planted a kick upon that portion ofhis anatomy which nature has constructed for the reception of kicks. Halrecovered his balance, and, as the man was still pursuing him, he turnedand aimed a blow, striking him on the chest and making him reel. 

Hal's big brother had seen to it that he knew how to use his fists; henow squared off, prepared to receive the second of his assailants. Butin coal-camps matters are not settled in that primitive way, itappeared. The man halted, and the muzzle of a revolver came suddenlyunder Hal's nose. "Stick 'em up!" said the man. 

This was a slang which Hal had never heard, but the meaning wasinescapable; he "stuck 'em up. " At the same moment his first assailantrushed at him, and dealt him a blow over the eye which sent himsprawling backward upon the stones. 

SECTION 2. 

When Hal came to himself again he was in darkness, and was conscious ofagony from head to toe. He was lying on a stone floor, and he rolledover, but soon rolled back again, because there was no part of his backwhich was not sore. Later on, when he was able to study himself, hecounted over a score of marks of the heavy boots of his assailants. 

He lay for an hour or two, making up his mind that he was in a lock-up, because he could see the starlight through iron bars. He could hearsomebody snoring, and he called half a dozen times, in a louder andlouder voice, until at last, hearing a growl, he inquired, "Can you giveme a drink of water?"

"I'll give you hell if you wake me up again, " said the voice; afterwhich Hal lay in silence until morning. 

A couple of hours after daylight, a man entered his cell. "Get up, " saidhe, and added a prod with his foot. Hal had thought he could not do it, but he got up. 

"No funny business now, " said his jailer, and grasping him by the sleeveof his coat, marched him out of the cell and down a little corridor intoa sort of office, where sat a red-faced personage with a silver shieldupon the lapel of his coat. Hal's two assailants of the night beforestood nearby. 

"Well, kid?" said the personage in the chair. "Had a little time tothink it over?" "Yes, " said Hal, briefly. 

"What's the charge?" inquired the personage, of the two watchmen. 

"Trespassing and resisting arrest. "

"How much money you got, young fellow?" was, the next question. 

Hal hesitated. 

"Speak up there!" said the man. 

"Two dollars and sixty-seven cents, " said Hal--"as well as I canremember. "

"Go on!" said the other. "What you givin' us?" And then, to the twowatchmen, "Search him. "

"Take off your coat and pants, " said Bill, promptly, "and your boots. "

"Oh, I say!" protested Hal. 

"Take 'em off!" said the man, and clenched his fists. Hal took 'em off, and they proceeded to go through the pockets, producing a purse with theamount stated, also a cheap watch, a strong pocket knife, thetooth-brush, comb and mirror, and two white handkerchiefs, which theylooked at contemptuously and tossed to the spittle-drenched floor. 

They unrolled the pack, and threw the clean clothing about. Then, opening the pocket-knife, they proceeded to pry about the soles andheels of the boots, and to cut open the lining of the clothing. So theyfound the ten dollars in the belt, which they tossed onto the table withthe other belongings. Then the personage with the shield announced, "Ifine you twelve dollars and sixty-seven cents, and your watch andknife. " He added, with a grin, "You can keep your snot-rags. "

"Now see here!" said Hal, angrily. "This is pretty raw!"

"You get your duds on, young fellow, and get out of here as quick as youcan, or you'll go in your shirt-tail. "

But Hal was angry enough to have been willing to go in his skin. "Youtell me who you are, and your authority for this procedure?"

"I'm marshal of the camp, " said the man. 

"You mean you're an employé of the General Fuel Company? And you proposeto rob me--"

"Put him out, Bill, " said the marshal. And Hal saw Bill's fists clench. 

"All right, " he said, swallowing his indignation. "Wait till I get myclothes on. " And he proceeded to dress as quickly as possible; he rolledup his blanket and spare clothing, and started for the door. 

"Remember, " said the marshal, "straight down the canyon with you, and ifyou show your face round here again, you'll get a bullet through you. "

So Hal went out into the sunshine, with a guard on each side of him asan escort. He was on the same mountain road, but in the midst of thecompany-village. In the distance he saw the great building of thebreaker, and heard the incessant roar of machinery and falling coal. Hemarched past a double lane of company houses and shanties, whereslattern women in doorways and dirty children digging in the dust of theroadside paused and grinned at him--for he limped as he walked, and itwas evident enough what had happened to him. 

Hal had come with love and curiosity. The love was greatlydiminished--evidently this was not the force which kept the wheels ofindustry a-roll. But the curiosity was greater than ever. What was thereso carefully hidden inside this coal-camp stockade?

Hal turned and looked at Bill, who had showed signs of humour the daybefore. "See here, " said he, "you fellows have got my money, and you'veblacked my eye and kicked me blue, so you ought to be satisfied. BeforeI go, tell me about it, won't you?"

"Tell you what?" growled Bill. 

"Why did I get this?"

"Because you're too gay, kid. Didn't you know you had no business tryingto sneak in here?"

"Yes, " said Hal; "but that's not what I mean. Why didn't you let me inat first?"

"If you wanted a job in a mine, " demanded the man, "why didn't you go atit in the regular way?"

"I didn't know the regular way. "

"That's just it. And we wasn't takin' chances with you. You didn't lookstraight. "

"But what did you think I was? What are you afraid of?"

"Go on!" said the man. "You can't work me!"

Hal walked a few steps in silence, pondering how to break through. "Isee you're suspicious of me, " he said. "I'll tell you the truth, ifyou'll let me. " Then, as the other did not forbid him, "I'm a collegeboy, and I wanted to see life and shift for myself a while. I thought itwould be a lark to come here. "

"Well, " said Bill, "this ain't no foot-ball field. It's a coal-mine. "

Hal saw that his story had been accepted. "Tell me straight, " he said, "what did you think I was?"

"Well, I don't mind telling, " growled Bill. "There's union agitatorstrying to organise these here camps, and we ain't taking no chances with'em. This company gets its men through agencies, and if you'd went andsatisfied them, you'd 'a been passed in the regular way. Or if you'dwent to the office down in Pedro and got a pass, you'd 'a been allright. But when a guy turns up at the gate, and looks like a dude andtalks like a college perfessor, he don't get by, see?"

"I see, " said Hal. And then, "If you'll give me the price of a breakfastout of my money, I'll be obliged. "

"Breakfast is over, " said Bill. "You sit round till the pinyons getsripe. " He laughed; but then, mellowed by his own joke, he took a quarterfrom his pocket and passed it to Hal. He opened the padlock on the gateand saw him out with a grin; and so ended Hal's first turn on the wheelsof industry. 

SECTION 3. 

Hal Warner started to drag himself down the road, but was unable to makeit. He got as far as a brooklet that came down the mountain-side, fromwhich he might drink without fear of typhoid; there he lay the wholeday, fasting. Towards evening a thunder-storm came up, and he crawledunder the shelter of a rock, which was no shelter at all. His singleblanket was soon soaked through, and he passed a night almost asmiserable as the previous one. He could not sleep, but he could think, and he thought about what had happened to him. "Bill" had said that acoal mine was not a foot-ball field, but it seemed to Hal that the netimpress of the two was very much the same. He congratulated himself thathis profession was not that of a union organiser. 

At dawn he dragged himself up, and continued his journey, weak from coldand unaccustomed lack of food. In the course of the day he reached apower-station near the foot of the canyon. He did not have the price ofa meal, and was afraid to beg; but in one of the group of buildings bythe roadside was a store, and he entered and inquired concerning prunes, which were twenty-five cents a pound. The price was high, but so was thealtitude, and as Hal found in the course of time, they explained the oneby the other--not explaining, however, why the altitude of the price wasalways greater than the altitude of the store. Over the counter he saw asign: "We buy scrip at ten per cent discount. " He had heard rumours of astate law forbidding payment of wages in "scrip"; but he asked noquestions, and carried off his very light pound of prunes, and sat downby the roadside and munched them. 

Just beyond the power-house, down on the railroad track, stood a littlecabin with a garden behind it. He made his way there, and found aone-legged old watchman. He asked permission to spend the night on thefloor of the cabin; and seeing the old fellow look at his black eye, heexplained, "I tried to get a job at the mine, and they thought I was aunion organiser. "

"Well, " said the man, "I don't want no union organisers round here. "

"But I'm not one, " pleaded Hal. 

"How do I know what you are? Maybe you're a company spy. "

"All I want is a dry place to sleep, " said Hal. "Surely it won't be anyharm for you to give me that. "

"I'm not so sure, " the other answered. "However, you can spread yourblanket in the corner. But don't you talk no union business to me. "

Hal had no desire to talk. He rolled himself in his blanket and sleptlike a man untroubled by either love or curiosity. In the morning theold fellow gave him a slice of corn bread and some young onions out ofhis garden, which had a more delicious taste than any breakfast that hadever been served him. When Hal thanked his host in parting, the latterremarked: "All right, young fellow, there's one thing you can do to payme, and that is, say nothing about it. When a man has grey hair on hishead and only one leg, he might as well be drowned in the creek as losehis job. "

Hal promised, and went his way. His bruises pained him less, and he wasable to walk. There were ranch-houses in sight--it was like coming backsuddenly to America!

SECTION 4. 

Hal had now before him a week's adventures as a hobo: a genuine hobo, with no ten dollar bill inside his belt to take the reality out of hisexperiences. He took stock of his worldly goods and wondered if he stilllooked like a dude. He recalled that he had a smile which had fascinatedthe ladies; would it work in combination with a black eye? Having noother means of support, he tried it on susceptible looking housewives, and found it so successful that he was tempted to doubt the wisdom ofhonest labour. He sang the Harrigan song no more, but instead the wordsof a hobo-song he had once heard:

"Oh, what's the use of workin' when there's women in the land?"

The second day he made the acquaintance of two other gentlemen of theroad, who sat by the railroad-track toasting some bacon over a fire. They welcomed him, and after they had heard his story, adopted him intothe fraternity and instructed him in its ways of life. Pretty soon hemade the acquaintance of one who had been a miner, and was able to givehim the information he needed before climbing another canyon. 

"Dutch Mike" was the name this person bore, for reasons he did notexplain. He was a black-eyed and dangerous-looking rascal, and when thesubject of mines and mining was broached, he opened up the flood-gatesof an amazing reservoir of profanity. He was through with that game--Halor any other God-damned fool might have his job for the asking. It wasonly because there were so many natural-born God-damned fools in theworld that the game could be kept going. "Dutch Mike" went on to relatedreadful tales of mine-life, and to summon before him the ghosts of onepit-boss after another, consigning them to the fires of eternalperdition. 

"I wanted to work while I was young, " said he, "but now I'm cured, an'fer good. " The world had come to seem to him a place especiallyconstructed for the purpose of making him work, and every faculty hepossessed was devoted to foiling this plot. Sitting by a camp-fire nearthe stream which ran down the valley, Hal had a merry time pointing outto "Dutch Mike" how he worked harder at dodging work than other menworked at working. The hobo did not seem to mind that, however--it was amatter of principle with him, and he was willing to make sacrifices forhis convictions. Even when they had sent him to the work-house, he hadrefused to work; he had been shut in a dungeon, and had nearly died on adiet of bread and water, rather than work. If everybody would do thesame, he said, they would soon "bust things. "

Hal took a fancy to this spontaneous revolutionist, and travelled withhim for a couple of days, in the course of which he pumped him as todetails of the life of a miner. Most of the companies used regularemployment agencies, as the guard had mentioned; but the trouble was, these agencies got something from your pay for a long time--the bosseswere "in cahoots" with them. When Hal wondered if this were not againstthe law, "Cut it out, Bo!" said his companion. "When you've had a jobfor a while, you'll know that the law in a coal-camp is what your bosstells you. " The hobo went on to register his conviction that when oneman has the giving of jobs, and other men have to scramble for them, thelaw would never have much to say in the deal. Hal judged this a profoundobservation, and wished that it might be communicated to the professorof political economy at Harrigan. 

On the second night of his acquaintance with "Dutch Mike, " their"jungle" was raided by a constable with half a dozen deputies; for adetermined effort was being made just then to drive vagrants from theneighbourhood--or to get them to work in the mines. Hal's friend, whoslept with one eye open, made a break in the darkness, and Hal followedhim, getting under the guard of the raiders by a foot-ball trick. Theyleft their food and blankets behind them, but "Dutch Mike" made light ofthis, and lifted a chicken from a roost to keep them cheerful throughthe night hours, and stole a change of underclothing off a clothes-linethe next day. Hal ate the chicken, and wore the underclothing, thusbeginning his career in crime. 

Parting from "Dutch Mike, " he went back to Pedro. The hobo had told himthat saloon-keepers nearly always had friends in the coal-camps, andcould help a fellow to a job. So Hal began enquiring, and the second onereplied, Yes, he would give him a letter to a man at North Valley, andif he got the job, the friend would deduct a dollar a month from hispay. Hal agreed, and set out upon another tramp up another canyon, uponthe strength of a sandwich "bummed" from a ranch-house at the entranceto the valley. At another stockaded gate of the General Fuel Company hepresented his letter, addressed to a person named O'Callahan, who turnedout also to be a saloon-keeper. 

The guard did not even open the letter, but passed Hal in at sight ofit, and he sought out his man and applied for work. The man said hewould help him, but would have to deduct a dollar a month for himself, as well as a dollar for his friend in Pedro. Hal kicked at this, andthey bartered back and forth; finally, when Hal turned away andthreatened to appeal directly to the "super, " the saloon-keepercompromised on a dollar and a half. 

"You know mine-work?" he asked. 

"Brought up at it, " said Hal, made wise, now, in the ways of the world. 

"Where did you work?"

Hal named several mines, concerning which he had learned something fromthe hoboes. He was going by the name of "Joe Smith, " which he judgedlikely to be found on the payroll of any mine. He had more than a week'sgrowth of beard to disguise him, and had picked up some profanity aswell. 

The saloon-keeper took him to interview Mr. Alec Stone, pit-boss inNumber Two mine, who inquired promptly: "You know anything about mules?"

"I worked in a stable, " said Hal, "I know about horses. "

"Well, mules is different, " said the man. "One of my stable-men got thecolic the other day, and I don't know if he'll ever be any good again. "

"Give me a chance, " said Hal. "I'll manage them. "

The boss looked him over. "You look like a bright chap, " said he. "I'llpay you forty-five a month, and if you make good I'll make it fifty. "

"All right, sir. When do I start in?"

"You can't start too quick to suit me. Where's your duds?"

"This is all I've got, " said Hal, pointing to the bundle of stolenunderwear in his hand. 

"Well, chuck it there in the corner, " said the man; then suddenly hestopped, and looked at Hal, frowning. "You belong to any union?"

"Lord, no!"

"Did you _ever_ belong to any union?"

"No, sir. Never. "

The man's gaze seemed to imply that Hal was lying, and that his secretsoul was about to be read. "You have to swear to that, you know, beforeyou can work here. "

"All right, " said Hal, "I'm willing. "

"I'll see you about it to-morrow, " said the other. "I ain't got thepaper with me. By the way, what's your religion?"

"Seventh Day Adventist. "

"Holy Christ! What's that?"

"It don't hurt, " said Hal. "I ain't supposed to work on Saturdays, but Ido. "

"Well, don't you go preachin' it round here. We got our ownpreacher--you chip in fifty cents a month for him out of your wages. Come ahead now, and I'll take you down. " And so it was that Hal got hisstart in life. 

SECTION 5. 

The mule is notoriously a profane and godless creature; a blind alley ofNature, so to speak, a mistake of which she is ashamed, and which shedoes not permit to reproduce itself. The thirty mules under Hal's chargehad been brought up in an environment calculated to foster the worsttendencies of their natures. He soon made the discovery that the "colic"of his predecessor had been caused by a mule's hind foot in the stomach;and he realised that he must not let his mind wander for an instant, ifhe were to avoid this dangerous disease. 

These mules lived their lives in the darkness of the earth's interior;only when they fell sick were they taken up to see the sunlight and toroll about in green pastures. There was one of them called "DagoCharlie, " who had learned to chew tobacco, and to rummage in the pocketsof the miners and their "buddies. " Not knowing how to spit out thejuice, he would make himself ill, and then he would swear off fromindulgence. But the drivers and the pit-boys knew his failing, and wouldtempt "Dago Charlie" until he fell from grace. Hal soon discovered thismoral tragedy, and carried the pain of it in his soul as he went abouthis all-day drudgery. 

He went down the shaft with the first cage, which was very early in themorning. He fed and watered his charges, and helped to harness them. Then, when the last four hoofs had clattered away, he cleaned out thestalls, and mended harness, and obeyed the orders of any person olderthan himself who happened to be about. 

Next to the mules, his torment was the "trapper-boys, " and otheryoungsters with whom he came into contact. He was a newcomer, and sothey hazed him; moreover, he had an inferior job--there seemed to theirminds to be something humiliating and comic about the task of tendingmules. These urchins came from a score of nations of Southern Europe andAsia; there were flat-faced Tartars and swarthy Greeks and shrewd-eyedlittle Japanese. They spoke a compromise language, consisting mainly ofEnglish curse words and obscenities; the filthiness which their mindshad spawned was incredible to one born and raised in the sunlight. Theyalleged obscenities of their mothers and their grandmothers; also of theVirgin Mary, the one mythological character they had heard of. Poorlittle creatures of the dark, their souls grimed and smutted even morequickly and irrevocably than their faces!

Hal had been advised by his boss to inquire for board at "Reminitsky's. "He came up in the last car, at twilight, and was directed to a dimlylighted building of corrugated iron, where upon inquiry he was met by astout Russian, who told him he could be taken care of for twenty-sevendollars a month, this including a cot in a room with eight other singlemen. After deducting a dollar and a half a month for his saloon-keepers, fifty cents for the company clergyman and a dollar for the companydoctor, fifty cents a month for wash-house privileges and fifty centsfor a sick and accident benefit fund, he had fourteen dollars a monthwith which to clothe himself, to found a family, to provide himself withbeer and tobacco, and to patronise the libraries and colleges endowed bythe philanthropic owners of coal mines. 

Supper was nearly over at Reminitsky's when he arrived; the floor lookedlike the scene of a cannibal picnic, and what food was left was cold. Itwas always to be this way with him, he found, and he had to make thebest of it. The dining-room of this boarding-house, owned and managed bythe G. F. C. , brought to his mind the state prison, which he had oncevisited--with its rows of men sitting in silence, eating starch andgrease out of tin-plates. The plates here were of crockery half an inchthick, but the starch and grease never failed; the formula ofReminitsky's cook seemed to be, When in doubt add grease, and boil itin. Even ravenous as Hal was after his long tramp and his labour belowground, he could hardly swallow this food. On Sundays, the only time heate by daylight, the flies swarmed over everything, and he rememberedhaving heard a physician say that an enlightened man should be moreafraid of a fly than of a Bengal tiger. The boarding-house provided himwith a cot and a supply of vermin, but with no blanket, which was anecessity in the mountain regions. So after supper he had to seek outhis boss, and arrange to get credit at the company-store. They werewilling to give a certain amount of credit, he found, as this wouldenable the camp-marshal to keep him from straying. There was no law tohold a man for debt--but Hal knew by this time how much a camp-marshalcared for law. 

SECTION 6. 

For three days Hal toiled in the bowels of the mine, and ate and pursuedvermin at Reminitsky's. Then came a blessed Sunday, and he had a coupleof free hours to see the sunlight and to get a look at the North Valleycamp. It was a village straggling along more than a mile of the mountaincanyon. In the centre were the great breaker-buildings, the shaft-house, and the power-house with its tall chimneys; nearby were thecompany-store and a couple of saloons. There were severalboarding-houses like Reminitsky's, and long rows of board cabinscontaining from two to four rooms each, some of them occupied by severalfamilies. A little way up a slope stood a school-house, and anothersmall one-room building which served as a church; the clergymanbelonging to the General Fuel Company denomination. He was given the useof the building, by way of start over the saloons, which had to pay aheavy rental to the company; it seemed a proof of the innate perversityof human nature that even in spite of this advantage, heaven was losingout in the struggle against hell in the coal-camp. 

As one walked through this village, the first impression was ofdesolation. The mountains towered, barren and lonely, scarred with thewounds of geologic ages. In these canyons the sun set early in theafternoon, the snow came early in the fall; everywhere Nature's handseemed against man, and man had succumbed to her power. Inside the campsone felt a still more cruel desolation--that of sordidness andanimalism. There were a few pitiful attempts at vegetable-gardens, butthe cinders and smoke killed everything, and the prevailing colour wasof grime. The landscape was strewn with ash-heaps, old wire andtomato-cans, and smudged and smutty children playing. 

There was a part of the camp called "shanty-town, " where, amid miniaturemountains of slag, some of the lowest of the newly-arrived foreignershad been permitted to build themselves shacks out of old boards, tin, and sheets of tar-paper. These homes were beneath the dignity ofchicken-houses, yet in some of them a dozen people were crowded, men andwomen sleeping on old rags and blankets on a cinder floor. Here thebabies swarmed like maggots. They wore for the most part a single raggedsmock, and their bare buttocks were shamelessly upturned to the heavens. It was so the children of the cave-men must have played, thought Hal;and waves of repulsion swept over him. He had come with love andcuriosity, but both motives failed here. How could a man of sensitivenerves, aware of the refinements and graces of life, learn to love thesepeople, who were an affront to his every sense--a stench to hisnostrils, a jabbering to his ear, a procession of deformities to hiseye? What had civilisation done for them? What could it do? After all, what were they fit for, but the dirty work they were penned up to do? Sospoke the haughty race-consciousness of the Anglo-Saxon, contemplatingthese Mediterranean hordes, the very shape of whose heads wasobjectionable. 

But Hal stuck it out; and little by little new vision came to him. Firstof all, it was the fascination of the mines. They were old mines--veritablecities tunnelled out beneath the mountains, the main passages runningfor miles. One day Hal stole off from his job, and took a trip with a"rope-rider, " and got through his physical senses a realisation of thevastness and strangeness and loneliness of this labyrinth of night. InNumber Two mine the vein ran up at a slope of perhaps five degrees; inpart of it the empty cars were hauled in long trains by an endless rope, but coming back loaded, they came of their own gravity. This involvedmuch work for the "spraggers, " or boys who did the braking; it sometimesmeant run-away cars, and fresh perils added to the everyday perils ofcoal-mining. 

The vein varied from four to five feet in thickness; a cruelty of naturewhich made it necessary that the men at the "working face"--the placewhere new coal was being cut--should learn to shorten their stature. After Hal had squatted for a while and watched them at their tasks, heunderstood why they walked with head and shoulders bent over and armshanging down, so that, seeing them coming out of the shaft in thegloaming, one thought of a file of baboons. The method of getting outthe coal was to "undercut" it with a pick, and then blow it loose with acharge of powder. This meant that the miner had to lie on his side whileworking, and accounted for other physical peculiarities. 

Thus, as always, when one understood the lives of men, one came to pityinstead of despising. Here was a separate race of creatures, subterranean, gnomes, pent up by society for purposes of its own. Outside in the sunshine-flooded canyon, long lines of cars rolled downwith their freight of soft-coal; coal which would go to the ends of theearth, to places the miner never heard of, turning the wheels ofindustry whose products the miner would never see. It would makeprecious silks for fine ladies, it would cut precious jewels for theiradornment; it would carry long trains of softly upholstered cars acrossdeserts and over mountains; it would drive palatial steamships out ofwintry tempests into gleaming tropic seas. And the fine ladies in theirprecious silks and jewels would eat and sleep and laugh and lie atease--and would know no more of the stunted creatures of the dark thanthe stunted creatures knew of them. Hal reflected upon this, and subduedhis Anglo-Saxon pride, finding forgiveness for what was repulsive inthese people--their barbarous, jabbering speech, their vermin-riddenhomes, their bare-bottomed babies. 

SECTION 7. 

It chanced before many days that Hal got a holiday, relieving themonotony of his labours as stableman: an accidental holiday, notprovided for in his bargain with the pit-boss. Something went wrong withthe ventilating-course in Number Two, and he began to notice a headache, and heard the men grumbling that their lamps were burning low. Then, asmatters began to get serious, orders came to get the mules to thesurface. 

Which meant an amusing adventure. The delight of Hal's pets at seeingthe sunlight was irresistibly comic. They could not be kept from lyingdown and rolling on their backs in the cinder-strewn street; and whenthey were corralled in a distant part of the camp where actual grassgrew, they abandoned themselves to rapture like a horde of schoolchildren at a picnic. 

So Hal had a few free hours; and being still young and not cured of idlecuriosities, he climbed the canyon wall to see the mountains. As he wassliding down again, toward evening, a vivid spot of colour was paintedinto his picture of mine-life; he found himself in somebody's back yard, and being observed by somebody's daughter, who was taking in the familywash. It was a splendid figure of a lass, tall and vigorous, with thesort of hair that in polite circles is called auburn, and that flamingcolour in the cheeks which is Nature's recompense to people who livewhere it rains all the time. She was the first beautiful sight Hal hadseen since he had come up the canyon, and it was only natural that heshould be interested. It seemed to him that, so long as the girl stared, he had a right to stare back. It did not occur to him that he too was apleasing sight--that the mountain air had given colour to his cheeks anda shine to his gay brown eyes, while the mountain winds had blown hiswavy brown hair. 

"Hello, " said she, at last, in a warm voice, unmistakably Irish. 

"Hello yourself, " said Hal, in the accepted dialect; then he added, withmore elegance, "Pardon me for trespassing on your wash. "

Her grey eyes opened wider. "Go on!" she said. 

"I'd rather stay, " said Hal. "It's a beautiful sunset. "

"I'll move, so ye can see it better. " She carried her armful of clothesover and dropped them into the basket. 

"No, " said Hal, "it's not so fine now. The colours have faded. "

She turned and gazed at him again. "Go on wid ye! I been teased about myhair since before I could talk. "

"'Tis envy, " said Hal, dropping into her way of speech; and he came afew steps nearer, so that he could inspect the hair more closely. It layabove her brow in undulations which were agreeable to the decorativeinstinct, and a tight heavy braid of it fell over her shoulders andswung to her waist-line. He observed the shoulders, which were sturdy, obviously accustomed to hard labour; not conforming to accepted romanticstandards of femininity, yet having an athletic grace of their own. Theywere covered with a faded blue calico dress, unfortunately not entirelyclean; also, the young man noticed, there was a rent in one shoulderthrough which a patch of skin was visible. The girl's eyes, which hadbeen following his, became defiant; she tossed a piece of her washingover the shoulder, where it stayed through the balance of the interview. 

"Who are ye?" she demanded, suddenly. 

"My name's Joe Smith. I'm a stableman in Number Two. "

"And what were ye doin' up there, if a body might ask?" She lifted hergrey eyes to the bare mountainside, down which he had come sliding in ashower of loose stones and dirt. 

"I've been surveying my empire, " said he. 

"Your what?"

"My empire. The land belongs to the company, but the landscape belongsto him who cares for it. "

She tossed her head a little. "Where did ye learn to talk like ye do?"

"In another life, " said he--"before I became a stableman. Not in entireforgetfulness, but trailing clouds of glory did I come. "

For a moment she wrestled with this. Then a smile broke upon her face. "Sure, 'tis like a poetry-book! Say some more!"

"_O, singe fort, so suess und fein_!" quoted Hal--and saw her lookpuzzled. 

"Aren't you American?" she inquired; and he laughed. To speak a foreignlanguage in North Valley was not a mark of culture!

"I've been listening to the crowd at Reminitsky's, " he said, apologetically. 

"Oh! You eat there?"

"I go there three times a day. I can't say I eat very much. Could youlive on greasy beans?"

"Sure, " laughed the girl, "the good old pertaties is good enough forme. "

"I should have said you lived on rose leaves!" he observed. 

"Go on wid ye! 'Tis the blarney-stone ye been kissin'!"

"'Tis no stone I'd be wastin' my kisses on. "

"Ye're gettin' bold, Mister Smith. I'll not listen to ye. " And sheturned away, and began industriously taking her clothes from the line. But Hal did not want to be dismissed. He came a step closer. 

"Coming down the mountain-side, " he said, "I found something wonderful. It's bare and grim up there, but I came on a sheltered corner where thesun shone, and there was a wild rose. Only one! I thought to myself, 'Soroses grow, even in the loneliest parts of the world!'"

"Sure, 'tis a poetry-book again!" she cried. "Why didn't ye bring therose?"

"There is a poetry-book that tells us to 'leave the wild-rose on itsstalk. ' It will go on blooming there; but if one were to pluck it, itwould wither in a few hours. "

He had meant nothing more by this than to keep the conversation going. But her answer turned the tide of their acquaintance. 

"Ye can never be sure, lad. Perhaps to-night a storm may come and blowit to pieces. Perhaps if ye'd pulled it and been happy, 'twould 'a beenwhat the rose was for. "

Whatever of unconscious patronage there had been in the poet's attitudewas lost now in the eternal mystery. Whether the girl knew it--orcared--she had won the woman's first victory. She had caught the man'smind and pinned it with curiosity. What did this wild rose of the miningcamps mean?

The wild rose, apparently unconscious that she had said anythingepoch-making, was busy with the wash; and meantime Hal Warner studiedher features and pondered her words. From a lady of sophistication theywould have meant only one thing, an invitation; but in this girl's cleargrey eyes was nothing of wantonness, only pain. But what was this painin the face and words of one so young, so eager and alive? Was it themelancholy of her race, the thing one got in old folk-songs? Or was it anew and special kind of melancholy, engendered in mining-camps in thefar West of America?

The girl's countenance was as intriguing as her words. Her grey eyeswere set under sharply defined dark brows, which did not match her hair. Her lips also were sharply defined, and straight, almost without curves, so that it seemed as if her mouth had been painted in carmine upon herface. These features gave her, when she stared at you, an aspect vividand startling, bold, with a touch of defiance. But when she smiled, thered lips would curve into gentler lines, and the grey eyes would becomewistful, and seemingly darker in colour. Winsome indeed, but not simple, was this Irish lass!

SECTION 8. 

Hal asked the name of his new acquaintance, and she told him it was MaryBurke. "Ye've not been here long, I take it, " she said, "or ye'd haveheard of 'Red Mary. ' 'Tis along of this hair. "

"I've not been here long, " he answered, "but I shall hope to staynow--along of this hair! May I come to see you some time, Miss Burke?"

She did not reply, but glanced at the house where she lived. It was anunpainted, three room cabin, more dilapidated than the average, withbare dirt and cinders about it, and what had once been a picket-fence, now falling apart and being used for stove-wood. The windows werecracked and broken, and upon the roof were signs of leaks that had beencrudely patched. 

"May I come?" he made haste to ask again--so that he would not seem tolook too critically at her home. 

"Perhaps ye may, " said the girl, as she picked up the clothes basket. Hestepped forward, offering to carry it, but she did not give it up. Holding it tight, and looking him defiantly in the face, she said, "Yemay come, but ye'll not find it a happy place to visit, Mr. Smith. Ye'llhear soon enough from the neighbours. "

"I don't think I know any of your neighbours, " said he. 

There was sympathy in his voice; but her look was no less defiant. "Ye'll hear about it, Mr. Smith; but ye'll hear also that I hold me headup. And 'tis not so easy to do that in North Valley. "

"You don't like the place?" he asked; and he was amazed by the effect ofthis question, which was merely polite. It was as if a storm cloud hadswept over the girl's face. "I hate it! 'Tis a place of fear anddevils!"

He hesitated a moment; then, "Will you tell me what you mean by thatwhen I come?"

But "Red Mary" was winsome again. "When ye come, Mr. Smith, I'll not beentertaining ye with troubles. I'll put on me company manner, and we'llgo out for a nice walk, if ye please. "

All the way as he walked back to Reminitsky's to supper, Hal thoughtabout this girl; not merely her pleasantness to the eye, so unexpectedin this place of desolation, but her personality, which baffled him--thepain that seemed always just beneath the surface of her thoughts, thefierce pride which flashed out at the slightest suggestion of sympathy, the way she had of brightening when he spoke the language of metaphor, however trite. How had she come to know about poetry-books? He wanted toknow more about this miracle of Nature--this wild rose blooming on abare mountain-side!

SECTION 9. 

There was one of Mary Burke's remarks upon which Hal soon got light--herstatement that North Valley was a place of fear. He listened to thetales of these underworld men, until it came so that he shuddered withdread each time that he went down in the cage. 

There was a wire-haired and almond eyed Korean, named Cho, a"rope-rider" in Hal's part of the mine. He was one of those who hadcharge of the long trains of cars, called "trips, " which were hauledthrough the main passage-ways; the name "rope-rider" came from the factthat he sat on the heavy iron ring to which the rope was attached. Heinvited Hal to a seat with him, and Hal accepted, at peril of his job aswell as of his limbs. Cho had picked up what he fondly thought wasEnglish, and now and then one could understand a word. He pointed uponthe ground, and shouted above the rattle of the cars: "Big dust!" Halsaw that the ground was covered with six inches of coal-dust, while onthe old disused walls one could write his name in it. "Much blow-up!"said the rope-rider; and when the last empty cars had been shunted offinto the working-rooms, and he was waiting to make up a return "trip, "he laboured with gestures to explain what he meant. "Load cars. Bang!Bust like hell!"

Hal knew that the mountain air in this region was famous for itsdryness; he learned now that the quality which meant life to invalidsfrom every part of the world meant death to those who toiled to keep theinvalids warm. Driven through the mines by great fans, this air took outevery particle of moisture, and left coal dust so thick and dry thatthere were fatal explosions from the mere friction of loading-shovels. So it happened that these mines were killing several times as many menas other mines throughout the country. 

Was there no remedy for this, Hal asked, talking with one of hismule-drivers, Tim Rafferty, the evening after his ride with Cho. Therewas a remedy, said Tim--the law required sprinkling the mines with"adobe-dust"; and once in Tim's life, he remembered this law's beingobeyed. There had come some "big fellows" inspecting things, andprevious to their visit there had been an elaborate campaign ofsprinkling. But that had been several years ago, and now the apparatuswas stored away, nobody knew where, and one heard nothing aboutsprinkling. 

It was the same with precautions against gas. The North Valley mineswere especially "gassy, " it appeared. In these old rambling passages onesmelt a stink as of all the rotten eggs in all the barn-yards of theworld; and this sulphuretted hydrogen was the least dangerous of thegases against which a miner had to contend. There was the dreaded"choke-damp, " which was odourless, and heavier than air. Striking intosoft, greasy coal, one would open a pocket of this gas, a deposit laidup for countless ages, awaiting its predestined victim. A man might sinkto sleep as he lay at work, and if his "buddy, " or helper, happened tobe out of sight, and to delay a minute too long, it would be all overwith the man. And there was the still more dreaded "fire-damp, " whichmight wreck a whole mine, and kill scores and even hundreds of men. 

Against these dangers there was a "fire-boss, " whose duty was to gothrough the mine, testing for gas, and making sure that theventilating-course was in order, and the fans working properly. The"fire-boss" was supposed to make his rounds in the early morning, andthe law specified that no one should go to work till he had certifiedthat all was safe. But what if the "fire-boss" overslept himself, orhappened to be drunk? It was too much to expect thousands of dollars tobe lost for such a reason. So sometimes one saw men ordered to theirwork, and sent down grumbling and cursing. Before many hours some ofthem would be prostrated with headache, and begging to be taken out; andperhaps the superintendent would not let them out, because if a fewcame, the rest would get scared and want to come also. 

Once, only last year, there had been an accident of that sort. A youngmule-driver, a Croatian, told Hal about it while they sat munching thecontents of their dinner-pails. The first cage-load of men had gone downinto the mine, sullenly protesting; and soon afterwards some one hadtaken down a naked light, and there had been an explosion which hadsounded like the blowing up of the inside of the world. Eight men hadbeen killed, the force of the explosion being so great that some of thebodies had been wedged between the shaft wall and the cage, and it hadbeen necessary to cut them to pieces to get them out. It was them Japsthat were to blame, vowed Hal's informant. They hadn't ought to turnthem loose in coal mines, for the devil himself couldn't keep a Jap fromsneaking off to get a smoke. 

So Hal understood how North Valley was a place of fear. What tales theold chambers of these mines could have told, if they had had voices! Halwatched the throngs pouring in to their labours, and reflected thataccording to the statisticians of the government eight or nine of everythousand of them were destined to die violent deaths before a year wasout, and some thirty more would be badly injured. And they knew this, they knew it better than all the statisticians of the government; yetthey went to their tasks! Reflecting upon this, Hal was full of wonder. What was the force that kept men at such a task? Was it a sense of duty?Did they understand that society had to have coal and that some one hadto do the "dirty work" of providing it? Did they have a vision of afuture, great and wonderful, which was to grow out of their ill-requitedtoil? Or were they simply fools or cowards, submitting blindly, becausethey had not the wit nor the will to do otherwise? Curiosity held him, he wanted to understand the inner souls of these silent and patientarmies which through the ages have surrendered their lives to othermen's control. 

SECTION 10. 

Hal was coming to know these people; to see them no longer as a mass, to be despised or pitied in bulk, but as individuals, with individualtemperaments and problems, exactly like people in the world of thesunlight. Mary Burke and Tim Rafferty, Cho the Korean and Madvik theCroatian--one by one these individualities etched themselves into theforeground of Hal's picture, making it a thing of life, moving him tosympathy and fellowship. Some of these people, to be sure, were stuntedand dulled to a sordid ugliness of soul and body--but on the other hand, some of them were young, and had the light of hope in their hearts, andthe spark of rebellion. 

There was "Andy, " a boy of Greek parentage; Androkulos was his rightname--but it was too much to expect any one to get that straight in acoal-camp. Hal noticed him at the store, and was struck by his beautifulfeatures, and the mournful look in his big black eyes. They got totalking, and Andy made the discovery that Hal had not spent all his timein coal-camps, but had seen the great world. It was pitiful, theexcitement that came into his voice; he was yearning for life, with itsjoys and adventures--and it was his destiny to sit ten hours a day bythe side of a chute, with the rattle of coal in his ears and the dust ofcoal in his nostrils, picking out slate with his fingers. He was one ofmany scores of "breaker-boys. "

"Why don't you go away?" asked Hal. 

"Christ! How I get away? Got mother, two sisters. "

"And your father?" So Hal made the discovery that Andy's father had beenone of those men whose bodies had had to be cut to pieces to get themout of the shaft. Now the son was chained to the father's place, untilhis time too should come!

"Don't want to be miner!" cried the boy. "Don't want to get _kil-lid_!"

He began to ask, timidly, what Hal thought he could do if he were to runaway from his family and try his luck in the world outside. Hal, striving to remember where he had seen olive-skinned Greeks with bigblack eyes in this beautiful land of the free, could hold out no betterprospect than a shoe-shining parlour, or the wiping out of wash-bowls ina hotel-lavatory, handing over the tips to a fat padrone. 

Andy had been to school, and had learned to read English, and theteacher had loaned him books and magazines with wonderful pictures inthem; now he wanted more than pictures, he wanted the things which theyportrayed. So Hal came face to face with one of the difficulties ofmine-operators. They gathered a population of humble serfs, selectedfrom twenty or thirty races of hereditary bondsmen; but owing to theabsurd American custom of having public-schools, the children of thispopulation learned to speak English, and even to read it. So they becametoo good for their lot in life; and then a wandering agitator would getin, and all of a sudden there would be hell. Therefore in everycoal-camp had to be another kind of "fire-boss, " whose duty it was toguard against another kind of explosions--not of carbon monoxide, but ofthe human soul. 

The immediate duties of this office in North Valley devolved upon JeffCotton, the camp-marshal. He was not at all what one would have expectedfrom a person of his trade--lean and rather distinguished-looking, a manwho in evening clothes might have passed for a diplomat. But his mouthwould become ugly when he was displeased, and he carried a gun with sixnotches upon it; also he wore a deputy-sheriff's badge, to give himimmunity for other notches he might wish to add. When Jeff Cotton camenear, any man who was explosive went off to be explosive by himself. Sothere was "order" in North Valley, and it was only on Saturday andSunday nights, when the drunks had to be suppressed, or on Mondaymornings when they had to be haled forth and kicked to their work, thatone realised upon what basis this "order" rested. 

Besides Jeff Cotton, and his assistant, "Bud" Adams, who wore badges, and were known, there were other assistants who wore no badges, and werenot supposed to be known. Coming up in the cage one evening, Hal madesome remark to the Croatian mule-driver, Madvik, about the high price ofcompany-store merchandise, and was surprised to get a sharp kick on theankle. Afterwards, as they were on their way to supper, Madvik gave himthe reason. "Red-faced feller, Gus. Look out for him--company spotter. "

"Is that so?" said Hal, with interest. "How do you know?"

"I know. Everybody know. "

"He don't look like he had much sense, " said Hal--who had got his ideaof detectives from Sherlock Holmes. 

"No take much sense. Go pit-boss, say, 'Joe feller talk too much. Saystore rob him. ' Any damn fool do that. Hey?"

"To be sure, " admitted Hal. "And the company pays him for it?"

"Pit-boss pay him. Maybe give him drink, maybe two bits. Then pit-bosscome to you: 'You shoot your mouth off too much, feller. Git the hellout of here!' See?"

Hal saw. 

"So you go down canyon. Then maybe you go 'nother mine. Boss say, 'Whereyou work?' You say 'North Valley. ' He say, 'What your name?' You say, 'Joe Smith. ' He say, 'Wait. ' He go in, look at paper; he come out, say, 'No job!' You say, 'Why not?' He say, 'Shoot off your mouth too much, feller. Git the hell out of here!' See?"

"You mean a black-list, " said Hal. 

"Sure, black-list. Maybe telephone, find out all about you. You doanything bad, like talk union"--Madvik had dropped his voice andwhispered the word "union"--"they send your picture--don't get jobnowhere in state. How you like that?"

SECTION 11. 

Before long Hal had a chance to see this system of espionage at work, and he began to understand something of the force which kept thesesilent and patient armies at their tasks. On a Sunday morning he wasstrolling with his mule-driver friend Tim Rafferty, a kindly lad with apair of dreamy blue eyes in his coal-smutted face. They came to Tim'shome, and he invited Hal to come in and meet his family. The father wasa bowed and toil-worn man, but with tremendous strength in his solidframe, the product of many generations of labour in coal-mines. He wasknown as "Old Rafferty, " despite the fact that he was well under fifty. He had been a pit-boy at the age of nine, and he showed Hal a fadedleather album with pictures of his ancestors in the "oul' country"--menwith sad, deeply lined faces, sitting very stiff and solemn to havetheir presentments made permanent for posterity. 

The mother of the family was a gaunt, grey-haired woman, with no teeth, but with a warm heart. Hal took to her, because her home was clean; hesat on the family door-step, amid a crowd of little Rafferties withnewly-washed Sunday faces, and fascinated them with tales of adventurescribbed from Clark Russell and Captain Mayne Reid. As a reward he wasinvited to stay for dinner, and had a clean knife and fork, and a cleanplate of steaming hot potatoes, with two slices of salt pork on theside. It was so wonderful that he forthwith inquired if he might forsakehis company boarding-house and come and board with them. 

Mrs. Rafferty opened wide her eyes. "Sure, " exclaimed she, "do you thinkyou'd be let?"

"Why not?" asked Hal. 

"Sure, 't would be a bad example for the others. "

"Do you mean I _have_ to board at Reminitsky's?"

"There be six company boardin'-houses, " said the woman. 

"And what would they do if I came to you?"

"First you'd get a hint, and then you'd go down the canyon, and maybe usafter ye. "

"But there's lots of people have boarders in shanty-town, " objected Hal. 

"Oh! Them wops! Nobody counts them--they live any way they happen tofall. But you started at Reminitsky's, and 't would not be healthy forthem that took ye away. "

"I see, " laughed Hal. "There seem to be a lot of unhealthy thingshereabouts. "

"Sure there be! They sent down Nick Ammons because his wife bought milkdown the canyon. They had a sick baby, and it's not much you get in thisthin stuff at the store. They put chalk in it, I think; any way, you cansee somethin' white in the bottom. "

"So you have to trade at the store, too!"

"I thought ye said ye'd worked in coal-mines, " put in Old Rafferty, whohad been a silent listener. 

"So I have, " said Hal. "But it wasn't quite that bad. "

"Sure, " said Mrs. Rafferty, "I'd like to know where 'twas then--in thiscountry. Me and me old man spent weary years a-huntin'. "

Thus far the conversation had proceeded naturally; but suddenly it wasas if a shadow passed over it--a shadow of fear. Hal saw Old Raffertylook at his wife, and frown and make signs to her. After all, what didthey know about this handsome young stranger, who talked so glibly, andhad been in so many parts of the world?

"'Tis not complainin' we'd be, " said the old man. 

And his wife made haste to add, "If they let peddlers and the like ofthem come in, 'twould be no end to it, I suppose. We find they treat ushere as well as anywhere. "

"'Tis no joke, the life of workin' men, wherever ye try it, " added theother; and when young Tim started to express an opinion, they shut himup with such evident anxiety that Hal's heart ached for them, and hemade haste to change the subject. 

SECTION 12. 

On the evening of the same Sunday Hal went to pay his promised call uponMary Burke. She opened the front door of the cabin to let him in, andeven by the dim rays of the little kerosene lamp, there came to him animpression of cheerfulness. "Hello, " she said--just as she had said itwhen he had slid down the mountain into the family wash. He followed herinto the room, and saw that the impression he had got of cheerfulnesscame from Mary herself. How bright and fresh she looked! The old bluecalico, which had not been entirely clean, was newly laundered now, andon the shoulder where the rent had been was a neat patch of unfadedblue. 

There being only three rooms in Mary's home, two of these necessarilybed-rooms, she entertained her company in the kitchen. The room wasbare, Hal saw--there was not even so much as a clock by way of ornament. The only charm the girl had been able to give to it, in preparation forcompany, was that of cleanness. The board floor had been newly sandedand scrubbed; the kitchen table also had been scrubbed, and the kettleon the stove, and the cracked tea-pot and bowls on the shelf. Mary'slittle brother and sister were in the room: Jennie, a dark-eyed, dark-haired little girl, frail, with a sad, rather frightened face; andTommie, a round headed youngster, like a thousand other round headed andfreckle-faced boys. Both of them were now sitting very straight in theirchairs, staring at the visitor with a certain resentment, he thought. Hesuspected that they had been included in the general scrubbing. Inasmuchas it had been uncertain just when the visitor would come, they musthave been required to do this every night, and he could imagine familydisturbances, with arguments possibly not altogether complimentary toMary's new "feller. "

There seemed to be a certain uneasiness in the place. 

Mary did not invite her company to a seat, but stood irresolute; andafter Hal had ventured a couple of friendly remarks to the children, shesaid, abruptly, "Shall we be takin' that walk that we spoke of, Mr. Smith?"

"Delighted!" said Hal; and while she pinned on her hat before the brokenmirror on the shelf, he smiled at the children and quoted two lines fromhis Harrigan song--

 "Oh, Mary-Jane, come out in the lane, The moon is a-shinin' in the old pecan!"

Tommie and Jennie were too shy to answer, but Mary exclaimed, "'Tis in atin-can ye see it shinin' here!"

They went out. In the soft summer night it was pleasant to stroll underthe moon--especially when they had come to the remoter parts of thevillage, where there were not so many weary people on door-steps andchildren playing noisily. There were other young couples walking here, under the same moon; the hardest day's toil could not so sap theirenergies that they did not feel the spell of this soft summer night. 

Hal, being tired, was content to stroll and enjoy the stillness; butMary Burke sought information about the mysterious young man she waswith. "Ye've not worked long in coal-mines, Mr. Smith?" she remarked. 

Hal was a trifle disconcerted. "How did you find that out?"

"Ye don't look it--ye don't talk it. Ye're not like anybody or anythingaround here. I don't know how to say it, but ye make me think more ofthe poetry-books. "

Flattered as Hal was by this naïve confession, he did not want to talkof the mystery of himself. He took refuge in a question about the"poetry-books. " "I've read some, " said the girl; "more than ye'd havethought, perhaps. " This with a flash of her defiance. 

He asked more questions, and learned that she, like the Greek boy, "Andy, " had come under the influence of that disturbing Americaninstitution, the public-school; she had learned to read, and the prettyyoung teacher had helped her, lending her books and magazines. Thus shehad been given a key to a treasure-house, a magic carpet on which totravel over the world. These similes Mary herself used--for the ArabianNights had been one of the books that were loaned to her. On rainy daysshe would hide behind the sofa, reading at a spot where the light creptin--so that she might be safe from small brothers and sisters!

Joe Smith had read these same books, it appeared; and this seemedremarkable to Mary, for books cost money and were hard to get. Sheexplained how she had searched the camp for new magic carpets, finding a"poetry-book" by Longfellow, and a book of American history, and a storycalled "David Copperfield, " and last and strangest of all, another storycalled "Pride and Prejudice. " A curious freak of fortune--the prim andsentimentally quivering Jane Austen in a coal-camp in a far Westernwilderness! An adventure for Jane, as well as for Mary!

What had Mary made of it, Hal wondered. Had she revelled, shop-girlfashion, in scenes of pallid ease? He learned that what she had made ofit was despair. This world outside, with its freedom and cleanness, itspeople living gracious and worth-while lives, was not for her; she waschained to a scrub-pail in a coal-camp. Things had got so much worsesince the death of her mother, she said. Her voice had become dull andhard--Hal thought that he had never heard a young voice express suchhopelessness. 

"You've never been anywhere but here?" he asked. 

"I been in two other camps, " she said--"first the Gordon, and then EastRun. But they're all alike. "

"But you've been down to the towns?"

"Only for a day, once or twice a year. Once I was in Sheridan, and in achurch I heard a lady sing. "

She stopped for a moment, lost in this memory. Then suddenly her voicechanged--and he could imagine in the darkness that she had tossed herhead defiantly. "I'll not be entertainin' company with my troubles! Yeknow how tiresome that is when ye hear it from somebody else--like mynext-door neighbour, Mrs. Zamboni. D' ye know her?"

"No, " said Hal. 

"The poor old lady has troubles enough, God knows. Her man's not muchgood--he's troubled with the drink; and she's got eleven childer, andthat's too many for one woman. Don't ye think so?"

She asked this with a naïveté which made Hal laugh. "Yes, " he said, "Ido. "

"Well, I think people'd help her more if she'd not complain so! And halfof it in the Slavish language, that a body can't understand!" So Marybegan to tell funny things about Mrs. Zamboni and her other polyglotneighbours, imitating their murdering of the Irish dialect. Hal thoughther humour was naïve and delightful, and he led her on to more cheerfulgossip during the remainder of their walk. 

SECTION 13. 

But then, as they were on their way home, tragedy fell upon them. Hearing a step behind them, Mary turned and looked; then catching Hal bythe arm, she drew him into the shadows at the side, whispering to him tobe silent. The bent figure of a man went past them, lurching from sideto side. 

When he had turned and gone into the house, Mary said, "It's my father. He's ugly when he's like that. " And Hal could hear her quick breathingin the darkness. 

So that was Mary's trouble--the difficulty in her home life to which shehad referred at their first meeting! Hal understood many things in aflash--why her home was bare of ornament, and why she did not invite hercompany to sit down. He stood silent, not knowing what to say. Before hecould find the word, Mary burst out, "Oh, how I hate O'Callahan, thatsells the stuff to my father! His home with plenty to eat in it, and hiswife dressin' in silk and goin' down to mass every Sunday, and thinkin'herself too good for a common miner's daughter! Sometimes I think I'dlike to kill them both. "

"That wouldn't help much, " Hal ventured. 

"No, I know--there'd only be some other one in his place. Ye got to domore than that, to change things here. Ye got to get after them thatmake money out of O'Callahan. "

So Mary's mind was groping for causes! Hal had thought her excitementwas due to humiliation, or to fear of a scene of violence when shereached home; but she was thinking of the deeper aspects of thisterrible drink problem. There was still enough unconscious snobbery inHal Warner for him to be surprised at this phenomenon in a commonminer's daughter; and so, as at their first meeting, his pity was turnedto intellectual interest. 

"They'll stop the drink business altogether some day, " he said. He hadnot known that he was a Prohibitionist; he had become one suddenly!

"Well, " she answered, "they'd best stop it soon, if they don't want tohe too late. 'Tis a sight to make your heart sick to see the young ladscomin' home staggerin', too drunk even to fight. "

Hal had not had time to see much of this aspect of North Valley. "Theysell to boys?" he asked. 

"Sure, who's to care? A boy's money's as good as a man's. "

"But I should think the company--"

"The company lets the saloon-buildin'--that's all the company cares. "

"But they must care something about the efficiency of their hands!"

"Sure, there's plenty more where they come from. When ye can't work, they fire ye, and that's all there is to it. "

"And is it so easy to get skilled men?"

"It don't take much skill to get out coal. The skill is in keepin' yourbones whole--and if you can stand breakin' 'em, the company can standit. "

They had come to the little cabin. Mary stood for a moment in silence. "I'm talkin' bitter again!" she exclaimed suddenly. "And I promised yeme company manner! But things keep happening to set me off. " And sheturned abruptly and ran into the house. Hal stood for a moment wonderingif she would return; then, deciding that she had meant that as goodnight, he went slowly up the street. 

He fought against a mood of real depression, the first he had knownsince his coming to North Valley. He had managed so far to keep acertain degree of aloofness, that he might see this industrial worldwithout prejudice. But to-night his pity for Mary had involved him moredeeply. To be sure, he might be able to help her, to find her work insome less crushing environment; but his mind went on to thequestion--how many girls might there be in mining-camps, young andeager, hungering for life, but crushed by poverty, and by the burden ofthe drink problem?

A man walked past Hal, greeting him in the semi-darkness with a nod anda motion of the hand. It was the Reverend Spragg, the gentleman who wasofficially commissioned to combat the demon rum in North Valley. 

Hal had been to the little white church the Sunday before, and heard theReverend Spragg preach a doctrinal sermon, in which the blood of thelamb was liberally sprinkled, and the congregation heard where and howthey were to receive compensation for the distresses they endured inthis vale of tears. 

What a mockery it seemed! Once, indubitably, people had believed suchdoctrines; they had been willing to go to the stake for them. But nownobody went to the stake for them--on the contrary, the companycompelled every worker to contribute out of his scanty earnings towardsthe preaching of them. How could the most ignorant of zealots confrontsuch an arrangement without suspicion of his own piety? Somewhere at thehead of the great dividend-paying machine that was called the GeneralFuel Company must be some devilish intelligence that had worked it allout, that had given the orders to its ecclesiastical staff: "We want thepresent--we leave you the future! We want the bodies--we leave you thesouls! Teach them what you will about heaven--so long as you let usplunder them on earth!"

In accordance with this devil's program, the Reverend Spragg mightdenounce the demon rum, but he said nothing about dividends based on therenting of rum-shops, nor about local politicians maintained by companycontributions, plus the profits of wholesale liquor. He said nothingabout the conclusions of modern hygiene, concerning over-work as a causeof the craving for alcohol; the phrase "industrial drinking, " it seemed, was not known in General Fuel Company theology! In fact, when youlistened to such a sermon, you would never have guessed that the hearersof it had physical bodies at all; certainly you would never have guessedthat the preacher had a body, which was nourished by food produced bythe overworked and under-nourished wage-slaves whom he taught!

SECTION 14. 

For the most part the victims of this system were cowed and spoke oftheir wrongs only in whispers; but there was one place in the camp, Halfound, where they could not keep silence, where their sense of outragebattled with their fear. This place was the solar plexus of themine-organism, the centre of its nervous energies; to change the simile, it was the judgment-seat, where the miner had sentence passed uponhim--sentence either to plenty, or to starvation and despair. 

This place was the "tipple, " where the coal that came out of the minewas weighed and recorded. Every digger, as he came from the cage, madefor this spot. There was a bulletin-board, and on it his number, and therecord of the weights of the cars he had sent out that day. And everyman, no matter how ignorant, had learned enough English to read thosefigures. 

Hal had gradually come to realise that here was the place of drama. Mostof the men would look, and then, without a sound or glance about, wouldslouch off with drooping shoulders. Others would mumble tothemselves--or, what amounted to the same thing, would mumble to oneanother in barbarous dialects. But about one in five could speakEnglish; and scarcely an evening passed that some man did not breakloose, shaking his fist at the sky, or at the weigh-boss--behind thelatter's back. He might gather a knot of fellow-grumblers about him; itwas to be noted that the camp-marshal had the habit of being on hand atthis hour. 

It was on one of these occasions that Hal first noticed Mike Sikoria, agrizzle-haired old Slovak, who had spent twenty years in the mines ofthese regions. All the bitterness of all the wrongs of all these yearswelled up in Old Mike, as he shouted his score aloud: "Nineteen, twenty-two, twenty-four, twenty! Is that my weight, Mister? You want meto believe that's my weight?"

"That's your weight, " said the weigh-boss, coldly. 

"Well, by Judas, your scale is off, Mister! Look at them cars--them carsis big! You measure them cars, Mister--seven feet long, three and a halffeet high, four feet wide. And you tell me them don't go but twenty?"

"You don't load them right, " said the boss. 

"Don't load them right?" echoed the old miner; he became suddenlyplaintive, as if more hurt than angered by such an insinuation. "Youknow all the years I work, and you tell me I don't know a load? When Iload a car, I load him like a miner, I don't load him like a Jap, thatdon't know about a mine! I put it up--I chunk it up like a stack of hay. I load him square--like that. " With gestures the old fellow wasillustrating what he meant. "See there! There's a ton on the top, and aton and a half on the bottom--and you tell me I get only nineteen, twenty!"

"That's your weight, " said the boss, implacably. 

"But, Mister, your scale is wrong! I tell you I used to get my weight. Iused to get forty-five, forty-six on them cars. Here's my buddy--ask himif it ain't so. What is it, Bo?"

"Um m m-mum, " said Bo, who was a negro--though one could hardly be sureof this for the coal-dust on him. 

"I can't make a living no more!" exclaimed the old Slovak, his voicetrembling and his wizened dark eyes full of pleading. "What you think Imake? For fifteen days, fifty cents! I pay board, and so help me God, Mister--and I stand right here--I swear for God I make fifty cents. Idig the coal and I ain't got no weight, I ain't got nothing! Your scaleis wrong!"

"Get out!" said the weigh-boss, turning away. 

"But, Mister!" cried Old Mike, following behind him, and pouring hiswhole soul into his words. "What is this life, Mister? You work like aburro, and you don't get nothing for it! You burn your own powder--halfa dollar a day powder--what you think of that? Crosscut--and you getnothing! Take the skip and a pillar, and you get nothing! Brush--and youget nothing! Here, by Judas, a poor man, going and working his body tothe last point, and blood is run out! You starve me to death, I say! Ihave got to have something to eat, haven't I?"

And suddenly the boss whirled upon him. "Get the hell out of here!" heshouted. "If you don't like it, get your time and quit. Shut your face, or I'll shut it for you. "

The old man quailed and fell silent. He stood for a moment more, bitinghis whiskered lips nervously; then his shoulders sank together, and heturned and slunk off, followed by his negro helper. 

SECTION 15. 

Old Mike boarded at Reminitsky's, and after supper was over, Hal soughthim out. He was easy to know, and proved an interesting acquaintance. With the help of his eloquence Hal wandered through a score of camps inthe district. The old fellow had a temper that he could not manage, andso he was always on the move; but all places were alike, he said--therewas always some trick by which a miner was cheated of his earnings. Aminer was a little business man, a contractor who took a certain job, with its expenses and its chance of profit or loss. A "place" wasassigned to him by the boss--and he undertook to get out the coal fromit, being paid at the rate of fifty-five cents a ton for each ton ofclean coal. In some "places" a man could earn good money, and in othershe would work for weeks, and not be able to keep up with hisstore-account. 

It all depended upon the amount of rock and slate that was found withthe coal. If the vein was low, the man had one or two feet of rock totake off the ceiling, and this had to be loaded on separate cars andtaken away. This work was called "brushing, " and for it the minerreceived no pay. Or perhaps it was necessary to cut through a newpassage, and clean out the rock; or perhaps to "grade the bottom, " andlay the ties and rails over which the cars were brought in to be loaded;or perhaps the vein ran into a "fault, " a broken place where there wasrock instead of coal--and this rock must be hewed away before the minercould get at the coal. All such work was called "dead-work, " and it wasthe cause of unceasing war. In the old days the company had paid extrafor it; now, since they had got the upper hand of the men, they wererefusing to pay. And so it was important to the miner to have a "place"assigned him where there was not so much of this dead work. And the"place" a man got depended upon the boss; so here, at the very outset, was endless opportunity for favouritism and graft, for quarrelling, or"keeping in" with the boss. What chance did a man stand who was poor andold and ugly, and could not speak English good? inquired old Mike, withbitterness. The boss stole his cars and gave them to other people; hetook the weight off the cars, and gave them to fellows who boarded withhim, or treated him to drinks, or otherwise curried favour with him. 

"I work five days in the Southeastern, " said Mike, and when I work themfive days, so help me God, brother, if I don't get up out of this chair, fifteen cents I was still in the hole yet. Fourteen inches of rock! Andthe Mr. Bishop--that is the superintendent--I says, 'Do you paysomething for that rock?' 'Huh?' says he. 'Well, ' I says, 'if you don'tpay nothing for the rock, I don't go ahead with it. I ain't got no placeto put that rock. ' 'Get the hell out of here, ' says he, and when Istarted to fight he pull gun on me. And then I go to Cedar Mountain, andthe super give me work there, and he says, 'You go Number Four, ' and hesays, 'Rail is in Number Three, and the ties. ' And he says, 'I pay youfor it when you put it in. ' So I take it away and I put it in, and Iwork till twelve o'clock. Carried the three pair of rails and the ties, and I pulled all the spikes--"

"Pulled the spikes?" asked Hal. 

"Got no good spikes. Got to use old spikes, what you pull out of themold ties. So then I says, 'What is my half day, what you promise me?'Says he, 'You ain't dug no coal yet!' 'But, mister, ' says I, 'youpromise me pay to pull them spikes and put in them ties!' Says he, 'Company pay nothin' for dead work--you know that, ' says he, and that isall the satisfaction I get. "

"And you didn't get your half day's pay?"

"Sure I get nothin'. Boss do just as he please in coal mine. "

SECTION 16. 

There was another way, Old Mike explained, in which the miner was at themercy of others; this was the matter of stealing cars. Each miner hadbrass checks with his number on them, and when he sent up a loaded car, he hung one of these checks on a hook inside. In the course of the longjourney to the tipple, some one would change the check, and the car wasgone. In some mines, the number was put on the car with chalk; and howeasy it was for some one to rub it out and change it! It appeared to Halthat it would have been a simple matter to put a number padlock on thecar, instead of a check; but such an equipment would have cost thecompany one or two hundred dollars, he was told, and so the stealingwent on year after year. 

"You think it's the bosses steal these cars?" asked Hal. 

"Sometimes bosses, sometimes bosses' friend--sometimes company himselfsteal them from miners. " In North Valley it was the company, the oldSlovak insisted. It was no use sending up more than six cars in one day, be declared; you could never get credit for more than six. Nor was itworth while loading more than a ton on a car; they did not really weighthe cars, the boss just ran them quickly over the scales, and had ordersnot to go above a certain average. Mike told of an Italian who hadloaded a car for a test, so high that he could barely pass it under theroof of the entry, and went up on the tipple and saw it weighed himself, and it was sixty-five hundred pounds. They gave him thirty-five hundred, and when he started to fight, they arrested him. Mike had not seen himarrested, but when he had come out of the mine, the man was gone, andnobody ever saw him again. After that they put a door onto theweigh-room, so that no one could see the scales. 

The more Hal listened to the men and reflected upon these things, themore he came to see that the miner was a contractor who had noopportunity to determine the size of the contract before he took it on, nor afterwards to determine how much work he had done. More than that, he was obliged to use supplies, over the price and measurements of whichhe had no control. He used powder, and would find himself docked at theend of the month for a certain quantity, and if the quantity was wrong, he would have no redress. He was charged a certain sum for"black-smithing"--the keeping of his tools in order; and he would find adollar or two deducted from his account each month, even though he hadnot been near the blacksmith shop. 

Let any business-man in the world consider the proposition, thought Hal, and say if he would take a contract upon such terms! Would a manundertake to build a dam, for example, with no chance to measure theground in advance, nor any way of determining how many cubic yards ofconcrete he had to put in? Would a grocer sell to a customer whoproposed to come into the store and do his own weighing--and meantimelocking the grocer outside? Merely to put such questions was to show thepreposterousness of the thing; yet in this district were fifteenthousand men working on precisely such terms. 

Under the state law, the miner had a right to demand a check-weighman toprotect his interest at the scales, paying this check-weighman's wagesout of his own earnings. Whenever there was any public criticism aboutconditions in the coal-mines, this law would be triumphantly cited bythe operators; and one had to have actual experience in order to realisewhat a bitter mockery this was to the miner. 

In the dining-room Hal sat next to a fair-haired Swedish giant namedJohannson, who loaded timbers ten hours a day. This fellow was one whoindulged in the luxury of speaking his mind, because he had youth andhuge muscles, and no family to tie him down. He was what is called a"blanket-stiff, " wandering from mine to harvest-field and fromharvest-field to lumber-camp. Some one broached the subject ofcheck-weighmen to him, and the whole table heard his scornful laugh. Letany man ask for a check-weighman!

"You mean they would fire him?" asked Hal. 

"Maybe!" was the answer. "Maybe they make him fire himself. "

"How do you mean?"

"They make his life one damn misery till he go. "

So it was with check-weighman--as with scrip, and with company stores, and with all the provisions of the law to protect the miner againstaccidents. You might demand your legal rights, but if you did, it was amatter of the boss's temper. He might make your life one damn miserytill you went of your own accord. Or you might get a string of cursesand an order, "Down the canyon!"--and likely as not the toe of a boot inyour trouser-seat, or the muzzle of a revolver under your nose. 

SECTION 17. 

Such conditions made the coal-district a place of despair. Yet therewere men who managed to get along somehow, and to raise families andkeep decent homes. If one had the luck to escape accident, if he did notmarry too young, or did not have too many children; if he could manageto escape the temptations of liquor, to which overwork and monotonydrove so many; if, above all, he could keep on the right side of hisboss--why then he might have a home, and even a little money on depositwith the company. 

Such a one was Jerry Minetti, who became one of Hal's best friends. Hewas a Milanese, and his name was Gerolamo, which had become Jerry in the"melting-pot. " He was about twenty-five years of age, and what isunusual with the Italians, was of good stature. Their meeting tookplace--as did most of Hal's social experiences--on a Sunday. Jerry hadjust had a sleep and a wash, and had put on a pair of new blue overalls, so that he presented a cheering aspect in the sunlight. He walked withhis head up and his shoulders square, and one could see that he had fewcares in the world. 

But what caught Hal's attention was not so much Jerry as what followedat Jerry's heels; a perfect reproduction of him, quarter-size, also witha newly-washed face and a pair of new blue overalls. He too had his headup, and his shoulders square, and he was an irresistible object, throwing out his heels and trying his best to keep step. Since thelongest strides he could take left him behind, he would break into arun, and getting close under his father's heels, would begin keepingstep once more. 

Hal was going in the same direction, and it affected him like the musicof a military band; he too wanted to throw his head up and square hisshoulders and keep step. And then other people, seeing the grin on hisface, would turn and watch, and grin also. But Jerry walked on gravely, unaware of this circus in the rear. 

They went into a house; and Hal, having nothing to do but enjoy life, stood waiting for them to come out. They returned in the sameprocession, only now the man had a sack of something on his shoulder, while the little chap had a smaller load poised in imitation. So Halgrinned again, and when they were opposite him, he said, "Hello. "

"Hello, " said Jerry, and stopped. Then, seeing Hal's grin, he grinnedback; and Hal looked at the little chap and grinned, and the little chapgrinned back. Jerry, seeing what Hal was grinning at, grinned more thanever; so there stood all three in the middle of the road, grinning atone another for no apparent reason. 

"Gee, but that's a great kid!" said Hal. 

"Gee, you bet!" said Jerry; and he set down his sack. If some onedesired to admire the kid, he was willing to stop any length of time. 

"Yours?" asked Hal. 

"You bet!" said Jerry, again. 

"Hello, Buster!" said Hal. 

"Hello yourself!" said the kid. One could see in a moment that he hadbeen in the "melting-pot. "

"What's your name?" asked Hal. 

"Jerry, " was the reply. 

"And what's his name?" Hal nodded towards the man--

"Big Jerry. "

"Got any more like you at home?"

"One more, " said Big Jerry. "Baby. "

"He ain't like me, " said Little Jerry. "He's little. "

"And you're big?" said Hal. 

"He can't walk!"

"Neither can you walk!" laughed Hal, and caught him up and slung himonto his shoulder. "Come on, we'll ride!"

So Big Jerry took up his sack again, and they started off; only thistime it was Hal who fell behind and kept step, squaring his shouldersand flinging out his heels. Little Jerry caught onto the joke, andgiggled and kicked his sturdy legs with delight. Big Jerry would lookround, not knowing what the joke was, but enjoying it just the same. 

They came to the three-room cabin which was Both Jerrys' home; and Mrs. Jerry came to the door, a black-eyed Sicilian girl, who did not look oldenough to have even one baby. They had another bout of grinning, at theend of which Big Jerry said, "You come in?"

"Sure, " said Hal. 

"You stay supper, " added the other. "Got spaghetti. "

"Gee!" said Hal. "All right, let me stay, and pay for it. "

"Hell, no!" said Jerry. "You no pay!"

"No! No pay!" cried Mrs. Jerry, shaking her pretty head energetically. 

"All right, " said Hal, quickly, seeing that he might hurt theirfeelings. "I'll stay if you're sure you have enough. "

"Sure, plenty!" said Jerry. "Hey, Rosa?"

"Sure, plenty!" said Mrs. Jerry. 

"Then I'll stay, " said Hal. "You like spaghetti, Kid?"

"Jesus!" cried Little Jerry. 

Hal looked about him at this Dago home. It was a tome in keeping withits pretty occupant. There were lace curtains in the windows, evenshinier and whiter than at the Rafferties; there was an incrediblybright-coloured rug on the floor, and bright coloured pictures of MountVesuvius and of Garibaldi on the walls. Also there was a cabinet withmany interesting treasures to look at--a bit of coral and a conch-shell, a shark's tooth and an Indian arrow-head, and a stuffed linnet with aglass cover over him. A while back Hal would not have thought of suchthings as especially stimulating to the imagination; but that was beforehe had begun to spend five-sixths of his waking hours in the bowels ofthe earth. 

He ate supper, a real Dago supper; the spaghetti proved to be real Dagospaghetti, smoking hot, with tomato sauce and a rich flavour ofmeat-juice. And all through the meal Hal smacked his lips and grinned atLittle Jerry, who smacked his lips and grinned back. It was all sodifferent from feeding at Reminitsky's pig-trough, that Hal thought hehad never had such a good supper in his life before. As for Mr. And Mrs. Jerry, they were so proud of their wonderful kid, who could swear inEnglish as good as a real American, that they were in the seventhheaven. 

When the meal was over, Hal leaned back and exclaimed, just as he had atthe Rafferties', "Lord, how I wish I could board here!"

He saw his host look at his wife. "All right, " said he. "You come here. I board you. Hey, Rosa?"

"Sure, " said Rosa. 

Hal looked at them, astonished. "You're sure they'll let you?" he asked. 

"Let me? Who stop me?"

"I don't know. Maybe Reminitsky. You might get into trouble. "

Jerry grinned. "I no fraid, " said he. "Got friends here. Carmino mycousin. You know Carmino?"

"No, " said Hal. 

"Pit-boss in Number One. He stand by me. Old Reminitsky go hang! Youcome here, I give you bunk in that room, give you good grub. What youpay Reminitsky?"

"Twenty-seven a month. "

"All right, you pay me twenty-seven, you get everything good. Can't getmuch stuff here, but Rosa good cook, she fix it. "

Hal's new friend--besides being a favourite of the boss--was a"shot-firer"; it was his duty to go about the mine at night, setting offthe charges of powder which the miners had got ready by day. This wasdangerous work, calling for a skilled man, and it paid pretty well; soJerry got on in the world and was not afraid to speak his mind, withincertain limits. He ignored the possibility that Hal might be a companyspy, and astonished him by rebellious talk of the different kinds ofgraft in North Valley, and at other places he had worked since coming toAmerica as a boy. Minetti was a Socialist, Hal learned; he took anItalian Socialist paper, and the clerk at the post-office knew what sortof paper it was, and would "josh" him about it. What was moreremarkable, Mrs. Minetti was a Socialist also; that meant a great dealto a man, as Jerry explained, because she was not under the dominationof a priest. 

SECTION 18. 

Hal made the move at once, sacrificing part of a month's board, whichReminitsky would charge against his account with the company. But he waswilling to pay for the privilege of a clean home and clean food. To hisamusement he found that in the eyes of his Irish friends he was losingcaste by going to live with the Minettis. There were most rigid sociallines in North Valley, it appeared. The Americans and English and Scotchlooked down upon the Welsh and Irish; the Welsh and Irish looked downupon the Dagoes and Frenchies; the Dagoes and Frenchies looked down uponPolacks and Hunkies, these in turn upon Greeks, Bulgarians and"Montynegroes, " and so on through a score of races of Eastern Europe, Lithuanians, Slovaks, and Croatians, Armenians, Roumanians, Rumelians, Ruthenians--ending up with Greasers, niggers, and last and lowest, Japs. 

It was when Hal went to pay another call upon the Rafferties that hemade this discovery. Mary Burke happened to be there, and when shecaught sight of him, her grey eyes beamed with mischief. "How do ye do, Mr. Minetti?" she cried. 

"How do ye do, Miss Rosetti?" he countered. 

"You lika da spagett?"

"You no lika da spagett?"

"I told ye once, " laughed the girl--"the good old pertaties is goodenough for me!"

"And you remember, " said he, "what I answered?"

Yes, she remembered! Her cheeks took on the colour of the rose-leaves hehad specified as her probable diet. 

And then the Rafferty children, who had got to know Hal well, joined inthe teasing. "Mister Minetti! Lika da spagetti!" Hal, when he hadgrasped the situation, was tempted to retaliate by reminding them thathe had offered to board with the Irish, and been turned down; but hefeared that the elder Rafferty might not appreciate this joke, soinstead he pretended to have supposed all along that the Rafferties wereItalians. He addressed the elder Rafferty gravely, pronouncing the namewith the accent on the second syllable--"Signer Rafferti"; and this soamused the old man that he chuckled over it at intervals for an hour. His heart warmed to this lively young fellow; he forgot some of hissuspicions, and after the youngsters had been sent away to bed, hetalked more or less frankly about his life as a coal-miner. 

"Old Rafferty" had once been on the way to high station. He had beenmade tipple-boss at the San José mine, but had given up his job becausehe had thought that his religion did not permit him to do what he wasordered to do. It had been a crude proposition of keeping the men'sscore at a certain level, no matter how much coal they might send up;and when Rafferty had quit rather than obey such orders, he had had toleave the mine altogether; for of course everybody knew why he had quit, and his mere presence had the effect of keeping discontent alive. 

"You think there are no honest companies at all?" Hal asked. 

The old man answered, "There be some, but 'tis not so easy as ye mightthink to be honest. They have to meet each other's prices, and when oneshort-weights, the others have to. 'Tis a way of cuttin' wages withoutthe men findin' it out; and there be people that do not like to fallbehind with their profits. " Hal found himself thinking of old PeterHarrigan, who controlled the General Fuel Company, and had made theremark: "I am a great clamourer for dividends!"

"The trouble with the miner, " continued Old Rafferty, "is that he has noone to speak for him. He stands alone--"

During this discourse, Hal had glanced at "Red Mary, " and noticed thatshe sat with her arms on the table, her sturdy shoulders bowed in afashion which told of a hard day's toil. But here she broke into theconversation; her voice came suddenly, alive with scorn: "The troublewith the miner is that he's a _slave!_"

"Ah, now--" put in the old man, protestingly. 

"He has the whole world against him, and he hasn't got the sense to gettogether--to form a union, and stand by it!"

There fell a sudden silence in the Rafferty home. Even Hal wasstartled--for this was the first time during his stay in the camp thathe had heard the dread word "union" spoken above a whisper. 

"I know!" said Mary, her grey eyes full of defiance. "Ye'll not have theword spoken! But some will speak it in spite of ye!"

"'Tis all very well, " said the old man. "When ye're young, and a womantoo--"

"A woman! Is it only the women that can have courage?"

"Sure, " said he, with a wry smile, "'tis the women that have thetongues, and that can't he stopped from usin' them. Even the boss mustknow that. "

"Maybe so, " replied Mary. "And maybe 'tis the women have the most tosuffer in a coal-camp; and maybe the boss knows that. " The girl's cheekswere red. 

"Mebbe so, " said Rafferty; and after that there was silence, while hesat puffing his pipe. It was evident that he did not care to go on, thathe did not want union speeches made in his home. After a while Mrs. Rafferty made a timid effort to change the course of the talk, by askingafter Mary's sister, who had not been well; and after they had discussedremedies for the ailments of children, Mary rose, saying, "I'll be goin'along. "

Hal rose also. "I'll walk with you, if I may, " he said. 

"Sure, " said she; and it seemed that the cheerfulness of the Raffertyfamily was restored by the sight of a bit of gallantry. 

SECTION 19. 

They strolled down the street, and Hal remarked, "That's the first wordI've heard here about a union. "

Mary looked about her nervously. "Hush!" she whispered. 

"But I thought you said you were talking about it!"

She answered, "'Tis one thing, talkin' in a friend's house, and anotheroutside. What's the good of throwin' away your job?"

He lowered his voice. "Would you seriously like to have a union here?"

"Seriously?" said she. "Didn't ye see Mr. Rafferty--what a coward he is?That's the way they are! No, 'twas just a burst of my temper. I'm a bitcrazy to-night--something happened to set me off. "

He thought she was going on, but apparently she changed her mind. Finally he asked, "What happened?"

"Oh, 'twould do no good to talk, " she answered; and they walked a bitfarther in silence. 

"Tell me about it, won't you?" he said; and the kindness in his tonemade its impression. 

"'Tis not much ye know of a coal-camp, Joe Smith, " she said. "Can't yeimagine what it's like--bein' a woman in a place like this? And a womanthey think good-lookin'!"

"Oh, so it's that!" said he, and was silent again. "Some one's beentroubling you?" he ventured after a while. 

"Sure! Some one's always troublin' us women! Always! Never a day but wehear it. Winks and nudges--everywhere ye turn. "

"Who is it?"

"The bosses, the clerks--anybody that has a chance to wear a stiffcollar, and thinks he can offer money to a girl. It begins before she'sout of short skirts, and there's never any peace afterwards. "

"And you can't make them understand?"

"I've made them understand me a bit; now they go after my old man. "

"What?"

"Sure! D'ye suppose they'd not try that? Him that's so crazy for liquor, and can never get enough of it!"

"And your father?--" But Hal stopped. She would not want that questionasked!

She had seen his hesitation, however. "He was a decent man once, " shedeclared. "'Tis the life here, that turns a man into a coward. 'Tiseverything ye need, everywhere ye turn--ye have to ask favours from someboss. The room ye work in, the dead work they pile on ye; or maybe 'tismore credit ye need at the store, or maybe the doctor to come when ye'resick. Just now 'tis our roof that leaks--so bad we can't find a dryplace to sleep when it rains. "

"I see, " said Hal. "Who owns the house?"

"Sure, there's none but company houses here. "

"Who's supposed to fix it?"

"Mr. Kosegi, the house-agent. But we gave him up long ago--if he doesanything, he raises the rent. Today my father went to Mr. Cotton. He'ssupposed to look out for the health of the place, and it seems hardlyhealthy to keep people wet in their beds. "

"And what did Cotton say?" asked Hal, when she stopped again. 

"Well, don't ye know Jeff Cotton--can't ye guess what he'd say? 'That'sa fine girl ye got, Burke! Why don't ye make her listen to reason?' Andthen he laughed, and told me old father he'd better learn to take ahint. 'Twas bad for an old man to sleep in the rain--he might getcarried off by pneumonia. "

Hal could no longer keep back the question, "What did your father do?"

"I'd not have ye think hard of my old father, " she said, quickly. "Heused to be a fightin' man, in the days before O'Callahan had his waywith him. But now he knows what a camp-marshal can do to a miner!"

SECTION 20. 

Mary Burke had said that the company could stand breaking the bones ofits men; and not long after Number Two started up again, Hal had achance to note the truth of this assertion. 

A miner's life depended upon the proper timbering of the room where heworked. The company undertook to furnish the timbers, but when the minerneeded them, he would find none at hand, and would have to make themile-long trip to the surface. He would select timbers of the properlength, and would mark them--the understanding being that they were tobe delivered to his room by some of the labourers. But then some oneelse would carry them off--here was more graft and favouritism, and theminer might lose a day or two of work, while meantime his account waspiling up at the store, and his children might have no shoes to go toschool. Sometimes he would give up waiting for timbers, and go on takingout coal; so there would be a fall of rock--and the coroner's jury wouldbring in a verdict of "negligence, " and the coal-operators would talksolemnly about the impossibility of teaching caution to miners. Not sovery long ago Hal had read an interview which the president of theGeneral Fuel Company had given to a newspaper, in which he set forth theidea that the more experience a miner had the more dangerous it was toemploy him, because he thought he knew it all, and would not heed thewise regulations which the company laid down for his safety!

In Number Two mine there were some places being operated by the "roomand pillar" method; the coal being taken out as from a series of rooms, the portion corresponding to the walls of the rooms being left to upholdthe roof. These walls are the "pillars"; and when the end of the vein isreached, the miner begins to work backwards, "pulling the pillars, " andletting the roof collapse behind him. This is a dangerous task; as heworks, the man has to listen to the drumming sounds of the rock abovehis head, and has to judge just when to make his escape. Sometimes he istoo anxious to save a tool; or sometimes the collapse comes withoutwarning. In that case the victim is seldom dug out; for it must beadmitted that a man buried under a mountain is as well buried as acompany could be expected to arrange it. 

In Number Two mine a man was caught in this way. He stumbled as he ran, and the lower half of his body was pinned fast; the doctor had to comeand pump opiates into him, while the rescue crew was digging him loose. The first Hal knew of the accident was when he saw the body stretchedout on a plank, with a couple of old sacks to cover it. He noticed thatnobody stopped for a second glance. Going up from work, he asked hisfriend Madvik, the mule driver, who answered, "Lit'uanian feller--gotmash. " And that was all. Nobody knew him, and nobody cared about him. 

It happened that Mike Sikoria had been working nearby, and was one ofthose who helped to get the victim out. Mike's negro "buddy" had been intoo great haste to get some of the rock out of the way, and had got hishand crushed, and would not be able to work for a month or so. Mike toldHal about it, in his broken English. It was a terrible thing to see aman trapped like that, gasping, his eyes almost popping out of his head. Fortunately he was a young fellow, and had no family. 

Hal asked what they would do with the body; the answer was they wouldbury him in the morning. The company had a piece of ground up thecanyon. 

"But won't they have an inquest?" he inquired. 

"Inques'?" repeated the other. "What's he?"

"Doesn't the coroner see the body?"

The old Slovak shrugged his bowed shoulders; if there was a coroner inthis part of the world, he had never heard of it; and he had worked in agood many mines, and seen a good many men put under the ground. "Put himin a box and dig a hole, " was the way he described the procedure. 

"And doesn't the priest come?"

"Priest too far away. "

Afterwards Hal made inquiry among the English-speaking men, and learnedthat the coroner did sometimes come to the camp. He would empanel a juryconsisting of Jeff Cotton, the marshal, and Predovich, the Galician Jewwho worked in the company store, and a clerk or two from the company'soffice, and a couple of Mexican labourers who had no idea what it wasall about. This jury would view the corpse, and ask a couple of men whathad happened, and then bring in a verdict: "We find that the deceasedmet his death from a fall of rock caused by his own fault. " (In one casethey had added the picturesque detail: "No relatives, and damned fewfriends!")

For this service the coroner got a fee, and the company got an officialverdict, which would be final in case some foreign consul shouldthreaten a damage suit. So well did they have matters in hand thatnobody in North Valley had ever got anything for death or injury; infact, as Hal found later, there had not been a damage suit filed againstany coal-operator in that county for twenty-three years!

This particular, accident was of consequence to Hal, because it got hima chance to see the real work of mining. Old Mike was without a helper, and made the proposition that Hal should take the job. It was betterthan a stableman's, for it paid two dollars a day. 

"But will the boss let me change?" asked Hal. 

"You give him ten dollar, he change you, " said Mike. 

"Sorry, " said Hal, "I haven't got ten dollars. "

"You give him ten dollar credit, " said the other. 

And Hal laughed. "They take scrip for graft, do they?"

"Sure they take him, " said Mike. 

"Suppose I treat my mules bad?" continued the other. "So I can make himchange me for nothing!"

"He change you to hell!" replied Mike. "You get him cross, he put us inbad room, cost us ten dollar a week. No, sir--you give him drink, sayfine feller, make him feel good. You talk American--give him jolly!"

SECTION 21. 

Hal was glad of this opportunity to get better acquainted with hispit-boss. Alec Stone was six feet high, and built in proportion, witharms like hams--soft with fat, yet possessed of enormous strength. Hehad learned his manner of handling men on a sugar-plantation inLouisiana--a fact which, when Hal heard it, explained much. Like astage-manager who does not heed the real names of his actors, but callsthem by their character-names, Stone had the habit of addressing his menby their nationalities: "You, Polack, get that rock into the car! Hey, Jap, bring them tools over here! Shut your mouth, now, Dago, and get towork, or I'll kick the breeches off you, sure as you're alive!"

Hal had witnessed one occasion when there was a dispute as to whose dutyit was to move timbers. There was a great two-handled cross-cut sawlying on the ground, and Stone seized it and began to wave it, like amighty broadsword, in the face of a little Bohemian miner. "Load themtimbers, Hunkie, or I'll carve you into bits!" And as the terrified manshrunk back, he followed, until his victim was flat against a wall, theweapon swinging to and fro under his nose after the fashion of "The Pitand the Pendulum. " "Carve you into pieces, Hunkie! Carve you intostew-meat!" When at last the boss stepped back, the little Bohemianleaped to load the timbers. 

The curious part about it to Hal was that Stone seemed to be reasonablygood-natured about such proceedings. Hardly one time in a thousand didhe carry out his bloodthirsty threats, and like as not he would laughwhen he had finished his tirade, and the object of it would grin inturn--but without slackening his frightened efforts. After thebroad-sword waving episode, seeing that Hal had been watching, the bossremarked, "That's the way you have to manage them wops. " Hal took thisremark as a tribute to his American blood, and was duly flattered. 

He sought out the boss that evening, and found him with his feet uponthe railing of his home. "Mr. Stone, " said he, "I've something I'd liketo ask you. "

"Fire away, kid, " said the other. 

"Won't you come up to the saloon and have a drink?"

"Want to get something out of me, hey? You can't work me, kid!" Butnevertheless he slung down his feet from the railing, and knocked theashes out of his pipe and strolled up the street with Hal. 

"Mr. Stone, " said Hal, "I want to make a change. "

"What's that? Got a grouch on them mules?"

"No, sir, but I got a better job in sight. Mike Sikoria's buddy is laidup, and I'd like to take his place, if you're willing. "

"Why, that's a nigger's place, kid. Ain't you scared to take a nigger'splace?"

"Why, sir?"

"Don't you know about hoodoos?"

"What I want, " said Hal, "is the nigger's pay. "

"No, " said the boss, abruptly, "you stick by them mules. I got a goodstableman, and I don't want to spoil him. You stick, and by and by I'llgive you a raise. You go into them pits, the first thing you know you'llget a fall of rock on your head, and the nigger's pay won't be no goodto you. "

They came to the saloon and entered. Hal noted that a silence fellwithin, and every one nodded and watched. It was pleasant to be seengoing out with one's boss. 

O'Callahan, the proprietor, came forward with his best society smile andjoined them, and at Hal's invitation they ordered whiskies. "No, youstick to your job, " continued the pit-boss. "You stay by it, and whenyou've learned to manage mules, I'll make a boss out of you, and let youmanage men. "

Some of the bystanders tittered. The pit-boss poured down his whiskey, and set the glass on the bar. "That's no joke, " said he, in a tone thatevery one could hear. "I learned that long ago about niggers. They'd sayto me, 'For God's sake, don't talk to our niggers like that. Some nightyou'll have your house set afire. ' But I said, 'Pet a nigger, and you'vegot a spoiled nigger. ' I'd say, 'Nigger, don't you give me any of yourimp, or I'll kick the breeches off you. ' And they knew I was agentleman, and they stepped lively. "

"Have another drink, " said Hal. 

The pit-boss drank, and becoming more sociable, told nigger stories. Onthe sugar-plantations there was a rush season, when the rule was twentyhours' work a day; when some of the niggers tried to shirk it, theywould arrest them for swearing or crap-shooting, and work them asconvicts, without pay. The pit-boss told how one "buck" had been broughtbefore the justice of the peace, and the charge read, "beingcross-eyed"; for which offence he had been sentenced to sixty days' hardlabour. This anecdote was enjoyed by the men in the saloon--whoserace-feelings seemed to be stronger than their class-feelings. 

When the pair went out again, it was late, and the boss was cordial. "Mr. Stone, " began Hal, "I don't want to bother you, but I'd like firstrate to get more pay. If you could see your way to let me have thatbuddy's job, I'd be more than glad to divide with you. "

"Divide with me?" said Stone. "How d'ye mean?" Hal waited with someapprehension--for if Mike had not assured him so positively, he wouldhave expected a swing from the pit-boss's mighty arm. 

"It's worth about fifteen a month more to me. I haven't any cash, but ifyou'd be willing to charge off ten dollars from my store-account, itwould be well worth my while. "

They walked for a short way in silence. "Well, I'll tell you, " said theboss, at last; "that old Slovak is a kicker--one of these fellows thatthinks he could run the mine if he had a chance. And if you get tolistenin' to him, and think you can come to me and grumble, by God--"

"That's all right, sir, " put in Hal, quickly. "I'll manage that foryou--I'll shut him up. If you'd like me to, I'll see what fellows hetalks with, and if any of them are trying to make trouble, I'll tip youoff. "

"Now that's the talk, " said the boss, promptly. "You do that, and I'llkeep my eye on you and give you a chance. Not that I'm afraid of the oldfellow--I told him last time that if I heard from him again, I'd kickthe breeches off him. But when you got half a thousand of this foreignscum, some of them Anarchists, and some of them Bulgars and Montynegroesthat's been fightin' each other at home--"

"I understand, " said Hal. "You have to watch 'em. "

"That's it, " said the pit-boss. "And by the way, when you tell thestore-clerk about that fifteen dollars, just say you lost it at poker. "

"I said ten dollars, " put in Hal, quickly. 

"Yes, I know, " responded the other. "But _I_ said fifteen!"

SECTION 22. 

Hal told himself with satisfaction that he was now to do the real workof coal-mining. His imagination had been occupied with it for a longtime; but as so often happens in the life of man, the first contact withreality killed the results of many years' imagining. It killed allimagining, in fact; Hal found that his entire stock of energy, bothmental and physical, was consumed in enduring torment. If any one hadtold him the horror of attempting to work in a room five feet high, hewould not have believed it. It was like some of the dreadful devices oftorture which one saw in European castles, the "iron maiden" and the"spiked collar. " Hal's back burned as if hot irons were being run up anddown it; every separate joint and muscle cried aloud. It seemed as if hecould never learn the lesson of the jagged ceiling above his head--hebumped it and continued to bump it, until his scalp was a mass of cutsand bruises, and his head ached till he was nearly blind, and he wouldhave to throw himself flat on the ground. 

Then old Mike Sikoria would grin. "I know. Like green mule! Some day gettough!"

Hal recalled the great thick callouses on the flanks of his formercharges, where the harness rubbed against them. "Yes, I'm a 'greenmule, ' all right!"

It was amazing how many ways there were to bruise and tear one'sfingers, loading lumps of coal into a car. He put on a pair of gloves, but these wore through in a day. And then the gas, and the smoke ofpowder, stifling one; and the terrible burning of the eyes, from thedust and the feeble light. There was no way to rub these burning eyes, because everything about one was equally dusty. Could anybody haveimagined the torment of that--any of those ladies who rode in softlyupholstered parlour-cars, or reclined upon the decks of steam-ships ingleaming tropic seas?

Old Mike was good to his new "buddy. " Mike's spine was bent and hishands were hardened by forty years of this sort of toil, so he could dothe work of two men, and entertain his friend with comments into thebargain. The old fellow had the habit of talking all the time, like achild; he would talk to his helper, to himself, to his tools. He wouldcall these tools by obscene and terrifying names--but with entirefriendliness and good humour. "Get in there, you son-of-a-gun!" he wouldsay to his pick. "Come along here, you wop!" he would say to his car. "In with you, now, you old buster!" he would say to a lump of coal. Andhe would lecture Hal on the details of mining. He would tell stories ofsuccessful days, or of terrible mishaps. Above all he would tell aboutrascality--cursing the "G. F. C. , " its foremen and superintendents, itsofficials, directors and stock-holders, and the world which permittedsuch a criminal institution to exist. 

Noon-time would come, and Hal would lie upon his back, too worn to eat. Old Mike would sit munching; his abundant whiskers came to a point onhis chin, and as his jaws moved, he looked for all the world like anaged billy-goat. He was a kind-hearted and anxious old billy-goat, andsought to tempt his buddy with a bit of cheese or a swig of cold coffee. He believed in eating--no man could keep up steam if he did not stokethe furnace. Failing in this, he would try to divert Hal's mind, tellingstories of mining-life in America and Russia. He was most proud to havean "American feller" for a buddy, and tried to make the work as easy aspossible, for fear lest Hal might quit. 

Hal did not quit; but he would drag himself out towards night, soexhausted that he would fall asleep in the cage. He would fall asleep atsupper, and go in and sink down on his cot and sleep like a log. And oh, the torture of being routed out before daybreak! Having to shake thesleep out of his head, and move his creaking joints, and become aware ofthe burning in his eyes, and the blisters and sores on his hands!

It was a week before he had a moment that was not pain; and he never gotfully used to the labour. It was impossible for any one to work so hardand keep his mental alertness, his eagerness and sensitiveness; it wasimpossible to work so hard and be an adventurer--to be anything, infact, but a machine. Hal had heard that phrase of contempt, "the inertiaof the masses, " and had wondered about it. He no longer wondered, heknew. Could a man be brave enough to protest to a pit-boss when his bodywas numb with weariness? Could he think out a definite conclusion as tohis rights and wrongs, and back his conclusion with effective action, when his mental faculties were paralysed by such weariness of body?

Hal had come here, as one goes upon the deck of a ship in mid-ocean, tosee the storm. In this ocean of social misery, of ignorance and despair, one saw upturned, tortured faces, writhing limbs and clutching hands; inone's ears was a storm of lamentation, upon one's cheek a spray of bloodand tears. Hal found himself so deep in this ocean that he could nolonger find consolation in the thought that he could escape whenever hewanted to: that he could say to himself, It is sad, it is terrible--butthank God, I can get out of it when I choose! I can go back into thewarm and well-lighted saloon and tell the other passengers howpicturesque it is, what an interesting experience they are missing!

SECTION 23. 

During these days of torment, Hal did not go to see "Red Mary"; butthen, one evening, the Minettis' baby having been sick, she came in toask about it, bringing what she called "a bit of a custard" in a bowl. Hal was suspicious enough of the ways of men, especially ofbusiness-men; but when it came to women he was without insight--it didnot occur to him as singular that an Irish girl with many troubles athome should come out to nurse a Dago woman's baby. He did not reflectthat there were plenty of sick Irish babies in the camp, to whom Marymight have taken her "bit of a custard. " And when he saw the surprise ofRosa, who had never met Mary before, he took it to be the touchinggratitude of the poor!

There are, in truth, many kinds of women, with many arts, and no man hastime to learn them all. Hal had observed the shop-girl type, who dressthemselves with many frills, and cast side-long glances, and indulge infits of giggles to attract the attention of the male; he was familiarwith the society-girl type, who achieve the same end with more subtleand alluring means. But could there be a type who hold little Dagobabies in their laps, and call them pretty Irish names, and feed themcustard out of a spoon? Hal had never heard of that kind, and he thoughtthat "Red Mary" made a charming picture--a Celtic madonna with aSicilian infant in her arms. 

He noticed that she was wearing the same faded blue calico-dress with apatch on the shoulder. Man though he was, he realised that dress is animportant consideration in the lives of women. He was tempted to suspectthat this blue calico might be the only dress that Mary owned; butseeing it newly laundered every time, he concluded that she must have atleast one other. At any rate, here she was, crisp and fresh-looking; andwith the new shining costume, she had put on the long promised "companymanner": high spirits and badinage, precisely like any belle of theworld of luxury, who powders and bedecks herself for a ball. She hadbeen grim and complaining in former meetings with this interesting youngman; she had frightened him away, apparently; perhaps she could win himback by womanliness and good humour. 

She rallied him upon his battered scalp and his creaking back, tellinghim he looked ten years older--which he was fully prepared to believe. Also she had fun with him for working under a Slovak--another loss ofcaste, it appeared! This was a joke the Minettis could sharein--especially Little Jerry, who liked jokes. He told Mary how Joe Smithhad had to pay fifteen dollars for his new job, besides several drinksat O'Callahan's. Also he told how Mike Sikoria had called Joe his "greenmule. " Little Jerry complained about the turn of events, for in the olddays Joe had taught him a lot of fine new games--and now he was sore, and would not play them. Also, in the old days he had sung a lot ofjolly songs, full of the most fascinating rhymes. There was a song abouta "monkey puzzle tree"! Had Mary ever seen that kind of tree? LittleJerry never got tired of trying to imagine what it might look like. 

The Dago urchin stood and watched gravely while Mary fed the custard tothe baby; and when two or three spoonfuls were held out to him, heopened his mouth wide, and afterwards licked his lips. Gee, that wasgood stuff!

When the last taste was gone, he stood gazing at Mary's shining coronet. "Say, " said he, "was your hair always like that?"

Hal and Mary burst into laughter, while Rosa cried "Hush!" She was neversure what this youngster would say next. 

"Sure, did ye think I painted it?" asked Mary. 

"I didn't know, " said Little Jerry. "It looks so nice and new. " And heturned to Hal. "Ain't it?"

"You bet, " said Hal, and added, "Go on and tell her about it. Girls likecompliments. "

"Compliments?" echoed Little Jerry. "What's that?"

"Why, " said Hal, "that's when you say that her hair is like the sunrise, and her eyes are like twilight, or that she's a wild rose on amountain-side. "

"Oh, " said the Dago urchin, somewhat doubtfully. "Anyhow, " he added, "she make nice custard!"

SECTION 24. 

The time came for Mary to take her departure, and Hal got up, wincingwith pain, to escort her home. She regarded him gravely, having notrealised before how seriously he was suffering. As they walked along sheasked, "Why do ye do such work, when ye don't have to?"

"But I _do_ have to! I have to earn a living!"

"Ye don't have to earn it that way! A bright young fellow like you--anAmerican!"

"Well, " said Hal, "I thought it would be interesting to see coalmining. "

"Now ye've seen it, " said the girl--"now quit!"

"But it won't do me any harm to go on for a while!"

"Won't it? How can ye know? When any day they may carry you out on aplank!"

Her "company manner" was gone; her voice was full of bitterness, as italways was when she spoke of North Valley. "I know what I'm tellin' ye, Joe Smith. Didn't I lose two brothers in it--as fine lads as ye'd findanywhere in the world! And many another lad I've seen go in laughin', and come out a corpse--or what is worse, for workin' people, a cripple. Sometimes I'd like to go and stand at the pit-mouth in the mornin' andcry to them, 'Go back, go back! Go down the canyon this day! Starve, ifye have to, beg if ye have to, only find some other work butcoal-minin'!'"

Her voice had risen to a passion of protest; when she went on a new notecame into it--a note of personal terror. "It's worse now--since youcame, Joe! To see ye settin' out on the life of a miner--you, that areyoung and strong and different. Oh, go away, Joe, go away while ye can!"

He was astonished at her intensity. "Don't worry about me, Mary, " hesaid. "Nothing will happen to me. I'll go away after a while. "

The path was irregular, and he had been holding her arm as they walked. He felt her trembling, and went on again, quickly, "It's not I thatshould go away, Mary. It's yourself. You hate the place--it's terriblefor you to have to live here. Have you never thought of going away?"

She did not answer at once, and when she did the excitement was gonefrom her voice; it was flat and dull with despair. "'Tis no use to thinkof me. There's nothin' I can do--there's nothin' any girl can do whenshe's poor. I've tried--but 'tis like bein' up against a stone wall. Ican't even save the money to get on a train with! I've tried it--I beensavin' for two years--and how much d'ye think I got, Joe? Seven dollars!Seven dollars in two years! No--ye can't save money in a place wherethere's so many things that wring the heart. Ye may hate them for beingcowards--but ye must help when ye see a man killed, and his familyturned out without a roof to cover them in the winter-time!"

"You're too tender-hearted, Mary. "

"No, 'tis not that! Should I go off and leave me own brother and sister, that need me?"

"But you could earn money and send it to them. "

"I earn a little here--I do cleanin' and nursin' for some that need me. "

"But outside--couldn't you earn more?"

"I could get a job in a restaurant for seven or eight a week, but I'dhave to spend more, and what I sent home would not go so far, with meaway. Or I could get a job in some other woman's home, and work fourteenhours a day for it. But, Joe, 'tis not more drudgery I want, 'tissomethin' fair to look upon--somethin' of my own!" She flung out herarms suddenly like one being stifled. "Oh, I want somethin' that's fairand clean!"

Again he felt her trembling. Again the path was rough, and having animpulse of sympathy, he put his arm about her. In the world of leisure, one might indulge in such considerateness, and he assumed it would nothe different with a miner's daughter. But then, when she was close tohim, he felt, rather than heard, a sob. 

"Mary!" he whispered; and they stopped. Almost without realising it, heput his other arm about her, and in a moment more he felt her warmbreath on his cheek, and she was trembling and shaking in his embrace. "Joe! Joe!" she whispered. "_You_ take me away!"

She was a rose in a mining-camp, and Hal was deeply moved. The primrosepath of dalliance stretched fair before him, here in the soft summernight, with a moon overhead which bore the same message as it bore inthe Italian gardens of the leisure-class. But not many minutes passedbefore a cold fear began to steal over Hal. There was a girl at home, waiting for him; and also there was the resolve which had been growingin him since his coming to this place--a resolve to find some way ofcompensation to the poor, to repay them for the freedom and culture hehad taken; not to prey upon them, upon any individual among them. Therewere the Jeff Cottons for that!

"Mary, " he pleaded, "we mustn't do this. "

"Why not?"

"Because--I'm not free. There is some one else. "

He felt her start, but she did not draw away. 

"Where?" she asked, in a low voice. 

"At home, waiting for me. "

"And why didn't ye tell me?"

"I don't know. "

Hal realised in a moment that the girl had ground of complaint againsthim. According to the simple code of her world, he had gone somedistance with her; he had been seen to walk out with her, he had beenaccounted her "fellow. " He had led her to talk to him of herself--he hadinsisted upon having her confidences. And these people who were poor didnot have subtleties, there was no room in their lives for intellectualcuriosities, for Platonic friendships or philanderings. "Forgive me, Mary!" he said. 

She made no answer; but a sob escaped her, and she drew back from hisarms--slowly. He struggled with an impulse to clasp her again. She wasbeautiful, warm with life--and so much in need of happiness!

But he held himself in check, and for a minute or two they stood apart. Then he asked, humbly, "We can still be friends, Mary, can't we? Youmust know--I'm so _sorry_!"

But she could not endure being pitied. "'Tis nothin', " she said. "Only Ithought I was going to get away! That's what ye mean to me. "

SECTION 25. 

Hal had promised Alec Stone to keep a look-out for trouble-makers; andone evening the boss stopped him on the street, and asked him if he hadanything to report. Hal took the occasion to indulge his sense ofhumour. 

"There's no harm in Mike Sikoria, " said he. "He likes to shoot off hishead, but if he's got somebody to listen, that's all he wants. He's justold and grouchy. But there's another fellow that I think would bearwatching. "

"Who's that?" asked the boss. 

"I don't know his last name. They call him Gus and he's a 'cager. 'Fellow with a red face. "

"I know, " said Stone--"Gus Durking. "

"Well, he tried his best to get me to talk about unions. He keepsbringing it up, and I think he's some kind of trouble-maker. "

"I see, " said the boss. "I'll get after him. "

"You won't say I told you, " said Hal, anxiously. 

"Oh, no--sure not. " And Hal caught the trace of a smile on thepit-boss's face. 

He went away, smiling in his turn. The "red-faced feller. Gus, " was theperson Madvik had named as being a "spotter" for the company!

There were ins and outs to this matter of "spotting, " and sometimes itwas not easy to know what to think. One Sunday morning Hal went for awalk up the canyon, and on the way he met a young chap who got totalking with him, and after a while brought up the question ofworking-conditions in North Valley. He had only been there a week, hesaid, but everybody he had met seemed to be grumbling about shortweight. He himself had a job as an "outside man, " so it made nodifference to him, but he was interested, and wondered what Hal hadfound. 

Straightway came the question, was this really a workingman, or had AlecStone set some one to spying upon his spy. This was an intelligentfellow, an American--which in itself was suspicious, for most of the newmen the company got in were from "somewhere East of Suez. "

Hal decided to spar for a while. He did not know, he said, thatconditions were any worse here than elsewhere. You heard complaints, nomatter what sort of job you took. 

Yes, said the stranger, but matters seemed to be especially bad in thecoal-camps. Probably it was because they were so remote, and thecompanies owned everything in sight. 

"Where have you been?" asked Hal, thinking that this might trap him. 

But the other answered straight; he had evidently worked in half a dozenof the camps. In Mateo he had paid a dollar a month for wash-houseprivileges, and there had never been any water after the first three menhad washed. There had been a common wash-tub for all the men, anunthinkably filthy arrangement. At Pine Creek--Hal found the very namingof the place made his heart stand still--at Pine Creek he had boardedwith his boss, but the roof of the building leaked, and everything heowned was ruined; the boss would do nothing--yet when the boarder moved, he lost his job. At East Ridge, this man and a couple of other fellowshad rented a two room cabin and started to board themselves, in spite ofthe fact that they had to pay a dollar-fifty a sack for potatoes andeleven cents a pound for sugar at the company store. They had continueduntil they made the discovery that the water supply had run short, andthat the water for which they were paying the company a dollar a monthwas being pumped from the bottom of the mine, where the filth of mulesand men was plentiful!

Hal forced himself to remain non-committal; he shook his head and saidit was too bad, but the workers always got it in the neck, and he didn'tsee what they could do about it. So they strolled back to the camp, thestranger evidently baffled, and Hal, for his part, feeling like thereader of a detective story at the end of the first chapter. Was thisyoung man the murderer, or was he the hero? One would have to read on inthe book to find out!

SECTION 26. 

Hal kept his eye upon his new acquaintance, and perceived that he wastalking with others. Before long the man tackled Old Mike; and Mike ofcourse could not refuse an invitation to grumble, though it came fromthe devil himself. Hal decided that something must be done about it. 

He consulted his friend Jerry, who, being a radical, might have sometouch-stone by which to test the stranger. Jerry sought him out atnoon-time, and came back and reported that he was as much in the dark asHal. Either the man was an agitator, seeking to "start something, " orelse he was a detective sent in by the company. There was only one wayto find out--which was for some one to talk freely with him, and seewhat happened to that person!

After some hesitation, Hal decided that he would be the victim. Itrewakened his love of adventure, which digging in a coal-mine hadsubdued in him. The mysterious stranger was a new sort of miner, digginginto the souls of men; Hal would countermine him, and perhaps blow himup. He could afford the experiment better than some others--better, forexample, than little Mrs. David, who had already taken the stranger intoher home, and revealed to him the fact that her husband had been amember of the most revolutionary of all miners' organisations, the SouthWales Federation. 

So next Sunday Hal invited the stranger for another walk. The man showedreluctance--until Hal said that he wanted to talk to him. As they walkedup the canyon, Hal began, "I've been thinking about what you said ofconditions in these camps, and I've concluded it would be a good thingif we had a little shaking up here in North Valley. "

"Is that so?" said the other. 

"When I first came here, I used to think the men were grouchy. But nowI've had a chance to see for myself, and I don't believe anybody gets asquare deal. For one thing, nobody gets full weight in these mines--atleast not unless he's some favourite of the boss. I'm sure of it, forI've tried all sorts of experiments with my partner. We've loaded a carextra light, and got eighteen hundredweight, and then we've loaded onehigh and solid, so that we'd know it had twice as much in it--but all weever got was twenty-two and twenty-three. There's just no way you canget over that--though everybody knows those big cars can be made to holdtwo or three tons. "

"Yes, I suppose they might, " said the other. 

"And if you get the smallest piece of rock in, you get a 'double-O, 'sure as fate; and sometimes they say you got rock in when you didn't. There's no law to make them prove it. "

"No, I suppose not. "

"What it comes to is simply this--they make you think they are payingfifty-five a ton, but they've secretly cut you down to thirty-five. Andyesterday at the company-store I paid a dollar and a half for a pair ofblue overalls that I'd priced in Pedro for sixty cents. "

"Well, " said the other, "the company has to haul them up here, youknow!"

So, gradually, Hal made the discovery that the tables were turned--themysterious personage was now occupied in holding _him_ at arm's length!For some reason, Hal's sudden interest in industrial justice had failedto make an impression. 

So his career as a detective came to an inglorious end. "Say, man!" heexclaimed "What's your game, anyhow?"

"Game?" said the other, quietly. "How do you mean?"

"I mean, what are you here for?"

"I'm here for two dollars a day--the same as you, I guess. "

Hal began to laugh. "You and I are like a couple of submarines, tryingto find each other under water. I think we'd better come to the surfaceto do our fighting. "

The other considered the simile, and seemed to like it. "You comefirst, " said he. But he did not smile. His quiet blue eyes were fixed onHal with deadly seriousness. 

"All right, " said Hal; "my story isn't very thrilling. I'm not anescaped convict, I'm not a company spy, as you may be thinking. Nor am Ia 'natural born' coal-miner. I happen to have a brother and some friendsat home who think they know about the coal-industry, and it got on mynerves, and I came to see for myself. That's all, except that I've foundthings interesting, and want to stay on a while, so I hope you aren't a'dick'!"

The other walked in silence, weighing Hal's words. "That's not exactlywhat you'd call a usual story, " he remarked, at last. 

"I know, " replied Hal. "The best I can say for it is that it's true. "

"Well, " said the stranger, "I'll take a chance on it. I have to trustsomebody, if I'm ever to get anywhere. I picked you out because I likedyour face. " He gave Hal another searching look as he walked. "Your smileisn't that of a cheat. But you're young--so let me remind you of theimportance of secrecy in this place. "

"I'll keep mum, " said Hal; and the stranger opened a flap inside hisshirt, and drew out a letter which certified him to be Thomas Olson, anorganiser for the United Mine-Workers, the great national union of thecoal-miners!

SECTION 27. 

Hal was so startled by this discovery that he stopped in his tracks andgazed at the man. He had heard a lot about "trouble-makers" in thecamps, but so far the only kind he had seen were those hired by thecompany to make trouble for the men. But now, here was a unionorganiser! Jerry had suggested the possibility, but Hal had not thoughtof it seriously; an organiser was a mythological creature, whisperedabout by the miners, cursed by the company and its servants, and byHal's friends at home. An incendiary, a fire-brand, a loudmouthed, irresponsible person, stirring up blind and dangerous passions! Havingheard such things all his life, Hal's first impulse was of distrust. Hefelt like the one-legged old switchman who had given him a place tosleep, after his beating at Pine Creek, and who had said, "Don't youtalk no union business to me!"

Seeing Hal's emotion, the organiser gave an uneasy laugh. "While you'rehoping I'm not a 'dick, ' I trust you understand I'm hoping _you're_ notone. "

Hal's answer was to the point. "I was taken for an organiser once, " hesaid, and his hands sought the seat of his ancient bruises. 

The other laughed. "You got off with a beating? You were lucky. Down inAlabama, not so long ago, they tarred and feathered one of us. "

Dismay came upon Hal's face; but after a moment he too began to laugh. "I was just thinking about my brother and his friends--what they'd havesaid if I'd come home from Pine Creek in a coat of tar and feathers!"

"Possibly, " ventured the other, "they'd have said you got what youdeserved. "

"Yes, that seems to be their attitude. That's the rule they apply to allthe world--if anything goes wrong with you, it must he your own fault. It's a land of equal opportunity. "

"And you'll notice, " said the organiser, "that the more privilegespeople have had, the more boldly they talk that way. "

Hal began to feel a sense of comradeship with this stranger, who wasable to understand one's family troubles! It had been a long time sinceHal had talked with any one from the outside world, and he found it arelief to his mind. He remembered how, after he had got his beating, hehad lain out in the rain and congratulated himself that he was not whatthe guards had taken him for. Now he was curious about the psychology ofan organiser. A man must have strong convictions to follow thatoccupation!

He made the remark, and the other answered, "You can have my pay anytime you'll do my work. But let me tell you, too, it isn't being beatenand kicked out of camp that bothers one most; it isn't the camp-marshaland the spy and the blacklist. Your worst troubles are inside the headsof the fellows you're trying to help! Have you ever thought what itwould mean to try to explain things to men who speak twenty differentlanguages?"

"Yes, of course, " said Hal. "I wonder how you ever get a start. "

"Well, you look for an interpreter--and maybe he's a company spy. Ormaybe the first man you try to convert reports you to the boss. For, ofcourse, some of the men are cowards, and some of them are crooks;they'll sell out the next fellow for a better 'place'--maybe for a glassof beer. "

"That must have a tendency to weaken your convictions, " said Hal. 

"No, " said the other, in a matter of fact tone. "It's hard, but onecan't blame the poor devils. They're ignorant--kept so deliberately. Thebosses bring them here, and have a regular system to keep them fromgetting together. And of course these European peoples have their oldprejudices--national prejudices, religious prejudices, that keep themapart. You see two fellows, one you think is exactly as miserable as theother--but you find him despising the other, because back home he wasthe other's superior. So they play into the bosses' hands. "

SECTION 28. 

They had come to a remote place in the canyon, and found themselvesseats on a flat rock, where they could talk in comfort. 

"Put yourself in their place, " said the organiser. "They're in a strangecountry, and one person tells them one thing, and another tells themsomething else. The masters and their agents say: 'Don't trust the unionagitators. They're a lot of grafters, they live easy and don't have towork. They take your money and call you out on strike, and you lose yourjobs and your home; they sell you out, maybe, and go on to some otherplace to repeat the same trick. ' And the workers think maybe that'strue; they haven't the wit to see that if the union leaders are corrupt, it must be because the bosses are buying them. So you see, they'recompletely bedevilled; they don't know which way to turn. "

The man was speaking quietly, but there was a little glow of excitementin his face. "The company is forever repeating that these people aresatisfied--that it's we who are stirring them up. But are theysatisfied? You've been here long enough to know!"

"There's no need to discuss that, " Hal answered. "Of course they're notsatisfied! They've seemed to me like a lot of children crying in thedark--not knowing what's the matter with them, or who's to blame, orwhere to turn for help. "

Hal found himself losing his distrust of this man. He did not correspondin any way to Hal's imaginary picture of a union organiser; he was ablue-eyed, clean-looking young American, and instead of being wild andloud-mouthed, he seemed rather wistful. He had indignation, of course, but it did not take the form of ranting or florid eloquence; and thisrepression was making its appeal to Hal, who, in spite of his democraticimpulses, had the habits of thought of a class which shrinks fromnoisiness and over-emphasis. 

Also Hal was interested in his attitude towards the weaknesses ofworking-people. The "inertia" of the poor, which caused so many peopleto despair for them--their cowardice and instability--these were thingsabout which Hal had heard all his life. "You can't help them, " peoplewould say. "They're dirty and lazy, they drink and shirk, they betrayeach other. They've always been like that. " The idea would be summed upin a formula: "You can't change human nature!" Even Mary Burke, herselfone of the working-class, spoke of the workers in this angry andscornful way. But Olson had faith in their manhood, and went ahead toawaken and teach them. 

To his mind the path was clear and straight. "They must be taught thelesson of solidarity. As individuals, they're helpless in the power ofthe great corporations; but if they stand together, if they sell theirlabour as a unit--then they really count for something. " He paused, andlooked at the other inquiringly. "How do you feel about unions?"

Hal answered, "They're one of the things I want to find out about. Youhear this and that--there's so much prejudice on each side. I want tohelp the under dog, but I want to be sure of the right way. "

"What other way is there?" And Olson paused. "To appeal to the tenderhearts of the owners?"

"Not exactly; but mightn't one appeal to the world in general--to publicopinion? I was brought up an American, and learned to believe in mycountry. I can't think but there's some way to get justice. Maybe if themen were to go into politics--"

"Politics?" cried Olson. "My God! How long have you been in this place?"

"Only a couple of months. "

"Well, stay till November, and see what they do with the ballot-boxes inthese camps!"

"I can imagine, of course--"

"No, you can't. Any more than you could imagine the graft and themisery!"

"But if the men should take to voting together--"

"How _can_ they take to voting together--when any one who mentions theidea goes down the canyon? Why, you can't even get naturalisationpapers, unless you're a company man; they won't register you, unless theboss gives you an O. K. How are you going to make a start, unless youhave a union?"

It sounded reasonable, Hal had to admit; but he thought of the storieshe had heard about "walking delegates, " all the dreadful consequences of"union domination. " He had not meant to go in for unionism!

Olson was continuing. "We've had laws passed, a whole raft of laws aboutcoal-mining--the eight-hour law, the anti-scrip law, the company-storelaw, the mine-sprinkling law, the check-weighman law. What differencehas it made in North Valley that there are such laws on thestatute-books? Would you ever even know about them?"

"Ah, now!" said Hal. "If you put it that way--if your movement is tohave the law enforced--I'm with you!"

"But how will you get the law enforced, except by a union? No individualman can do it--it's 'down the canyon' with him if he mentions the law. In Western City our union people go to the state officials, but theynever do anything--and why? They know we haven't got the men behind us!It's the same with the politicians as it is with the bosses--the unionis the thing that counts!"

Hal found this an entirely new argument. "People don't realise thatidea--that men have to be organised to get their _legal_ rights. "

And the other threw up his hands with a comical gesture. "My God! If youwant to make a list of the things that people don't realise about usminers!"

SECTION 29. 

Olson was eager to win Hal, and went on to tell all the secrets of hiswork. He sought men who believed in unions, and were willing to take therisk of trying to convert others. In each place he visited he would geta group together, and would arrange some way to communicate with themafter he left, smuggling in propaganda literature for distribution. Sothere would be the nucleus of an organisation. In a year or two theywould have such a nucleus in every camp, and then they would be ready tocome into the open, calling meetings in the towns, and in places in thecanyons to which the miners would flock. So the flame of revolt wouldleap up; men would join the movement faster than the companies could getrid of them, and they would make a demand for their rights, backed withthe threat of a strike throughout the entire district. 

"You understand, " added Olson, "we have a legal right to organise--eventhough the bosses disapprove. You need not stand back on that score. "

"Yes, " said Hal; "but it occurs to me that as a matter of tactics, itwould be better here in North Valley if you chose some issue there'sless controversy about; if, for instance, you'd concentrate on getting acheck-weighman. "

The other smiled. "We'd have to have a union to back the demand; sowhat's the difference?"

"Well, " argued Hal, "there are prejudices to be reckoned with. Somepeople don't like the idea of a union--they think it means tyranny andviolence--"

The organiser laughed. "You aren't convinced but that it does yourself, are you! Well, all I can tell you is, if you want to tackle the job ofgetting a check-weighman in North Valley, I'll not stand in your way!"

Here was an idea--a real idea! Life had grown dull for Hal since he hadbecome a buddy, working in a place five feet high. This would promiselivelier times!

But was it a thing he wanted to do? So far he had been an observer ofconditions in this coal-camp. He had convinced himself that conditionswere cruel, and he had pretty well convinced himself that the crueltywas needless and deliberate. But when it came to a question of an actionto be taken--then he hesitated, and old prejudices and fears madethemselves heard. He had been told that labour was "turbulent" and"lazy, " that it had to be "ruled with a strong hand"; now, was hewilling to weaken the strong hand, to ally himself with those who"fomented labour troubles"?

But this would not be the same thing, he told himself. This suggestionof Olson's was different from trade unionism, which might be ademoralising force, leading the workers from one demand to another, until they were seeking to "dominate industry. " This would be merely anappeal to the law, a test of that honesty and fair dealing to which thecompany everywhere laid claim. If, as the bosses proclaimed, the workerswere fully protected by the check-weighman law; if, as all the world wasmade to believe, the reason there was no check-weighman was simplybecause the men did not ask for one--why, then there would be no harmdone. If on the other hand a demand for a right that was not merely alegal right, but a moral right as well--if that were taken by the bossesas an act of rebellion against the company--well, Hal would understand alittle more about the "turbulence" of labour! If, as Old Mike andJohannson and the rest maintained, the bosses would "make your life onedamn misery" till you left--then he would be ready to make a few damnmiseries for the bosses in return!

"It would be an adventure, " said Hal, suddenly. 

And the other laughed. "It would that!"

"You're thinking I'll have another Pine Creek experience, " Hal added. "Well, maybe so--but I have to try things out for myself. You see, I'vegot a brother at home, and when I think about going in for revolution, Ihave imaginary arguments with him. I want to be able to say 'I didn'tswallow anybody's theories; I tried it for myself, and this is whathappened. '"

"Well, " replied the organiser, "that's all right. But while you'reseeking education for yourself and your brother, don't forget that I'vealready got my education. I _know_ what happens to men who ask for acheck-weighman, and I can't afford to sacrifice myself proving itagain. "

"I never asked you to, " laughed Hal. "If I won't join your movement, Ican't expect you to join mine! But if I can find a few men who arewilling to take the risk of making a demand for a check-weighman--thatwon't hurt your work, will it?"

"Sure not!" said the other. "Just the opposite--it'll give me an objectlesson to point to. There are men here who don't even know they've alegal right to a check-weighman. There are others who know they don'tget their weights, but aren't sure its the company that's cheating them. If the bosses should refuse to let any one inspect the weights, if theyshould go further and fire the men who ask it--well, there'll be plentyof recruits for my union local!"

"All right, " said Hal. "I'm not setting out to recruit your union local, but if the company wants to recruit it, that's the company's affair!"And on this bargain the two shook hands. 

BOOK TWO

THE SERFS OF KING COAL

SECTION 1. 

Hal was now started upon a new career, more full of excitements thanthat of stableman or buddy, with perils greater than those of fallingrock or the hind feet of mules in the stomach. The inertia whichoverwork produces had not had time to become a disease with him; youthwas on his side, with its zest for more and yet more experience. Hefound it thrilling to be a conspirator, to carry about with him secretsas dark and mysterious as the passages of the mine in which he worked. 

But Jerry Minetti, the first person he told of Tom Olson's purpose inNorth Valley, was older in such thrills. The care-free look which Jerrywas accustomed to wear vanished abruptly, and fear came into his eyes. "I know it come some day, " he exclaimed--"trouble for me and Rosa!"

"How do you mean?"

"We get into it--get in sure. I say Rosa, 'Call yourself Socialist--whatgood that do? No help any. No use to vote here--they don't count noSocialist vote, only for joke!' I say, 'Got to have union. Got tostrike!' But Rosa say, 'Wait little bit. Save little bit money, letchildren grow up. Then we help, no care if we no got any home. '"

"But we're not going to start a union now!" objected Hal. "I haveanother plan for the present. "

Jerry, however, was not to be put at ease. "No can wait!" he declared. "Men no stand it! I say, 'It come some day quick--like blow-up in mine!Somebody start fight, everybody fight. '" And Jerry looked at Rosa, whosat with her black eyes fixed anxiously upon her husband. "We get intoit, " he said; and Hal saw their eyes turn to the room where Little Jerryand the baby were sleeping. 

Hal said nothing--he was beginning to understand the meaning ofrebellion to such people. He watched with curiosity and pity thestruggle that went on; a struggle as old as the soul of man--between thevoice of self-interest, of comfort and prudence, and the call of duty, of the ideal. No trumpet sounded for this conflict, only the still smallvoice within. 

After a while Jerry asked what it was Hal and Olson had planned; and Halexplained that he wanted to make a test of the company's attitude towardthe check-weighman law. Hal thought it a fine scheme; what did Jerrythink?

Jerry smiled sadly. "Yes, fine scheme for young feller--no got family!"

"That's all right, " said Hal, "I'll take the job--I'll be thecheck-weighman. "

"Got to have committee, " said Jerry--"committee go see boss. "

"All right, but we'll get young fellows for that too--men who have nofamilies. Some of the fellows who live in the chicken-coops inshanty-town. They won't care what happens to them. "

But Jerry would not share Hal's smile. "No got sense 'nough, themfellers. Take sense to stick together. " He explained that they wouldneed a group of men to stand back of the committee; such a group wouldhave to be organised, to hold meetings in secret--it would bepractically the same thing as a union, would be so regarded by thebosses and their spotters. And no organisation of any sort was permittedin the camps. There had been some Serbians who had wanted to belong to afraternal order back in their home country, but even that had beenforbidden. If you wanted to insure your life or your health, the companywould attend to it--and get the profit from it. For that matter, youcould not even buy a post-office money-order, to send funds back to theold country; the post-office clerk, who was at the same time a clerk inthe company-store, would sell you some sort of a store-draft. 

So Hal was facing the very difficulties about which Olson had warnedhim. The first of them was Jerry's fear. Yet Hal knew that Jerry was no"coward"; if any man had a contempt for Jerry's attitude, it was becausehe had never been in Jerry's place!

"All I'll ask of you now is advice, " said Hal. "Give me the names ofsome young fellows who are trustworthy, and I'll get their help withoutanybody suspecting you. "

"You my boarder!" was Jerry's reply to this. 

So again Hal was "up against it. " "You mean that would get you intotrouble?"

"Sure! They know we talk. They know I talk Socialism, anyhow. They fireme sure!"

"But how about your cousin, the pit-boss in Number One?"

"He no help. May be get fired himself. Say damn fool--boardcheck-weighman!"

"All right, " said Hal. "Then I'll move away now, before it's too late. You can say I was a trouble-maker, and you turned me off. "

The Minettis sat gazing at each other--a mournful pair. They hated tolose their boarder, who was such good company, and paid them such goodmoney. As for Hal, he felt nearly as bad, for he liked Jerry and hisgirl-wife, and Little Jerry--even the black-eyed baby, who made so muchnoise and interrupted conversation!

"No!" said Jerry. "I no run, away! I do my share!"

"That's all right, " replied Hal. "You do your share--but not just yet. You stay on in the camp and help Olson after I'm fired. We don't wantthe best men put out at once. "

So, after further argument, it was decided, and Hal saw little Rosa sinkback in her chair and draw a deep breath of relief. The time formartyrdom was put off; her little three-roomed cabin, her furniture andher shining pans and her pretty white lace curtains, might be hers for afew weeks longer!

SECTION 2. 

Hal went back to Reminitsky's boarding-house; a heavy sacrifice, but notwithout its compensations, because it gave him more chance to talk withthe men. 

He and Jerry made up a list of those who could be trusted with thesecret: the list beginning with the name of Mike Sikoria. To be put on acommittee, and sent to interview a boss, would appeal to Old Mike as thepurpose for which he had been put upon earth! But they would not tellhim about it until the last minute, for fear lest in his excitement hemight shout out the announcement the next time he lost one of his cars. 

There was a young Bulgarian miner named Wresmak who worked near Hal. Theroad into this man's room ran up an incline, and he had hardly been ableto push his "empties" up the grade. While he was sweating and strainingat the task, Alec Stone had come along, and having a giant's contemptfor physical weakness, began to cuff him. The man raised hisarm--whether in offence or to ward off the blow, no one could be sure;but Stone fell upon him and kicked him all the way down the passage, pouring out upon him furious curses. Now the man was in another room, where he had taken out over forty car-loads of rock, and been allowedonly three dollars for it. No one who watched his face when the pit-bosspassed would doubt that this man would be ready to take his chances in amovement of protest. 

Then there was a man whom Jerry knew, who had just come out of thehospital, after contact with the butt-end of the camp-marshal'srevolver. This was a Pole, who unfortunately did not know a word ofEnglish; but Olson, the organiser, had got into touch with another Pole, who spoke a little English, and would pass the word on to hisfellow-countryman. Also there was a young Italian, Rovetta, whom Jerryknew and whose loyalty he could vouch for. 

There was another person Hal thought of--Mary Burke. He had beendeliberately avoiding her of late; it seemed the one safe thing todo--although it seemed also a cruel thing, and left his mind ill atease. He went over and over what had happened. How had the trouble gotstarted? It is a man's duty in such cases to take the blame uponhimself; but a man does not like to take blame upon himself, and hetries to make it as light as possible. Should Hal say that it wasbecause he had been too officious that night in helping Mary where thepath was rough? She had not actually needed such help, she was quite ascapable on her feet as he! But he had really gone farther than that--hehad had a definite sentimental impulse; and he had been a cad--he shouldhave known all along that all this girl's discontent, all the longing ofher starved soul, would become centred upon him, who was so "different, "who had had opportunity, who made her think of the "poetry-books"!

But here suddenly seemed a solution of the difficulty; here was a newinterest for Mary, a safe channel in which her emotions could run. Awoman could not serve on a miners' committee, but she would be a goodadviser, and her sharp tongue would be a weapon to drive others intoline. Being aflame with this enterprise, Hal became impersonal, man-fashion--and so fell into another sentimental trap! He did not stopto think that Mary's interest in the check-weighman movement might beconditioned in part by a desire to see more of him; still less did itoccur to him that he might be glad for a pretext to see Mary. 

No, he was picturing her in a new role, an activity more inspiritingthan cooking and nursing. His "poetry-book" imagination took fire; hegave her a hope and a purpose, a pathway with a goal at the end. Hadthere not been women leaders in every great proletarian movement?

He went to call on her, and met her at the door of her cabin. "'Tis acheerin' sight to see ye, Joe Smith!" she said. And she looked him inthe eye and smiled. 

"The same to you, Mary Burke!" he answered. 

She was game, he saw; she was going to be a "good sport. " But he noticedthat she was paler than when he had seen her last. Could it be thatthese gorgeous Irish complexions ever faded? He thought that she wasthinner too; the old blue calico seemed less tight upon her. 

Hal plunged into his theme. "Mary, I had a vision of you to-day!"

"Of me, lad? What's that?"

He laughed. "I saw you with a glory in your face, and your hair shininglike a crown of gold. You were mounted on a snow-white horse, and wore arobe of white, soft and lustrous--like Joan of Arc, or a leader in asuffrage parade. You were riding at the head of a host--I've still gotthe music in my ears, Mary!"

"Go on with ye, lad--what's all this about?"

"Come in and I'll tell you, " he said. 

So they went into the bare kitchen, and sat in bare wooden chairs--Maryfolding her hands in her lap like a child who has been promised afairy-story. "Now hurry, " said she. "I want to know about this new dressye're givin' me. Are ye tired of me old calico?"

He joined in her smile. "This is a dress you will weave for yourself, Mary, out of the finest threads of your own nature--out of courage anddevotion and self-sacrifice. "

"Sure, 'tis the poetry-book again! But what is it ye're really meanin'?"

He looked about him. "Is anybody here?"

"Nobody. "

But instinctively he lowered his voice as he told his story. There wasan organiser of the "big union" in the camp, and he was going to rousethe slaves to protest. 

The laughter went out of Mary's face. "Oh! It's that!" she said, in aflat tone. The vision of the snow-white horse and the soft and lustrousrobe was gone. "Ye can never do anything of that sort here!"

"Why not?"

"'Tis the men in this place. Don't ye remember what I told ye at Mr. Rafferty's? They're cowards!"

"Ah, Mary, it's easy to say that. But it's not so pleasant being turnedout of your home--"

"Do ye have to tell me that?" she cried, with sudden passion. "Haven't Iseen that?"

"Yes, Mary; but I want to _do_ something--"

"Yes, and haven't I wanted to do something? Sure, I've wanted to biteoff the noses of the bosses!"

"Well, " he laughed, "we'll make that a part of our programme. " But Marywas not to be lured into cheerfulness; her mood was so full of pain andbewilderment that he had an impulse to reach out and take her handagain. But he checked that; he had come to divert her energies into asafe channel!

"We must waken these men to resistance, Mary!"

"Ye can't do it, Joe--not the English-speakin' men. The Greeks and theBulgars, maybe--they're fightin' at home, and they might fight here. Butthe Irish never--never! Them that had any backbone went out long ago. Them that stayed has been made into boot-licks. I know them, every manof them. They grumble, and curse the boss, but then they think of theblacklist, and they go back and cringe at his feet. "

"What such men want--"

"'Tis booze they want, and carousin' with the rotten women in thecoal-towns, and sittin' up all night winnin' each other's money with agreasy pack of cards! They take their pleasure where they find it, and'tis nothin' better they want. "

"Then, Mary, if that's so, don't you see it's all the more reason fortrying to teach them? If not for their own sakes, for the sake of theirchildren! The children, mustn't grow up like that! They are learningEnglish, at least--"

Mary gave a scornful laugh. "Have ye been up to that school?"

He answered no; and she told him there were a hundred and twentychildren packed in one room, three in a seat, and solid all round thewall. She went on, with swift anger--the school was supposed to be paidfor out of taxes, but as nobody owned any property but the company, itwas all in the company's hands. The school-board consisted of Mr. Cartwright, the mine-superintendent, and Jake Predovich, a clerk in thestore, and the preacher, the Reverend Spraggs. Old Spraggs would bumphis nose on the floor if the "super" told him to. 

"Now, now!" said Hal, laughing. "You're down on him because hisgrandfather was an Orangeman!"

SECTION 3. 

Mary Burke had been suckled upon despair, and the poison of it was deepin her blood. Hal began to realise that it would be as hard to give hera hope as to rouse the workers whom she despised. She was brave enough, no doubt, but how could he persuade her to be brave for men who had nocourage for themselves?

"Mary, " he said, "in your heart you don't really hate these people. Youknow how they suffer, you pity them for it. You give their children yourlast cent when they need it--"

"Ah, lad!" she cried, and he saw tears suddenly spring into her eyes. "'Tis because I love them so that I hate them! Sometimes 'tis the bossesI would murder, sometimes 'tis the men. What is it ye're wantin' me todo?"

And then, even before he could answer, she began to run over the list ofher acquaintances in the camp. Yes, there was one man Hal ought to talkto; he would be too old to join them, but his advice would beinvaluable, and they could be sure he would never betray them. That wasold John Edstrom, a Swede from Minnesota, who had worked in thisdistrict from the time the mines had first started up. He had beenactive in the great strike eight years ago, and had been black-listed, his four sons with him. The sons were scattered now to the four parts ofthe world, but the father had stayed nearby, working as a ranch-hand andrailroad labourer, until a couple of years ago, during a rush season, hehad got a chance to come back into the mines. 

He was old, old, declared Mary--must be sixty. And when Hal remarkedthat that did not sound so frightfully aged, she answered that oneseldom heard of a man being able to work in a coal-mine at that age; infact, there were not many who managed to live to that age. Edstrom'swife was dying now, and he was having a hard time. 

"'Twould not be fair to let such an old gentleman lose his job, " saidMary. "But at least he could give ye good advice. "

So that evening the two of them went to call on John Edstrom, in a tinyunpainted cabin in "shanty-town, " with a bare earth floor, and a halfpartition of rough boards to hide his dying wife from his callers. Thewoman's trouble was cancer, and this made calling a trying matter, forthere was a fearful odour in the place. For some time it was impossiblefor Hal to force himself to think about anything else; but finally heovercame this weakness, telling himself that this was a war, and that aman must be ready for the hospital as well as for the parade-ground. 

He looked about, and saw that the cracks of Edstrom's cabin were stoppedwith rags, and the broken windowpanes mended with brown paper. The oldman had evidently made an effort to keep the place neat, and Hal noticeda row of books on a shelf. Because it was cold in these mountain regionsat night, even in September, the old man had a fire in the littlecast-iron stove, and sat huddled by it. There were only a few hairs lefton his head, and his scrubby beard was as white as anything could be ina coal-camp. The first impression of his face was of its pallor, andthen of the benevolence in the faded dark eyes; also his voice wasgentle, like a caress. He rose to greet his visitors, and put out to Hala trembling hand, which resembled the paw of some animal, horny andmisshapen. He made a move to draw up a bench, and apologised for hisunskillful house-keeping. It occurred to Hal that a man might be able towork in a coal-mine at sixty, and not be able to work in it atsixty-one. 

Hal had requested Mary to say nothing about his purpose, until after hehad a chance to judge for himself. So now the girl inquired about Mrs. Edstrom. There was no news, the man answered; she was lying in a stupor, as usual. Dr. Barrett had come again, but all he could do was to giveher morphine. No one could do any more, the doctor declared. 

"Sure, he'd not know it if they could!" sniffed Mary. 

"He's not such a bad one, when he's sober, " said Edstrom, patiently. 

"And how often is that?" sniffed Mary again. She added, by way ofexplanation to Hal, "He's a cousin of the super. "

Things were better here than in some places, said Edstrom. At Harvey'sRun, where he had worked, a man had got his eye hurt, and had lost itthrough the doctor's instrument slipping; broken arms and legs had beenset wrong, and either the men had to go through life as cripples, or goelsewhere and have the bones re-broken and reset, It was like everythingelse--the doctor was a part of the company machine, and if you had toomuch to say about him, it was down the canyon with you. You not only hada dollar a month taken out of your pay, but if you were injured, and hecame to attend you, he would charge whatever extra he pleased. 

"And you have to pay?" asked Hal. 

"They take it off your account, " said the old man. 

"Sometimes they take it when he's done nothin' at all, " added Mary. "They charged Mrs. Zamboni twenty-five dollars for her last baby--andDr. Barrett never set foot across her door till three hours after thebaby was in my arms!"

SECTION 4. 

The talk went on. Wishing to draw the old man out, Hal spoke of varioustroubles of the miners, and at last he suggested that the remedy mightbe found in a union. Edstrom's dark eyes studied him, and then turned toMary. "Joe's all right, " said the girl, quickly. "You can trust him. "

Edstrom made no direct answer to this, but remarked that he had oncebeen in a strike. He was a marked man, now, and could only stay in thecamp so long as he attended strictly to his own affairs. The part he hadplayed in the big strike had never been forgotten; the bosses had lethim work again, partly because they had needed him at a rush time, andpartly because the pit-boss happened to be a personal friend. 

"Tell him about the big strike, " said Mary. "He's new in this district. "

The old man had apparently accepted Mary's word for Hal's good faith, for he began to narrate those terrible events which were a whisperedtradition of the camps. There had been a mighty effort of ten thousandslaves for freedom; and it had been crushed with utter ruthlessness. Ever since these mines had been started, the operators had controlledthe local powers of government, and now, in the emergency, they hadbrought in the state militia as well, and used it frankly to drive thestrikers back to work. They had seized the leaders and active men, andthrown them into jail without trial or charges; when the jails wouldhold no more, they kept some two hundred in an open stockade, called a"bull-pen, " and finally they loaded them into freight-cars, took them atnight out of the state, and dumped them off in the midst of the desertwithout food or water. 

John Edstrom had been one of these men. He told how one of his sons hadbeen beaten and severely injured in jail, and how another had been keptfor weeks in a damp cellar, so that he had come out crippled withrheumatism for life. The officers of the state militia had done thesethings; and when some of the local authorities were moved to protest, the militia had arrested them--even the judges of the civil courts hadbeen forbidden to sit, under threat of imprisonment. "To hell with theconstitution!" had been the word of the general in command; hissubordinate had made famous the saying, "No habeas corpus; we'll givethem post-mortems!"

Tom Olson had impressed Hal with his self-control, but this old man madean even deeper impression upon him. As he listened, he became humble, touched with awe. Incredible as it might seem, when John Edstrom talkedabout his cruel experiences, it was without bitterness in his voice, andapparently without any in his heart. Here, in the midst of want anddesolation, with his family broken and scattered, and the wolf ofstarvation at his door, he could look back upon the past without hatredof those who had ruined him. Nor was this because he was old and feeble, and had lost the spirit of revolt; it was because he had studiedeconomics, and convinced himself that it was an evil system whichblinded men's eyes and poisoned their souls. A better day was coming, hesaid, when this evil system would be changed, and it would be possiblefor men to be merciful to one another. 

At this point in the conversation, Mary Burke gave voice once more toher corroding despair. How could things ever be changed? The bosses weremean-hearted, and the men were cowards and traitors. That left nobodybut God to do the changing--and God had left things as they were forsuch a long time!

Hal was interested to hear how Edstrom dealt with this attitude. "Mary, "he said, "did you ever read about ants in Africa?"

"No, " said she. 

"They travel in long columns, millions and millions of them. And whenthey come to a ditch, the front ones fall in, and more and more of themon top, till they fill up the ditch, and the rest cross over. We areants, Mary. "

"No matter how many go in, " cried the girl, "none will ever get across. There's no bottom to the ditch!"

He answered: "That's more than any ant can know. Mary. All they know isto go in. They cling to each other's bodies, even in death; they make abridge, and the rest go over. "

"I'll step one side!" she declared, fiercely. "I'll not throw meselfaway. "

"You may step one side, " answered the other--"but you'll step back intoline again. I know you better than you know yourself, Mary. "

There was silence in the little cabin. The winds of an early fallshrilled outside, and life suddenly seemed to Hal a stern and mercilessthing. He had thought in his youthful fervour it would be thrilling tobe a revolutionist; but to be an ant, one of millions and millions, toperish in a bottomless ditch--that was something a man could hardlybring himself to face! He looked at the bowed figure of this whitehaired toiler, vague in the feeble lamplight, and found himself thinkingof Rembrandt's painting, the Visit of Emmaus: the ill-lighted room inthe dirty tavern, and the two ragged men, struck dumb by the glow oflight about the forehead of their table-companion. It was not fantasticto imagine a glow of light about the forehead of this soft-voiced oldman!

"I never had any hope it would come in my time, " the old man was sayinggently. "I did use to hope my boys might see it--but now I'm not sureeven of that. But in all my life I never doubted that some day theworking-people will cross over to the promised land. They'll no longerbe slaves, and what they make won't be wasted by idlers. And take itfrom one who knows, Mary--for a workingman or woman not to have thatfaith, is to have lost the reason for living. "

Hal decided that it would be safe to trust this man, and told him of hischeck-weighman plan. "We only want your advice, " he explained, remembering Mary's warning. "Your sick wife--"

But the old man answered, sadly, "She's almost gone, and I'll soon befollowing. What little strength I have left might as well be used forthe cause. "

SECTION 5. 

This business of conspiracy was grimly real to men whose living came outof coal; but Hal, even at the most serious moments, continued to find init the thrill of romance. He had read stories of revolutionists, and ofthe police who hunted them. That such excitements were to be had inRussia, he knew; but if any one had told him they could be had in hisown free America, within a few hours' journey of his home city and hiscollege-town, he could not have credited the statement. 

The evening after his visit to Edstrom, Hal was stopped on the street byhis boss. Encountering him suddenly, Hal started, like a pick-pocket whoruns into a policeman. 

"Hello, kid, " said the pit-boss. 

"Hello, Mr. Stone, " was the reply. 

"I want to talk to you, " said the boss. 

"All right, sir. " And then, under his breath, "He's got me!"

"Come up to my house, " said Stone; and Hal followed, feeling as ifhand-cuffs were already on his wrists. 

"Say, " said the man, as they walked, "I thought you were going to tellme if you'd heard any talk. "

"I haven't heard any, sir. "

"Well, " continued Stone, "you want to get busy; there's sure to bekickers in every coal-camp. " And deep within, Hal drew a sigh of relief. It was a false alarm!

They came to the boss's house, and he took a chair on the piazza andmotioned Hal to take another. They sat in semi-darkness, and Stonedropped his voice as he began. "What I want to talk to you about now issomething else--this election. "

"Election, sir?"

"Didn't you know there was one? The Congressman in this district died, and there's a special election three weeks from next Tuesday. "

"I see, sir. " And Hal chuckled inwardly. He would get the informationwhich Tom Olson had recommended to him!

"You ain't heard any talk about it?" inquired the pit-boss. 

"Nothing at all, sir. I never pay much attention to politics--it ain'tin my line. "

"Well, that's the way I like to hear a miner talk!" said the pit-boss, with heartiness. "If they all had sense enough to leave politics to thepoliticians, they'd be a sight better off. What they need is to tend totheir own jobs. "

"Yes, sir, " agreed Hal, meekly--"like I had to tend to them mules, if Ididn't want to get the colic. "

The boss smiled appreciatively. "You've got more sense than most of 'em. If you'll stand by me, there'll be a chance for you to move up in theworld. "

"Thank you, Mr. Stone, " said Hal. "Give me a chance. "

"Well now, here's this election. Every year they send us a bunch ofcampaign money to handle. A bit of it might come your way. "

"I could use it, I reckon, " said Hal, brightening visibly. "What is ityou want?"

There was a pause, while Stone puffed on his pipe. He went on, in abusiness-like manner. "What I want is somebody to feel things out a bit, and let me know the situation. I thought it better not to use the menthat generally work for me, but somebody that wouldn't be suspected. Down in Sheridan and Pedro they say the Democrats are making a big stir, and the company's worried. I suppose you know the 'G. F. C. ' isRepublican. "

"I've heard so. "

"You might think a congressman don't have much to do with us, way off inWashington; but it has a bad effect to have him campaigning, telling themen the company's abusing them. So I'd like you just to kind o'circulate a bit, and start the men on politics, and see if any of themhave been listening to this MacDougall talk. (MacDougall's this hereDemocrat, you know. ) And I want to find out whether they've been sendingin literature to this camp, or have any agents here. You see, they claimthe right to come in and make speeches, and all that sort of thing. North Valley's an incorporated town, so they've got the law on theirside, in a way, and if we shut 'em out, they make a howl in the papers, and it looks bad. So we have to get ahead of them in quiet ways. Fortunately there ain't any hall in the camp for them to meet in, andwe've made a local ordinance against meetings on the street. If they tryto bring in circulars, something has to happen to them before they getdistributed. See?"

"I see, " said Hal; he thought of Tom Olson's propaganda literature!

"We'll pass the word out, --it's the Republican the company wantselected; and you be on the lookout and see how they take it in thecamp. "

"That sounds easy enough, " said Hal. "But tell me, Mr. Stone, why do youbother? Do so many of these wops have votes?"

"It ain't the wops so much. We get them naturalised on purpose--theyvote our way for a glass of beer. But the English-speaking men, or theforeigners that's been here too long, and got too big for theirbreeches--they're the ones we got to watch. If they get to talkingpolitics, they don't stop there; the first thing you know, they'relistening to union agitators, and wanting to run the camp. "

"Oh yes, I see!" said Hal, and wondered if his voice sounded right. 

But the pit-boss was concerned with his own troubles. "As I told SiAdams the other day, what I'm looking for is fellows that talk some newlingo--one that nobody will ever understand! But I suppose that would betoo easy. There's no way to keep them from learning some English!"

Hal decided to make use of this opportunity to perfect his education. "Surely, Mr. Stone, " he remarked, "you don't have to count any votes ifyou don't want to!"

"Well, I'll tell you, " replied Stone; "it's a question of the easiestway to manage things. When I was superintendent over to Happy Gulch, wedidn't waste no time on politics. The company was Democratic at thattime, and when election night come, we wrote down four hundred votes forthe Democratic candidates. But the first thing we knew, a bunch offellers was taken into town and got to swear they'd voted the Republicanticket in our camp. The Republican papers were full of it, and some fooljudge ordered a recount, and we had to get busy over night and mark up anew lot of ballots. It gave us a lot of bother!"

The pit-boss laughed, and Hal joined him discreetly. 

"So you see, you have to learn to manage. If there's votes for the wrongcandidate in your camp, the fact gets out, and if the returns is tooone-sided, there's a lot of grumbling. There's plenty of bosses thatdon't care, but I learned my lesson that time, and I got my ownmethod--that is not to let any opposition start. See?"

"Yes, I see. "

"Maybe a mine-boss has got no right to meddle in politics--but there'sone thing he's got the say about, and that is who works in his mine. It's the easiest thing to weed out--weed out--" Hal never forgot themotion of beefy hands with which Alec Stone illustrated these words. Ashe went on, the tones of his voice did not seem so good-natured asusual. "The fellows that don't want to vote my way can go somewhere elseto do their voting. That's all I got to say on politics!"

There was a brief pause, while Stone puffed on his pipe. Then it mayhave occurred to him that it was not necessary to go into so much detailin breaking in a political recruit. When he resumed, it was in agood-natured tone of dismissal. "That's what you do, kid. To-morrow youget a sprained wrist, so you can't work for a few days, and that'll giveyou a chance to bum round and hear what the men are saying. Meantime, I'll see you get your wages. "

"That sounds all right, " said Hal; but showing only a small part of hissatisfaction!

The pit-boss rose from his chair and knocked the ashes from his pipe. "Mind you--I want the goods. I've got other fellows working, and I'mcomparing 'em. For all you know, I may have somebody watching you. "

"Yes, " said Hal, and grinned cheerfully. "I'll not fail to bear that inmind. "

SECTION 6. 

The first thing Hal did was to seek out Tom Olson and narrate thisexperience. The two of them had a merry time over it. "I'm the favouriteof a boss now!" laughed Hal. 

But the organiser became suddenly serious. "Be careful what you do forthat fellow. "

"Why?"

"He might use it on you later on. One of the things they try to do ifyou make any trouble for them, is to prove that you took money fromthem, or tried to. "

"But he won't have any proofs. "

"That's my point--don't give him any. If Stone says you've been playingthe political game for him, then some fellow might remember that you didask him about politics. So don't have any marked money on you. "

Hal laughed. "Money doesn't stay on me very long these days. But whatshall I say if he asks me for a report?"

"You'd better put your job right through, Joe--so that he won't havetime to ask for any report. "

"All right, " was the reply. "But just the same, I'm going to get all thefun there is, being the favourite of a boss!"

And so, early the next morning when Hal went to his work he proceeded to"sprain his wrist. " He walked about in pain, to the great concern of OldMike; and when finally he decided that he would have to lay off, Mikefollowed him half way to the shaft, giving him advice about hot and coldcloths. Leaving the old Slovak to struggle along as best he could alone, Hal went out to bask in the wonderful sunshine of the upper world, andthe still more wonderful sunshine of a boss's favour. 

First he went to his room at Reminitsky's, and tied a strip of old shirtabout his wrist, and a clean handkerchief on top of that; by this symbolhe was entitled to the freedom of the camp and the sympathy of all men, and so he sallied forth. 

Strolling towards the tipple of Number One, he encountered a wiry, quick-moving little man, with restless black eyes and a lean, intelligent face. He wore a pair of common miner's "jumpers, " but evenso, he was not to be taken for a workingman. Everything about him spokeof authority. 

"Morning, Mr. Cartwright, " said Hal. 

"Good morning, " replied the superintendent; then, with a glance at Hal'sbandage, "You hurt?"

"Yes, sir. Just a bit of sprain, but I thought I'd better lay off. "

"Been to the doctor?"

"No, sir. I don't think it's that bad. "

"You'd better go. You never know how bad a sprain is. "

"Right, sir, " said Hal. Then, as the superintendent was passing, "Do youthink, Mr. Cartwright, that MacDougall stands any chance of beingelected?"

"I don't know, " replied the other, surprised. "I hope not. You aren'tgoing to vote for him, are you?"

"Oh, no. I'm a Republican--born that way. But I wondered if you'd heardany MacDougall talk. "

"Well, I'm hardly the one that would hear it. You take an interest inpolitics?"

"Yes, sir--in a way. In fact, that's how I came to get this wrist. "

"How's that? In a fight?"

"No, sir; but you see, Mr. Stone wanted me to feel out sentiment in thecamp, and he told me I'd better sprain my wrist and lay off. "

The "super, " after staring at Hal, could not keep from laughing. Then helooked about him. "You want to be careful, talking about such things. "

"I thought I could surely trust the superintendent, " said Hal, drily. 

The other measured him with his keen eyes; and Hal, who was getting thespirit of political democracy, took the liberty of returning the gaze. "You're a wide-awake young fellow, " said Cartwright, at last. "Learn theropes here, and make yourself useful, and I'll see you're not passedover. "

"All right, sir--thank you. "

"Maybe you'll be made an election-clerk this time. That's worth threedollars a day, you know. "

"Very good, sir. " And Hal put on his smile again. "They tell me you'rethe mayor of North Valley. "

"I am. "

"And the justice of the peace is a clerk in your store. Well, Mr. Cartwright, if you need a president of the board of health or a dogcatcher, I'm your man--as soon, that is, as my wrist gets well. "

And so Hal went on his way. Such "joshing" on the part of a "buddy" wasof course absurdly presumptuous; the superintendent stood looking afterhim with a puzzled frown upon his face. 

SECTION 7. 

Hal did not look back, but turned into the company-store. "North ValleyTrading Company" read the sign over the door; within was a Serbian womanpointing out what she wanted to buy, and two little Lithuanian girlswatching the weighing of a pound of sugar. Hal strolled up to the personwho was doing the weighing, a middle-aged man with a yellow moustachestained with tobacco-juice. "Morning, Judge. "

"Huh!" was the reply from Silas Adams, justice of the peace in the townof North Valley. 

"Judge, " said Hal, "what do you think about the election?"

"I don't think about it, " said the other. "Busy weighin' sugar. "

"Anybody round here going to vote for MacDougall?"

"They better not tell me if they are!"

"What?" smiled Hal. "In this free American republic?"

"In this part of the free American republic a man is free to dig coal, but not to vote for a skunk like MacDougall. " Then, having tied up thesugar, the "J. P. " whittled off a fresh chew from his plug, and turnedto Hal. "What'll you have?"

Hal purchased half a pound of dried peaches, so that he might have anexcuse to loiter, and be able to keep time with the jaws of the Judge. While the order was being filled, he seated himself upon the counter. "You know, " said he, "I used to work in a grocery. "

"That so? Where at?"

"Peterson & Co. , in American City. " Hal had told this so often that hehad begun to believe it. 

"Pay pretty good up there?"

"Yes, pretty fair. " Then, realising that he had no idea what wouldconstitute good pay in a grocery, Hal added, quickly, "Got a bad wristhere!"

"That so?" said the other. 

He did not show much sociability; but Hal persisted, refusing to believethat any one in a country store would miss an opening to discusspolitics, even with a miner's helper. "Tell me, " said he, "just what isthe matter with MacDougall?"

"The matter with him, " said the Judge, "is that the company's againsthim. " He looked hard at the young miner. "You meddlin' in politics?" hegrowled. But the young miner's gay brown eyes showed only appreciationof the earlier response; so the "J. P. " was tempted into specifying thewould-be congressman's vices. Thus conversation started; and pretty soonthe others in the store joined in--"Bob" Johnson, bookkeeper andpost-master, and "Jake" Predovich, the Galician Jew who was a member ofthe local school-board, and knew the words for staple groceries infifteen languages. 

Hal listened to an exposition of the crimes of the political oppositionin Pedro County. Their candidate, MacDougall, had come to the state as a"tin-horn gambler, " yet now he was going around making speeches inchurches, and talking about the moral sentiment of the community. "Andhim with a district chairman keeping three families in Pedro!" declaredSi Adams. 

"Well, " ventured Hal, "if what I hear is true, the Republican chairmanisn't a plaster saint. They say he was drunk at the convention--"

"Maybe so, " said the "J. P. " "But we ain't playin' for the prohibitionvote; and we ain't playin' for the labour vote--tryin' to stir up theriff-raff in these coal-camps, promisin' 'em high wages an' short hours. Don't he know he can't get it for 'em? But he figgers he'll go off toWashington and leave us here to deal with the mess he's stirred up!"

"Don't you fret, " put in Bob Johnson--"he ain't goin' to no Washin'ton. "

The other two agreed, and Hal ventured again, "He says you stuff theballot-boxes. "

"What do you suppose his crowd is doin' in the cities? We got to meet'em some way, ain't we?"

"Oh, I see, " said Hal, naïvely. "You stuff them worse!"

"Sometimes we stuff the boxes, and sometimes we stuff the voters. " Therewas an appreciative titter from the others, and the "J. P. " was moved toreminiscence. "Two years ago I was election clerk, over to Sheridan, andwe found we'd let 'em get ahead of us--they had carried the whole state. 'By God, ' said Alf. Raymond, 'we'll show 'em a trick from thecoal-counties! And there won't be no recount business either!' So weheld back our returns till the rest had come in, and when we seen howmany votes we needed, we wrote 'em down. And that settled it. "

"That seems a simple method, " remarked Hal. "They'll have to get upearly to beat Alf. "

"You bet you!" said Si, with the complacency of one of the gang. "Theycall this county the 'Empire of Raymond. '"

"It must be a cinch, " said Hal--"being the sheriff, and having thenaming of so many deputies as they need in these coal-camps!"

"Yes, " agreed the other. "And there's his wholesale liquor business, too. If you want a license in Pedro county, you not only vote for Alf, but you pay your bills on time!"

"Must be a fortune in that!" remarked Hal; and the Judge, thePost-master and the School-commissioner appeared like children listeningto a story of a feast. "You bet you!"

"I suppose it takes money to run politics in this county, " Hal added. 

"Well, Alf don't put none of it up, you can bet! That's the company'sjob. "

This from the Judge; and the School-commissioner added, "De coin in desecamps is beer. "

"Oh, I see!" laughed Hal. "The companies buy Alf's beer, and use it toget him votes!"

"Sure thing!" said the Post-master. 

At this moment he happened to reach into his pocket for a cigar, and Halobserved a silver shield on the breast of his waistcoat. "That adeputy's badge?" he inquired, and then turned to examine theSchool-commissioner's costume. "Where's yours?"

"I git mine ven election comes, " said Jake, with a grin. 

"And yours, Judge?"

"I'm a justice of the peace, young feller, " said Silas, with dignity. 

Leaning round, and observing a bulge on the right hip of theSchool-commissioner, Hal put out his hand towards it. Instinctively theother moved his hand to the spot. 

Hal turned to the Post-master. "Yours?" he asked. 

"Mine's under the counter, " grinned Bob. 

"And yours, Judge?"

"Mine's in the desk, " said the Judge. 

Hal drew a breath. "Gee!" said he. "It's like a steel trap!" He managedto keep the laugh on his face, but within he was conscious of otherfeelings than those of amusement. He was losing that "first finecareless rapture" with which he had set out to run with the hare and thehounds in North Valley!

SECTION 8. 

Two days after this beginning of Hal's political career, it was arrangedthat the workers who were to make a demand for a check-weighman shouldmeet in the home of Mrs. David. When Mike Sikoria came up from the pitthat day, Hal took him aside and told him of the gathering. A look ofdelight came upon the old Slovak's face as he listened; he grabbed hisbuddy by the shoulders, crying, "You mean it?"

"Sure meant it, " said Hal. "You want to be on the committee to go andsee the boss?"

"_Pluha biedna_!" cried Mike--which is something dreadful in his ownlanguage. "By Judas, I pack up my old box again!"

Hal felt a guilty pang. Should he let this old man into the thing? "Youthink you'll have to move out of camp?" he asked. 

"Move out of state this time! Move back to old country, maybe!" And Halrealised that he could not stop him now, even if he wanted to. The oldfellow was so much excited that he hardly ate any supper, and his buddywas afraid to leave him alone, for fear he might blurt out the news. 

It had been agreed that those who attended the meeting should come oneby one, and by different routes. Hal was one of the first to arrive, andhe saw that the shades of the house had been drawn, and the lamps turnedlow. He entered by the back door, where "Big Jack" David stood on guard. "Big Jack, " who had been a member of the South Wales Federation at home, made sure of Hal's identity, and then passed him in without a word. 

Inside was Mike--the first on hand. Mrs. David, a little black-eyedwoman with a never-ceasing tongue, was bustling about, putting things inorder; she was so nervous that she could not sit still. This couple hadcome from their birth-place only a year or so ago, and had brought alltheir wedding presents to their new home--pictures and bric-a-brac andlinen. It was the prettiest home Hal had so far been in, and Mrs. Davidwas risking it deliberately, because of her indignation that her husbandhad had to foreswear his union in order to get work in America. 

The young Italian, Rovetta, came, then old John Edstrom. There being notchairs enough in the house, Mrs. David had set some boxes against thewall, covering them with cloth; and Hal noticed that each person tookone of these boxes, leaving the chairs for the later comers. Each one ashe came in would nod to the others, and then silence would fall again. 

When Mary Burke entered, Hal divined from her aspect and manner that shehad sunk back into her old mood of pessimism. He felt a momentaryresentment. He was so thrilled with this adventure; he wanted everybodyelse to be thrilled--especially Mary! Like every one who has notsuffered much, he was repelled by a condition of perpetual suffering inanother. Of course Mary had good reasons for her black moods--but sheherself considered it necessary to apologise for what she called her"complainin'"! She knew that he wanted her to help encourage the others;but here she was, putting herself in a corner and watching thiswonderful proceeding, as if she had said: "I'm an ant, and I stay inline--but I'll not pretend I have any hope in it!"

Rosa and Jerry had insisted on coming, in spite of Hal's offer to sparethem. After them came the Bulgarian, Wresmak; then the Polacks, Klowoskiand Zamierowski. Hal found these difficult names to remember, but thePolacks were not at all sensitive about this; they would gringood-naturedly while he practised, nor would they mind if he gave it upand called them Tony and Pete. They were humble men, accustomed alltheir lives to being driven about. Hal looked from one to another oftheir bowed forms and toil-worn faces, appearing more than ever sombreand mournful in the dim light; he wondered if the cruel persecutionwhich had driven them to protest would suffice to hold them in line. 

Once a newcomer, having misunderstood the orders, came to the front doorand knocked; and Hal noted that every one started, and some rose totheir feet in alarm. Again he recognised the atmosphere of novels ofRussian revolutionary life. He had to remind himself that these men andwomen, gathered here like criminals, were merely planning to ask for aright guaranteed them by the law!

The last to come was an Austrian miner named Huszar, with whom Olson hadgot into touch. Then, it being time to begin, everybody looked uneasilyat everybody else. Few of them had conspired before, and they did notknow quite how to set about it. Olson, the one who would naturally havebeen their leader, had deliberately stayed away. They must run thischeck-weighman affair for themselves!

"Somebody talk, " said Mrs. David at last; and then, as the silencecontinued, she turned to Hal. "You're going to be the check-weighman. You talk. "

"I'm the youngest man here, " said Hal, with a smile. "Some older fellowtalk. "

But nobody else smiled. "Go on!" exclaimed old Mike; and so at last Halstood up. It was something he was to experience many times in thefuture; because he was an American, and educated, he was forced into aposition of leadership. 

"As I understand it, you people want a check-weighman. Now, they tell methe pay for a check-weighman should be three dollars a day, but we'vegot only seven miners among us, and that's not enough. I will offer totake the job for twenty-five cents a day from each man, which will makea dollar-seventy-five, less than what I'm getting now as a buddy. If weget thirty men to come in, then I'll take ten cents a day from each, andmake the full three dollars. Does that seem fair?"

"Sure!" said Mike; and the others added their assent by word or nod. 

"All right. Now, there's nobody that works in this mine but knows themen don't get their weight. It would cost the company several hundreddollars a day to give us our weight, and nobody should be so foolish asto imagine they'll do it without a struggle. We've got to make up ourminds to stand together. "

"Sure, stand together!" cried Mike. 

"No get check-weighman!" exclaimed Jerry, pessimistically. 

"Not unless we try, Jerry, " said Hal. 

And Mike thumped his knee. "Sure try! And get him too!"

"Right!" cried "Big Jack. " But his little wife was not satisfied withthe response of the others. She gave Hal his first lesson in thedrilling of these polyglot masses. 

"Talk to them. Make them understand you!" And she pointed them out oneby one with her finger: "You! You! Wresmak, here, and you, Klowoski, andyou, Zam--you other Polish fellow. Want check-weighman. Want to get allweight. Get all our money. Understand?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Get committee, go see super! Want check-weighman. Understand? Got tohave check-weighman! No back down, no scare. "

"No--no scare!" Klowoski, who understood some English, explained rapidlyto Zamierowski; and Zamierowski, whose head was still plastered whereJeff Cotton's revolver had hit it, nodded eagerly in assent. In spite ofhis bruises, he would stand by the others, and face the boss. 

This suggested another question. "Who's going to do the talking to theboss?"

"You do that, " said Mrs. David, to Hal. 

"But I'm the one that's to be paid. It's not for me to talk. "

"No one else can do it right, " declared the woman. 

"Sure--got to be American feller!" said Mike. 

But Hal insisted. If he did the talking, it would look as if thecheck-weighman had been the source of the movement, and was engaged inmaking a good paying job for himself. 

There was discussion back and forth, until finally John Edstrom spokeup. "Put me on the committee. "

"You?" said Hal. "But you'll be thrown out! And what will your wife do?"

"I think my wife is going to die to-night, " said Edstrom, simply. 

He sat with his lips set tightly, looking straight before him. After apause he went on: "If it isn't to-night, it will be to-morrow, thedoctor says; and after that, nothing will matter. I shall have to godown to Pedro to bury her, and if I have to stay, it will make littledifference to me, so I might as well do what I can for the rest of you. I've been a miner all my life, and Mr. Cartwright knows it; that mighthave some weight with him. Let Joe Smith and Sikoria and myself be theones to go and see him, and the rest of you wait, and don't give up yourjobs unless you have to. "

SECTION 9. 

Having settled the matter of the committee, Hal told the assembly howAlec Stone had asked him to spy upon the men. He thought they shouldknow about it; the bosses might try to use it against him, as Olson hadwarned. "They may tell you I'm a traitor, " he said. "You must trust me. "

"We trust you!" exclaimed Mike, with fervour; and the others noddedtheir agreement. 

"All right, " Hal answered. "You can rest sure of this one thing--if Iget onto that tipple, you're going to get your weights!"

"Hear, hear!" cried "Big Jack, " in English fashion. And a murmur ranabout the room. They did not dare make much noise, but they made clearthat that was what they wanted. 

Hal sat down, and began to unroll the bandage from his wrist. "I guessI'm through with this, " he said, and explained how he had come to wearit. 

"What?" cried Old Mike. "You fool me like that?" And he caught thewrist, and when he had made sure there was no sign of swelling upon it, he shook it so that he almost sprained it really, laughing until thetears ran down his cheeks. "You old son-of-a-gun!" he exclaimed. Meantime Klowoski was telling the story to Zamierowski, and JerryMinetti was explaining it to Wresmak, in the sort of pidgin-Englishwhich does duty in the camps. Hal had never seen such real laughtersince coming to North Valley. 

But conspirators cannot lend themselves long to merriment. They cameback to business again. It was agreed that the hour for the committee'svisit to the superintendent should be quitting-time on the morrow. Andthen John Edstrom spoke, suggesting that they should agree upon theircourse of action in case they were offered violence. 

"You think there's much chance of that?" said some one. 

"Sure there be!" cried Mike Sikoria. "One time in Cedar Mountain we gosee boss, say air-course blocked. What you think he do them fellers? Hehit them one lick in nose, he kick them three times in behind, he runthem out!"

"Well, " said Hal, "if there's going to be anything like that, we must beready. "

"What you do?" demanded Jerry. 

It was time for Hal's leadership. "If he hits me one lick in the nose, "he declared, "I'll hit him one lick in the nose, that's all. "

There was a bit of applause at this. That was the way to talk! Haltasted the joys of his leadership. But then his fine self-confidence metwith a sudden check--a "lick in the nose" of his pride, so to speak. There came a woman's voice from the corner, low and grim: "Yes! And getye'self killed for all your trouble!"

He looked towards Mary Burke, and saw her vivid face, flushed andfrowning. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Would you have us turn and runaway?"

"I would that!" said she. "Rather than have ye killed, I would! What'llye do if he pulls his gun on ye?"

"Would he pull his gun on a committee?"

Old Mike broke in again. "One time in Barela--ain't I told you how Ilose my cars? I tell weigh-boss somebody steal my cars, and he pull gunon me, and he say, 'Get the hell off that tipple, you old billy-goat, Ishoot you full of holes!'"

Among his class-mates at college, Hal had been wont to argue that theproper way to handle a burglar was to call out to him, saying, "Goahead, old chap, and help yourself; there's nothing here I'm willing toget shot for. " What was the value of anything a burglar could steal, incomparison with a man's own life? And surely, one would have thought, this was a good time to apply the plausible theory. But for some reasonHal failed even to remember it. He was going ahead, precisely as if aton of coal per day was the one thing of consequence in life!

"What shall we do?" he asked. "We don't want to back out. "

But even while he asked the question, Hal was realising that Mary wasright. His was the attitude of the leisure-class person, used to havinghis own way; but Mary, though she had a temper too, was pointing thelesson of self-control. It was the second time to-night that she hadinjured his pride. But now he forgave her in his admiration; he hadalways known that Mary had a mind and could help him! His admiration wasincreased by what John Edstrom was saying--they must do nothing thatwould injure the cause of the "big union, " and so they must resolve tooffer no physical resistance, no matter what might be done to them. 

There was vehement argument on the other side. "We fight! We fight!"declared Old Mike, and cried out suddenly, as if in anticipation of thepain in his injured nose. "You say me stand that?"

"If you fight back, " said Edstrom, "we'll all get the worst of it. Thecompany will say we started the trouble, and put us in the wrong. We'vegot to make up our mind to rely on moral force. "

So, after more discussion, it was agreed; every man would keep histemper--that is, if he could! So they shook hands all round, pledgingthemselves to stand firm. But, when the meeting was declared adjourned, and they stole out one by one into the night, they were a very sober andanxious lot of conspirators. 

SECTION 10. 

Hal slept but little that night. Amid the sounds of the snoring of eightof Reminitsky's other boarders, he lay going over in his mind variousthings which might happen on the morrow. Some of them were far frompleasant things; he tried to picture himself with a broken nose, or withtar and feathers on him. He recalled his theory as to the handling ofburglars. The "G. F. C. " was a burglar of gigantic and terribleproportions; surely this was a time to call out, "Help yourself!" Butinstead of doing it, Hal thought about Edstrom's ants, and wondered atthe power which made them stay in line. 

When morning came, he went up into the mountains, where a man may wanderand renew his moral force. When the sun had descended behind themountain-tops, he descended also, and met Edstrom and Sikoria in frontof the company office. 

They nodded a greeting, and Edstrom told Hal that his wife had diedduring the day. There being no undertaker in North Valley, he hadarranged for a woman friend to take the body down to Pedro, so that hemight be free for the interview with Cartwright. Hal put his hand on theold man's shoulder, but attempted no word of condolence; he saw thatEdstrom had faced the trouble and was ready for duty. 

"Come ahead, " said the old man, and the three went into the office. While a clerk took their message to the inner office, they stood for acouple of minutes, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, andturning their caps in their hands in the familiar manner of the lowly. 

At last Mr. Cartwright appeared in the doorway, his small sparely-builtfigure eloquent of sharp authority. "Well, what's this?" he inquired. 

"If you please, " said Edstrom, "we'd like to speak to you. We'vedecided, sir, that we want to have a check-weighman. "

"_What_?" The word came like the snap of a whip. 

"We'd like to have a check-weighman, sir. "

There was a moment's silence. "Come in here. " They filed into the inneroffice, and he shut the door. 

"Now. What's this?"

Edstrom repeated his words again. 

"What put that notion into your heads?"

"Nothing, sir; only we thought we'd be better satisfied. "

"You think you're not getting your weight?"

"Well, sir, you see--some of the men--we think it would be better if wehad the check-weighman. We're willing to pay for him. "

"Who's this check-weighman to be?"

"Joe Smith, here. "

Hal braced himself to meet the other's stare. "Oh! So it's you!" Then, after a moment, "So that's why you were feeling so gay!"

Hal was not feeling in the least gay at the moment; but he forebore tosay so. There was a silence. 

"Now, why do you fellows want to throw away your money?" Thesuperintendent started to argue with them, showing the absurdity of thenotion that they could gain anything by such a course. The mine had beenrunning for years on its present system, and there had never been anycomplaint. The idea that a company as big and as responsible as the "G. F. C. " would stoop to cheat its workers out of a few tons of coal! Andso on, for several minutes. 

"Mr. Cartwright, " said Edstrom, when the other had finished, "you knowI've worked all my life in mines, and most of it in this district. I amtelling you something I know when I say there is general dissatisfactionthroughout these camps because the men feel they are not getting theirweight. You say there has been no public complaint; you understand thereason for this--"

"What is the reason?"

"Well, " said Edstrom, gently, "maybe you don't know the reason--butanyway we've decided that we want a check-weighman. "

It was evident that the superintendent had been taken by surprise, andwas uncertain how to meet the issue. "You can imagine, " he said, atlast, "the company doesn't relish hearing that its men believe it'scheating them--"

"We don't say the company knows anything about it, Mr. Cartwright. It'spossible that some people may be taking advantage of us, without eitherthe company or yourself having anything to do with it. It's for yourprotection as well as ours that a check-weighman is needed. "

"Thank you, " said the other, drily. His tone revealed that he washolding himself in by an effort. "Very well, " he added, at last. "That'senough about the matter, if your minds are made up. I'll give you mydecision later. "

This was a dismissal, and Mike Sikoria turned humbly, and started to thedoor. But Edstrom was one of the ants that did not readily "step oneside"; and Mike took a glance at him, and then stepped back into line ina hurry, as if hoping his delinquency had not been noted. 

"If you please, Mr. Cartwright, " said Edstrom, "we'd like your decision, so as to have the check-weighman start in the morning. "

"What? You're in such a hurry?"

"There's no reason for delay, sir. We've selected our man, and we'reready to pay him. "

"Who are the men who are ready to pay him? Just you two"

"I am not at liberty to name the other men, sir. "

"Oh! So it's a secret movement!"

"In a way--yes, sir. "

"Indeed!" said the superintendent, ominously. "And you don't care whatthe company thinks about it!"

"It's not that, Mr. Cartwright, but we don't see anything for thecompany to object to. It's a simple business arrangement--"

"Well, if it seems simple to you, it doesn't to me, " snapped the other. And then, getting himself in hand, "Understand me, the company would nothave the least objection to the men making sure of their weights, ifthey really think it's necessary. The company has always been willing todo the right thing. But it's not a matter that can be settled off hand. I will let you know later. "

Again they were dismissed, and again Old Mike turned, and Edstrom also. But now another ant sprang into the ditch. "Just when will you beprepared to let the check-weighman begin work, Mr. Cartwright?" askedHal. 

The superintendent gave him a sharp look, and again it could be seenthat he made a strong effort to keep his temper. "I'm not prepared tosay, " he replied. "I will let you know, as soon as convenient to me. That's all now. " And as he spoke he opened the door, putting somethinginto the action that was a command. 

"Mr. Cartwright, " said Hal, "there's no law against our having acheck-weighman, is there?"

The look which these words drew from the superintendent showed that heknew full well what the law was. Hal accepted this look as an answer, and continued, "I have been selected by a committee of the men to act astheir check-weighman, and this committee has duly notified the company. That makes me a check-weighman, I believe, Mr. Cartwright, and so all Ihave to do is to assume my duties. " Without waiting for thesuperintendent's answer, he walked to the door, followed by his somewhatshocked companions. 

SECTION 11. 

At the meeting on the night before it had been agreed to spread the newsof the check-weighman movement, for the sake of its propaganda value. Sonow when the three men came out from the office, there was a crowdwaiting to know what had happened; men clamoured questions, and each onewho got the story would be surrounded by others eager to hear. Hal madehis way to the boarding-house, and when he had finished his supper, heset out from place to place in the camp, telling the men about thecheck-weighman plan and explaining that it was a legal right they weredemanding. All this while Old Mike stayed on one side of him, andEdstrom on the other; for Tom Olson had insisted strenuously that Halshould not be left alone for a moment. Evidently the bosses had giventhe same order; for when Hal came out from Reminitsky's, there was"Jake" Predovich, the store-clerk, on the fringe of the crowd, and hefollowed wherever Hal went, doubtless making note of every one he spoketo. 

They consulted as to where they were to spend the night. Old Mike wasnervous, taking the activities of the spy to mean that they were to bethugged in the darkness. He told horrible stories of that sort of thing. What could be an easier way for the company to settle the matter? Theywould fix up some story; the world outside would believe they had beenkilled in a drunken row, perhaps over some woman. This last suggestionespecially troubled Hal; he thought of the people at home. No, he mustnot sleep in the village! And on the other hand he could not go down thecanyon, for if he once passed the gate, he might not be allowed torepass it. 

An idea occurred to him. Why not go _up_ the canyon? There was nostockade at the upper end of the village--nothing but wilderness androcks, without even a road. 

"But where we sleep?" demanded Old Mike, aghast. 

"Outdoors, " said Hal. 

"_Pluha biedna_! And get the night air into my bones?"

"You think you keep the day air in your bones when you sleep inside?"laughed Hal. 

"Why don't I, when I shut them windows tight, and cover up my bones?"

"Well, risk the night air once, " said Hal. "It's better than havingsomebody let it into you with a knife. "

"But that fellow Predovich--he follow us up canyon too!"

"Yes, but he's only one man, and we don't have to fear him. If he wentback for others, he'd never be able to find us in the darkness. "

Edstrom, whose notions of anatomy were not so crude as Mike's, gave hissupport to this suggestion; so they got their blankets and stumbled upthe canyon in the still, star-lit night. For a while they heard the spybehind them, but finally his footsteps died away, and after they hadmoved on for some distance, they believed they were safe till daylight. Hal had slept out many a night as a hunter, but it was a new adventureto sleep out as the game!

At dawn they rose, and shook the dew from their blankets, and wiped itfrom their eyes. Hal was young, and saw the glory of the morning, whilepoor Mike Sikoria groaned and grumbled over his stiff and aged joints. He thought he had ruined himself forever, but he took courage atEdstrom's mention of coffee, and they hurried down to breakfast at theirboarding-house. 

Now came a critical time, when Hal had to be left by himself. Edstromwas obliged to go down to see to his wife's funeral; and it was obviousthat if Mike Sikoria were to lay off work, he would be providing theboss with an excuse for firing him. The law which provided for acheck-weighman had failed to provide for a check-weighman's body-guard!

Hal had announced his programme in that flash of defiance inCartwright's office. As soon as work started up, he went to the tipple. "Mr. Peters, " he said, to the tipple-boss, "I've come to act ascheck-weighman. "

The tipple-boss was a man with a big black moustache, which made himlook like the pictures of Nietzsche. He stared at Hal, franklydumbfounded. "What the devil?" said he. 

"Some of the men have chosen me check-weighman, " explained Hal, in abusiness-like manner. "When their cars come up, I'll see to theirweights. "

"You keep off this tipple, young fellow!" said Peters. His manner wasequally business-like. 

So the would-be check-weighman came out and sat on the steps to wait. The tipple was a fairly public place, and he judged he was as safe thereas anywhere. Some of the men grinned and winked at him as they wentabout their work; several found a chance to whisper words ofencouragement. And all morning he sat, like a protestant at thepalace-gates of a mandarin in China, It was tedious work, but hebelieved that he would be able to stand it longer than the company. 

SECTION 12. 

In the middle of the morning a man came up to him--"Bud" Adams, ayounger brother of the "J. P. , " and Jeff Cotton's assistant. Bud wasstocky, red-faced, and reputed to be handy with his fists. So Hal roseup warily when he saw him. 

"Hey, you, " said Bud. "There's a telegram at the office for you. "

"For me?"

"Your name's Joe Smith, ain't it?"

"Yes. "

"Well, that's what it says. "

Hal considered for a moment. There was no one to be telegraphing JoeSmith. It was only a ruse to get him away. 

"What's in the telegram?" he asked. 

"How do I know?" said Bud. 

"Where is it from?"

"I dunno that. "

"Well, " said Hal, "you might bring it to me here. "

The other's eyes flew open. This was not a revolt, it was a revolution!"Who the hell's messenger boy do you think I am?" he demanded. 

"Don't the company deliver telegrams?" countered Hal, politely. And Budstood struggling with his human impulses, while Hal watched himcautiously. But apparently those who had sent the messenger had givenhim precise instructions; for he controlled his wrath, and turned andstrode away. 

Hal continued his vigil. He had his lunch with him; and was prepared toeat alone--understanding the risk that a man would be running who showedsympathy with him. He was surprised, therefore, when Johannson, thegiant Swede, came and sat down by his side. There also came a youngMexican labourer, and a Greek miner. The revolution was spreading!

Hal felt sure the company would not let this go on. And sure enough, towards the middle of the afternoon, the tipple-boss came out andbeckoned to him. "Come here, you!" And Hal went in. 

The "weigh-room" was a fairly open place; but at one side was a doorinto an office. "This way, " said the man. 

But Hal stopped where he was. 

"This is where the check-weighman belongs, Mr. Peters. "

"But I want to talk to you. "

"I can hear you, sir. " Hal was in sight of the men, and he knew that washis only protection. 

The tipple-boss went back into the office; and a minute later Hal sawwhat had been intended. The door opened and Alec Stone came out. 

He stood for a moment looking at his political henchman. Then he cameup. "Kid, " he said, in a low voice, "you're overdoing this. I didn'tintend you to go so far. "

"This is not what you intended, Mr. Stone, " answered Hal. 

The pit-boss came closer yet. "What you looking for, kid? What youexpect to get out of this?"

Hal's gaze was unwavering. "Experience, " he replied. 

"You're feeling smart, sonny. But you'd better stop and realise whatyou're up against. You ain't going to get away with it, you know; getthat through your head--you ain't going to get away with it. You'dbetter come in and have a talk with me. "

There was a silence. 

"Don't you know how it'll be, Smith? These little fires start up--but weput 'em out. We know how to do it, we've got the machinery. It'll all beforgotten in a week or two, and then where'll you be at? Can't you see?"

As Hal still made no reply, the other's voice dropped lower. "Iunderstand your position. Just give me a nod, and it'll be all right. You tell the men that you've watched the weights, and that they're allright. They'll be satisfied, and you and me can fix it up later. "

"Mr. Stone, " said Hal, with intense gravity, "am I correct in theimpression that you are offering me a bribe?"

In a flash, the man's self-control vanished. He thrust his huge fistwithin an inch of Hal's nose, and uttered a foul oath. But Hal did notremove his nose from the danger-zone, and over the fist a pair of angrybrown eyes gazed at the pit-boss. "Mr. Stone, you had better realisethis situation. I am in dead earnest about this matter, and I don'tthink it will be safe for you to offer me violence. "

For a moment or two the man continued to glare at Hal; but it appearedthat he, like Bud Adams, had been given instructions. He turned abruptlyand strode back into the office. 

Hal stood for a bit, until he had made sure of his composure. Afterwhich he strolled over towards the scales. A difficulty had occurred tohim for the first time--that he did not know anything about the workingof coal-scales. 

But he was given no time to learn. The tipple-boss reappeared. "Get outof here, fellow!" said he. 

"But you invited me in, " remarked Hal, mildly. 

"Well, now I invite you out again. "

And so the protestant resumed his vigil at the mandarin's palace-gates. 

SECTION 13. 

When the quitting-whistle blew, Mike Sikoria came quickly to join Haland hear what had happened. Mike was exultant, for several new men hadcome up to him and offered to join the check-weighman movement. The oldfellow was not sure whether this was owing to his own eloquence as apropagandist, or to the fine young American buddy he had; but in eithercase he was equally proud. He gave Hal a note which had been slippedinto his hand, and which Hal recognised as coming from Tom Olson. Theorganiser reported that every one in the camp was talkingcheck-weighman, and so from a propaganda standpoint they could counttheir move a success, no matter what the bosses might do. He added thatHal should have a number of men stay with him that night, so as to havewitnesses if the company tried to "pull off anything. " "And be carefulof the new men, " he added; "one or two of them are sure to be spies. "

Hal and Mike discussed their programme for the second night. Neither ofthem were keen for sleeping out again--the old Slovak because of hisbones, and Hal because he saw there were now several spies followingthem about. At Reminitsky's, he spoke to some of those who had offeredtheir support, and asked them if they would be willing to spend thenight with him in Edstrom's cabin. Not one shrank from this test ofsincerity; they all got their blankets, and repaired to the place, whereHal lighted the lamp and held an impromptu check-weighman meeting--andincidentally entertained himself with a spy-hunt!

One of the new-comers was a Pole named Wojecicowski; this, on top ofZamierowski, caused Hal to give up all effort to call the Poles by theirnames. "Woji" was an earnest little man, with a pathetic, tired face. Heexplained his presence by the statement that he was sick of beingrobbed; he would pay his share for a check-weighman, and if they firedhim, all right, he would move on, and to hell with them. After whichdeclaration he rolled up in a blanket and went to snoring on the floorof the cabin. That did not seem to be exactly the conduct of a spy. 

Another was an Italian, named Farenzena; a dark-browed andsinister-looking fellow, who might have served as a villain in anymelodrama. He sat against the wall and talked in guttural tones, and Halregarded him with deep suspicion. It was not easy to understand hisEnglish, but finally Hal managed to make out the story he wastelling--that he was in love with a "fanciulla, " and that the"fanciulla" was playing with him. He had about made up his mind that shewas a coquette, and not worth bothering with, so he did not care anycurses if they sent him down the canyon. "Don't fight for fanciulla, fight for check-weighman!" he concluded, with a growl. 

Another volunteer was a Greek labourer, a talkative young chap who hadsat with Hal at lunch-time, and had given his name as Apostolikas. Heentered into fluent conversation with Hal, explaining how muchinterested he was in the check-weighman plan; he wanted to know justwhat they were going to do, what chance of success they thought theyhad, who had started the movement and who was in it. Hal's replies tookthe form of little sermons on working-class solidarity. Each time theman would start to "pump" him, Hal would explain the importance of thepresent issue to the miners, how they must stand by one another and makesacrifices for the good of all. After he had talked abstract theoriesfor half an hour, Apostolikas gave up and moved on to Mike Sikoria, who, having been given a wink by Hal, talked about "scabs, " and the dreadfulthings that honest workingmen would do to them. When finally the Greekgrew tired again, and lay down on the floor, Hal moved over to Old Mikeand whispered that the first name of Apostolikas must be Judas!

SECTION 14. 

Old Mike went to sleep quickly; but Hal had not worked for several days, and had exciting thoughts to keep him awake. He had been lying quiet fora couple of hours, when he became aware that some one was moving in theroom. There was a lamp burning dimly, and through half-closed eyes hemade out one of the men lifting himself to a sitting position. At firsthe could not be sure which one it was, but finally he recognised theGreek. 

Hal lay motionless, and after a minute or so he stole another look andsaw the man crouching and listening, his hands still on the floor. Through half opened eye-lids Hal continued to steal glimpses, while theother rose and tip-toed towards him, stepping carefully over thesleeping forms. 

Hal did his best to simulate the breathing of sleep: no easy matter, with the man stooping over him, and a knife-thrust as one of thepossibilities of the situation. He took the chance, however; and afterwhat seemed an age, he felt the man's fingers lightly touch his side. They moved down to his coat-pocket. 

"Going to search me!" thought Hal; and waited, expecting the hand totravel to other pockets. But after what seemed an interminable period, he realised that Apostolikas had risen again, and was stepping back tohis place. In a minute more he had lain down, and all was still in thecabin. 

Hal's hand moved to the pocket, and his fingers slid inside. Theytouched something, which he recognised instantly as a roll of bills. 

"I see!" thought he. "A frame-up!" And he laughed to himself, his mindgoing back to early boyhood--to a dilapidated trunk in the attic of hishome, containing story-books that his father had owned. He could seethem now, with their worn brown covers and crude pictures: "The Luck andPluck Series, " by Horatio Alger; "Live or Die, " "Rough and Ready, " etc. How he had thrilled over the story of the country-boy who comes to thecity, and meets the villain who robs his employer's cash-drawer anddrops the key of it into the hero's pocket! Evidently some one connectedwith the General Fuel Company had read Horatio Alger!

Hal realised that he could not be too quick about getting those billsout of his pocket. He thought of returning them to "Judas, " but decidedthat he would save them for Edstrom, who was likely to need money beforelong. He gave the Greek half an hour to go to sleep, then with hispocket-knife he gently picked out a hole in the cinders of the floor andburied the money as best he could. After which he wormed his way toanother place, and lay thinking. 

SECTION 15. 

Would they wait until morning, or would they come soon? He was inclinedto the latter guess, so he was only slightly startled when, an hour ortwo later, he heard the knob of the cabin-door turned. A moment latercame a crash and the door was burst open, with the shoulder of a heavyman behind it. 

The room was in confusion in a second. Men sprang to their feet, cryingout; others sat up bewildered, still half asleep. The room was brightfrom an electric torch in the hands of one of the invaders. "There's thefellow!" cried a voice, which Hal instantly recognised as belonging toJeff Cotton, the camp-marshal. "Stick 'em up, there! You, Joe Smith!"Hal did not wait to see the glint of the marshal's revolver. 

There followed a silence. As this drama was being staged for the benefitof the other men, it was necessary to give them time to get thoroughlyawake, and to get their eyes used to the light. Meantime Hal stood, hishands in the air. Behind the torch he could make out the faces of themarshal, Bud Adams, Alec Stone, Jake Predovich, and two or three others. 

"Now, men, " said Cotton, at last, "you are some of the fellows that wanta check-weighman. And this is the man you chose. Is that right?"

There was no answer. 

"I'm going to show you the kind of fellow he is. He came to Mr. Stonehere and offered to sell you out. "

"It's a lie, men, " said Hal, quietly. 

"He took some money from Mr. Stone to sell you out!" insisted themarshal. 

"It's a lie, " said Hal, again. 

"He's got that money now!" cried the other. 

And Hal cried, in turn, "They are trying to frame something on me, boys!Don't let them fool you!"

"Shut up, " commanded the marshal; then, to the men, "I'll show you. Ithink he's got that money on him now. Jake, search him. "

The store-clerk advanced. 

"Watch out, boys!" exclaimed Hal. "They will put something in mypockets. " And then to Old Mike, who had started angrily forward, "It'sall right, Mike! Let them alone!"

"Jake, take off your coat, " ordered Cotton. "Roll up your sleeves. Showyour hands. "

It was for all the world like the performance of a prestidigitator. Thelittle Jew took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves above his elbows. He exhibited his hands to the audience, turning them this way and that;then, keeping them out in front of him, he came slowly towards Hal, likea hypnotist about to put him to sleep. 

"Watch him!" said Cotton. "He's got that money on him, I know. "

"Look sharp!" cried Hal. "If it isn't there, they'll put it there. "

"Keep your hands up, young fellow, " commanded the marshal. "Keep backfrom him there!" This last to Mike Sikoria and the other spectators, whowere pressing nearer, peering over one another's shoulders. 

It was all very serious at the time, but afterwards, when Hal recalledthe scene, he laughed over the grotesque figure of Predovich searchinghis pockets while keeping as far away from him as possible, so thatevery one might know that the money had actually come out of Hal'spocket. The searcher put his hands first in the inside pockets, then inthe pockets of Hal's shirt. Time was needed to build up this climax!

"Turn around, " commanded Cotton; and Hal turned, and the Jew wentthrough his trouser-pockets. He took out in turn Hal's watch, his comband mirror, his handkerchief; after examining them and holding them up, he dropped them onto the floor. There was a breathless hush when he cameto Hal's purse, and proceeded to open it. Thanks to the greed of thecompany, there was nothing in the purse but some small change. Predovichclosed it and dropped it to the floor. 

"Wait now! He's not through!" cried the master of ceremonies. "He's gotthat money somewhere, boys! Did you look in his side-pockets, Jake?"

"Not yet, " said Jake. 

"Look sharp!" cried the marshal; and every one craned forward eagerly, while Predovich stooped down on one knee, and put his hand into one coatpocket and then into the other. 

He took his hand out again, and the look of dismay upon his face was soobvious that Hal could hardly keep from laughing. "It ain't dere!" hedeclared. 

"What?" cried Cotton, and they stared at each other. "By God, he's gotrid of it!"

"There's no money on me, boys!" proclaimed Hal. "It's a job they aretrying to put over on us. "

"He's hid it!" shouted the marshal. "Find it, Jake!"

Then Predovich began to search again, swiftly, and with lesscircumstance. He was not thinking so much about the spectators now, asabout all that good money gone for nothing! He made Hal take off hiscoat, and ripped open the lining; he unbuttoned the trousers and feltinside; he thrust his fingers down inside Hal's shoes. 

But there was no money, and the searchers were at a standstill. "He tooktwenty-five dollars from Mr. Stone to sell you out!" declared themarshal. "He's managed to get rid of it somehow. "

"Boys, " cried Hal, "they sent a spy in here, and told him to put moneyon me. " He was looking at Apostolikas as he spoke; he saw the man startand shrink back. 

"That's him! He's a scab!" cried Old Mike. "He's got the money on him, Ibet!" And he made a move towards the Greek. 

So the camp-marshal realised suddenly that it was time to ring down thecurtain on this drama. "That's enough of this foolishness, " he declared. "Bring that fellow along here!" And in a flash a couple of the party hadseized Hal's wrists, and a third had grabbed him by the collar of hisshirt. Before the miners had time to realise what was happening, theyhad rushed their prisoner out of the cabin. 

The quarter of an hour which followed was an uncomfortable one for thewould-be check-weighman. Outside, in the darkness, the camp-marshal wasfree to give vent to his rage, and so was Alec Stone. They poured outcurses upon him, and kicked him and cuffed him as they went along. Oneof the men who held his wrists twisted his arm, until he cried out withpain; then they cursed him harder, and bade him hold his mouth. Down thedark and silent street they went swiftly, and into the camp-marshal'soffice, and upstairs to the room which served as the North Valley jail. Hal was glad enough when they left him here, slamming the iron doorbehind them. 

SECTION 16. 

It had been a crude and stupid plot, yet Hal realised that it wasadapted to the intelligence of the men for whom it was intended. But forthe accident that he had stayed awake, they would have found the moneyon him, and next morning the whole camp would have heard that he hadsold out. Of course his immediate friends, the members of the committee, would not have believed it; but the mass of the workers would havebelieved it, and so the purpose of Tom Olson's visit to North Valleywould have been balked. Throughout the experiences which were to come tohim, Hal retained his vivid impression of that adventure; it served tohim as a symbol of many things. Just as the bosses had tried to bedevilhim, to destroy his influence with his followers, so later on he sawthem trying to bedevil the labour-movement, to confuse the intelligenceof the whole country. 

Now Hal was in jail. He went to the window and tried the bars--but foundthat they had been made for such trials. Then he groped his way about inthe darkness, examining his prison, which proved to be a steel cagebuilt inside the walls of an ordinary room. In one corner was a bench, and in another corner another bench, somewhat broader, with a mattressupon it. Hal had read a little about jails--enough to cause him to avoidthis mattress. He sat upon the bare bench, and began to think. 

It is a fact that there is a peculiar psychology incidental to being injail; just as there is a peculiar psychology incidental to strainingyour back and breaking your hands loading coal-cars in a five foot vein;and another, and quite different psychology, produced by living at easeoff the labours of coal-miners. In a jail, you have first of all thesense of being an animal; the animal side of your being is emphasised, the animal passions of hatred and fear are called into prominence, andif you are to escape being dominated by them, it can only be by intenseand concentrated effort of the mind. So, if you are a thinking man, youdo a great deal of thinking in a jail; the days are long, and the nightsstill longer--you have time for all the thoughts you can have. 

The bench was hard, and seemed to grow harder. There was no position inwhich it could be made to grow soft. Hal got up and paced about, then helay down for a while, then got up and walked again; and all the while hethought, and all the while the jail-psychology was being impressed uponhis mind. 

First, he thought about his immediate problem. What were they going todo to him? The obvious thing would be to put him out of camp, and so bedone with him; but would they rest content with that, in theirirritation at the trick he had played? Hal had heard vaguely of thatnative American institution, the "third degree, " but had never hadoccasion to think of it as a possibility in his own life. What adifference it made, to think of it in that way!

Hal had told Tom Olson that he would not pledge himself to organise aunion, but that he would pledge himself to get a check-weighman; andOlson had laughed, and seemed quite content--apparently assuming that itwould come to the same thing. And now, it rather seemed that Olson hadknown what he was talking about. For Hal found his thoughts no longertroubled with fears of labour union domination and walking delegatetyranny; on the contrary, he became suddenly willing for the people ofNorth Valley to have a union, and to be as tyrannical as they knew how!And in this change, though Hal had no idea of it, he was repeating anexperience common among reformers; many of whom begin as mild andbenevolent advocates of some obvious bit of justice, and under theoperation of the jail-psychology are made into blazing and determinedrevolutionists. "Eternal spirit of the chainless mind, " says Byron. "Greatest in dungeons Liberty thou art!"

The poet goes on to add that "When thy sons to fetters are confined--"then "Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. " And just as it was inChillon, so it seemed to be in North Valley. Dawn came, and Hal stood atthe window of his cell, and heard the whistle blow and saw the workersgoing to their tasks, the toil-bent, pallid faced creatures of theunderworld, like a file of baboons in the half-light. He waved his handto them, and they stopped and stared, and then waved back; he realisedthat every one of those men must be thinking about his imprisonment, andthe reason for it--and so the jail-psychology was being communicated tothem. If any of them cherished distrust of unions, or doubt of the needof organisation in North Valley--that distrust and that doubt were beingdissipated!

--There was only one thing discouraging about the matter, as Hal thoughtit over. Why should the bosses have left him here in plain sight, whenthey might so easily have put him into an automobile, and whisked himdown to Pedro before daylight? Was it a sign of the contempt they feltfor their slaves? Did they count upon the sight of the prisoner in thewindow to produce fear instead of resentment? And might it not be thatthey understood their workers better than the would-be check-weighman?He recalled Mary Burke's pessimism about them, and anxiety gnawed at hissoul; and--such is the operation of the jail-psychology--he foughtagainst this anxiety. He hated the company for its cynicism, he clenchedhis hands and set his teeth, desiring to teach the bosses a lesson, toprove to them that their workers were not slaves, but men!

SECTION 17. 

Toward the middle of the morning, Hal heard footsteps in the corridoroutside, and a man whom he did not know opened the barred door and setdown a pitcher of water and a tin plate with a hunk of bread on it. Whenhe started to leave, Hal spoke: "Just a minute, please. "

The other frowned at him. 

"Can you give me any idea how long I am to stay in here?"

"I cannot, " said the man. 

"If I'm to be locked up, " said Hal, "I've certainly a right to know whatis the charge against me. "

"Go to blazes!" said the other, and slammed the door and went down thecorridor. 

Hal went to the window again, and passed the time watching the peoplewho went by. Groups of ragged children gathered, looking up at him, grinning and making signs--until some one appeared below and orderedthem away. 

As time passed, Hal became hungry. The taste of bread, eaten alone, becomes speedily monotonous, and the taste of water does not relieve it;nevertheless, Hal munched the bread, and drank the water, and wished formore. 

The day dragged by; and late in the afternoon the keeper came again, with another hunk of bread and another pitcher of water. "Listen amoment, " said Hal, as the man was turning away. 

"I got nothin' to say to you, " said the other. 

"I have something to say to you, " pleaded Hal. "I have read in a book--Iforget where, but it was written by some doctor--that white bread doesnot contain the elements necessary to the sustaining of the human body. "

"Go on!" growled the jailer. "What yer givin' us?"

"I mean, " explained Hal, "a diet of bread and water is not what I'dchoose to live on. "

"What would yer choose?"

The tone suggested that the question was a rhetorical one; but Hal tookit in good faith. "If I could have some beefsteak and mashed potatoes--"

The door of the cell closed with a slam whose echoes drowned out therest of that imaginary menu. And so once more Hal sat on the hard bench, and munched his hunk of bread, and thought jail-thoughts. 

When the quitting-whistle blew, he stood at the window, and saw thegroups of his friends once again, and got their covert signals ofencouragement. Then darkness fell, and another long vigil began. 

It was late; Hal had no means of telling how late, save that all thelights in the camps were out. He made up his mind that he was in for thenight, and had settled himself on the floor with his arm for a pillow, and had dozed off to sleep, when suddenly there came a scraping soundagainst the bars of his window. He sat up with a start, and heardanother sound, unmistakably the rustling of paper. He sprang to thewindow, where by the faint light of the stars he could make outsomething dangling. He caught at it; it seemed to be an ordinarynote-book, such as stenographers use, tied on the end of a pole. 

Hal looked out, but could see no one. He caught hold of the pole andjerked it, as a signal; and then he heard a whisper which he recognisedinstantly as Rovetta's. "Hello! Listen. Write your name hundred times inbook. I come back. Understand?"

The command was a sufficiently puzzling one, but Hal realised that thiswas no time for explanations. He answered, "Yes, " and broke the stringand took the notebook. There was a pencil attached, with a piece ofcloth wrapped round the point to protect it. 

The pole was withdrawn, and Hal sat on the bench, and began to write, three or four times on a page, "Joe Smith--Joe Smith--Joe Smith. " It isnot hard to write "Joe Smith, " even in darkness, and so, while his handmoved, Hal's mind was busy with this mystery. It was fairly to beassumed that his committee did not want his autograph to distribute fora souvenir; they must want it for some vital purpose, to meet some newmove of the bosses. The answer to this riddle was not slow in coming:having failed in their effort to find money on him, the bosses hadframed up a letter, which they were exhibiting as having been written bythe would-be check-weigh-man. His friends wanted his signature todisprove the authenticity of the letter. 

Hal wrote a free and rapid hand, with a generous flourish; he felt sureit would be different from Alec Stone's idea of a working-boy's scrawl. His pencil flew on and on--"Joe Smith--Joe Smith--" page after page, until he was sure that he had written a signature for every miner in thecamp, and was beginning on the buddies. Then, hearing a whistle outside, he stopped and sprang to the window. 

"Throw it!" whispered a voice; and Hal threw it. He saw a form vanish upthe street, after which all was quiet again. He listened for a while, tosee if he had roused his jailer; then he lay down on the bench--andthought more jail-thoughts!

SECTION 18. 

Morning came, and the mine-whistle blew, and Hal stood at the windowagain. This time he noticed that some of the miners on their way to workhad little strips of paper in their hands, which strips they wavedconspicuously for him to see. Old Mike Sikoria came along, having awhole bunch of strips in his hands, which he was distributing to all whowould take them. Doubtless he had been warned to proceed secretly, butthe excitement of the occasion had been too much for him; he caperedabout like a young spring lamb, and waved the strips at Hal in plainsight of all the world. 

Such indiscreet behaviour met the return it invited. As Hal watched, hesaw a stocky figure come striding round the corner, confronting thestartled old Slovak. It was Bud Adams, the mine-guard, and his hardfists were clenched, and his whole body gathered for a blow. Mike sawhim, and was as if suddenly struck with paralysis; his toil-bentshoulders sunk together, and his hands fell to his sides--his fingersopening, and his precious strips of paper fluttering to the ground. Mikestared at Bud like a fascinated rabbit, making no move to protecthimself. 

Hal clutched the bars, with an impulse to leap to his friend's defence. But the expected blow did not fall; the mine-guard contented himselfwith glaring ferociously, and giving an order to the old man. Mikestooped and picked up the papers--the process taking him some time, ashe was unable or unwilling to take his eyes off the mine-guard's. Whenhe got them all in his hands, there came another order, and he gave themup to Bud. After which he fell back a step, and the other followed, hisfists still clenched, and a blow seeming about to leap from him everymoment. Mike receded another step, and then another--so the two of thembacked out of sight around the corner. Men who had been witnesses ofthis little drama turned and slunk off, and Hal was given no clue as toits outcome. 

A couple of hours afterwards, Hal's jailer came up, this time withoutany bread and water. He opened the door and commanded the prisoner to"come along. " Hal went downstairs, and entered Jeff Cotton's office. 

The camp-marshal sat at his desk with a cigar between his teeth. He waswriting, and he went on writing until the jailer had gone out and closedthe door. Then he turned his revolving chair and crossed his legs, leaning back and looking at the young miner in his dirty blue overalls, his hair tousled and his face pale from his period of confinement. Thecamp-marshal's aristocratic face wore a smile. "Well, young fellow, "said he, "you've been having a lot of fun in this camp. "

"Pretty fair, thank you, " answered Hal. 

"Beat us out all along the line, hey?" Then, after a pause, "Now, tellme, what do you think you're going to get out of it?"

"That's what Alec Stone asked me, " replied Hal. "I don't think it woulddo much good to explain. I doubt if you believe in altruism any morethan Stone does. "

The camp-marshal took his cigar from his mouth, and flicked off theashes. His face became serious, and there was a silence, while hestudied Hal. "You a union organiser?" he asked, at last. 

"No, " said Hal. 

"You're an educated man; you're no labourer, that I know. Who's payingyou?"

"There you are! You don't believe in altruism. "

The other blew a ring of smoke across the room. "Just want to put thecompany in the hole, hey? Some kind of agitator?"

"I am a miner who wants to be a check-weighman. "

"Socialist?"

"That depends upon developments here. "

"Well, " said the marshal, "you're an intelligent chap, that I can see. So I'll lay my hand on the table and you can study it. You're not goingto serve as check-weighman in North Valley, nor any other place that the'G. F. C. ' has anything to do with. Nor are you going to have thesatisfaction of putting the company in a hole. We're not even going tobeat you up and make a martyr of you. I was tempted to do that the othernight, but I changed my mind. "

"You might change the bruises on my arm, " suggested Hal, in a pleasantvoice. 

"We're going to offer you the choice of two things, " continued themarshal, without heeding this mild sarcasm. "Either you will sign apaper admitting that you took the twenty-five dollars from Alec Stone, in which case we will fire you and call it square; or else we will provethat you took it, in which case we will send you to the pen for five orten years. Do you get that?"

Now when Hal had applied for the job of check-weighman, he had beenexpecting to be thrown out of the camp, and had intended to go, countinghis education complete. But here, as he sat and gazed into the marshal'smenacing eyes, he decided suddenly that he did not want to leave NorthValley. He wanted to stay and take the measure of this gigantic"burglar, " the General Fuel Company. 

"That's a serious threat, Mr. Cotton, " he remarked. "Do you often dothings like that?"

"We do them when we have to, " was the reply. 

"Well, it's a novel proposition. Tell me more about it. What will thecharge be?"

"I'm not sure about that--we'll put it up to our lawyers. Maybe they'llcall it conspiracy, maybe blackmail. They'll make it whatever carries along enough sentence. "

"And before I enter my plea, would you mind letting me see the letterI'm supposed to have written. "

"Oh, you've heard about the letter, have you?" said the camp-marshal, lifting his eyebrows in mild surprise. He took from his desk a sheet ofpaper and handed it to Hal, who read:

"Dere mister Stone, You don't need worry about the check-wayman. Pay metwenty five dollars, and I will fix it right. Yours try, Joe Smith. "

Having taken in the words of the letter, Hal examined the paper, andperceived that his enemies had taken the trouble, not merely to forge aletter in his name, but to have it photographed, to have a cut made ofthe photograph, and to have it printed. Beyond doubt they haddistributed it broadcast in the camp. And all this in a few hours! Itwas as Olson had said--a regular system to keep the men bedevilled. 

SECTION 19. 

Hal took a minute or so to ponder the situation. "Mr. Cotton, " he said, at last. "I know how to spell better than that. Also my handwriting is abit more fluent. "

There was a trace of a smile about the marshal's cruel lips. "I know, "he replied. "I've not failed to compare them. "

"You have a good secret-service department!" said Hal. 

"Before you get through, young fellow, you'll discover that our legaldepartment is equally efficient. "

"Well, " said Hal, "they'll need to be; for I don't see how you can getround the fact that I'm a check-weighman, chosen according to the law, and with a group of the men behind me. "

"If that's what you're counting on, " retorted Cotton, "you may as wellforget it. You've got no group any more. "

"Oh! You've got rid of them?"

"We've got rid of the ring-leaders. "

"Of whom?"

"That old billy-goat, Sikoria, for one. "

"You've shipped him?"

"We have. "

"I saw the beginning of that. Where have you sent him?"

"That, " smiled the marshal, "is a job for _your_ secret-servicedepartment!"

"And who else?"

"John Edstrom has gone down to bury his wife. It's not the first timethat dough-faced old preacher has made trouble for us, but it'll be thelast. You'll find him in Pedro--probably in the poor-house. "

"No, " responded Hal, quickly--and there came just a touch of elation inhis voice--"he won't have to go to the poor-house at once. You see, I'vejust sent twenty-five dollars to him. "

The camp-marshal frowned. "Really!" Then, after a pause, "You _did_ havethat money on you! I thought that lousy Greek had got away with it!"

"No. Your knave was honest. But so was I. I knew Edstrom had beengetting short weight for years, so he was the one person with any rightto the money. "

This story was untrue, of course; the money was still buried inEdstrom's cabin. But Hal meant for the old miner to have it in the end, and meantime he wanted to throw Cotton off the track. 

"A clever trick, young man!" said the marshal. "But you'll repent itbefore you're through. It only makes me more determined to put you whereyou can't do us any harm. "

"You mean in the pen? You understand, of course, it will mean a jurytrial. You can get a jury to do what you want?"

"They tell me you've been taking an interest in politics in PedroCounty. Haven't you looked into our jury-system?"

"No, I haven't got that far. "

The marshal began blowing rings of smoke again. 

"Well, there are some three hundred men on our jury-list, and we knowthem all. You'll find yourself facing a box with Jake Predovich asforeman, three company-clerks, two of Alf Raymond's saloon-keepers, aranchman with a mortgage held by the company-bank, and five Mexicans whohave no idea what it's all about, but would stick a knife into your backfor a drink of whiskey. The District Attorney is a politician whofavours the miners in his speeches, and favours us in his acts; whileJudge Denton, of the district court, is the law partner of Vagleman, ourchief-counsel. Do you get all that?"

"Yes, " said Hal. "I've heard of the 'Empire of Raymond'; I'm interestedto see the machinery. You're quite open about it!"

"Well, " replied the marshal, "I want you to know what you're up against. We didn't start this fight, and we're perfectly willing to end itwithout trouble. All we ask is that you make amends for the mischiefyou've done us. "

"By 'making amends, ' you mean I'm to disgrace myself--to tell the menI'm a traitor?"

"Precisely, " said the marshal. 

"I think I'll have a seat while I consider the matter, " said Hal; and hetook a chair, and stretched out his legs, and made himself elaboratelycomfortable. "That bench upstairs is frightfully hard, " said he, andsmiled mockingly upon the camp-marshal. 

SECTION 20. 

When this conversation was continued, it was upon a new and unexpectedline. "Cotton, " remarked the prisoner, "I perceive that you are a man ofeducation. It occurs to me that once upon a time you must have been whatthe world calls a gentleman. "

The blood started into the camp-marshal's face. "You go to hell!" saidhe. 

"I did not intend to ask questions, " continued Hal. "I can wellunderstand that you mightn't care to answer them. My point is that, being an ex-gentleman, you may appreciate certain aspects of this casewhich would be beyond the understanding of a nigger-driver like Stone, or an efficiency expert like Cartwright. One gentleman can recogniseanother, even in a miner's costume. Isn't that so?"

Hal paused for an answer, and the marshal gave him a wary look. "Isuppose so, " he said. 

"Well, to begin with, one gentleman does not smoke without invitinganother to join him. "

The man gave another look. Hal thought he was going to consign him tohades once more; but instead he took a cigar from his vest-pocket andheld it out. 

"No, thank you, " said Hal, quietly. "I do not smoke. But I like to beinvited. "

There was a pause, while the two men measured each other. 

"Now, Cotton, " began the prisoner, "you pictured the scene at my trial. Let me carry on the story for you. You have your case all framed up, your hand-picked jury in the box, and your hand-picked judge on thebench, your hand-picked prosecuting-attorney putting through the job;you are ready to send your victim to prison, for an example to the restof your employés. But suppose that, at the climax of the proceedings, you should make the discovery that your victim is a person who cannot besent to prison?"

"Cannot be sent to prison?" repeated the other. His tone was thoughtful. "You'll have to explain. "

"Surely not to a man of your intelligence! Don't you know, Cotton, thereare people who cannot be sent to prison?"

The camp-marshal smoked his cigar for a bit. "There are some in thiscounty, " said he. "But I thought I knew them all. "

"Well, " said Hal, "has it never occurred to you that there might be somein this _state_?"

There followed a long silence. The two men were gazing into each other'seyes; and the more they gazed, the more plainly Hal read uncertainty inthe face of the marshal. 

"Think how embarrassing it would be!" he continued. "You have your dramaall staged--as you did the night before last--only on a larger stage, before a more important audience; and at the _dénouement_ you find that, instead of vindicating yourself before the workers in North Valley, youhave convicted yourself before the public of the state. You have shownthe whole community that you are law-breakers; worse than that--you haveshown that you are jack-asses!"

This time the camp-marshal gazed so long that his cigar went out. Andmeantime Hal was lounging in his chair, smiling at him strangely. It wasas if a transformation was taking place before the marshal's eyes; theminer's "jumpers" fell away from Hal's figure, and there was a suit ofevening-clothes in their place!

"Who the devil are you?" cried the man. 

"Well now!" laughed Hal. "You boast of the efficiency of your secretservice department! Put them at work upon this problem. A young man, agetwenty-one, height five feet ten inches, weight one hundred andfifty-two pounds, eyes brown, hair chestnut and rather wavy, mannergenial, a favourite with the ladies--at least that's what the societynotes say--missing since early in June, supposed to be huntingmountain-goats in Mexico. As you know, Cotton, there's only one city inthe state that has any 'society, ' and in that city there are onlytwenty-five or thirty families that count. For a secret servicedepartment like that of the 'G. F. C. ', that is really too easy. "

Again there was a silence, until Hal broke it. "Your distress is atribute to your insight. The company is lucky in the fact that one ofits camp-marshals happens to be an ex-gentleman. "

Again the other flushed. "Well, by God!" he said, half to himself; andthen, making a last effort to hold his bluff--"You're kidding me!"

"'Kidding, ' as you call it, is one of the favourite occupations ofsociety, Cotton. A good part of our intercourse consists of it--at leastamong the younger set. "

Suddenly the marshal rose. "Say, " he demanded, "would you mind goingback upstairs for a few minutes?"

Hal could not restrain his laughter at this. "I should mind it verymuch, " he said. "I have been on a bread and water diet for thirty-sixhours, and I should like very much to get out and have a breath of freshair. "

"But, " said the other, lamely, "I've got to send you up there. "

"That's another matter, " replied Hal. "If you send me, I'll go, but it'syour look-out. You've kept me here without legal authority, with nocharge against me, and without giving me an opportunity to see counsel. Unless I'm very much mistaken, you are liable criminally for that, andthe company is liable civilly. That is your own affair, of course. Ionly want to make clear my position--when you ask me would I _mind_stepping upstairs, I, answer that I would mind very much indeed. "

The camp-marshal stood for a bit, chewing nervously on his extinctcigar. Then he went to the door. "Hey, Gus!" he called. Hal's jailerappeared, and Cotton whispered to him, and he went away again. "I'mtelling him to get you some food, and you can sit and eat it here. Willthat suit you better?"

"It depends, " said Hal, making the most of the situation. "Are youinviting me as your prisoner, or as your guest?"

"Oh, come off!" said the other. 

"But I have to know my legal status. It will be of importance to mylawyers. "

"Be my guest, " said the camp-marshal. 

"But when a guest has eaten, he is free to go out, if he wishes to!"

"I will let you know about that before you get through. "

"Well, be quick. I'm a rapid eater. "

"You'll promise you won't go away before that?"

"If I do, " was Hal's laughing reply, "it will be only to my place ofbusiness. You can look for me at the tipple, Cotton!"

SECTION 21. 

The marshal went out, and a few moments later the jailer came back, witha meal which presented a surprising contrast to the ones he hadpreviously served. There was a tray containing cold ham, a couple ofsoft boiled eggs, some potato salad, and a cup of coffee with rolls andbutter. 

"Well, well!" said Hal, condescendingly. "That's even nicer thanbeefsteak and mashed potatoes!" He sat and watched, not offering tohelp, while the other made room for the tray on the table in front ofhim. Then the man stalked out, and Hal began to eat. 

Before he had finished, the camp-marshal returned. He seated himself inhis revolving chair, and appeared to be meditative. Between bites, Halwould look up and smile at him. 

"Cotton, " said he, "you know there is no more certain test of breedingthan table-manners. You will observe that I have not tucked my napkin inmy neck, as Alec Stone would have done. "

"I'm getting you, " replied the marshal. 

Hal set his knife and fork side by side on his plate. "Your man hasoverlooked the finger-bowl, " he remarked. "However, don't bother. Youmight ring for him now, and let him take the tray. "

The camp-marshal used his voice for a bell, and the jailer came. "Unfortunately, " said Hal, "when your people were searching me, nightbefore last, they dropped my purse, so I have no tip for the waiter. "

The "waiter" glared at Hal as if he would like to bite him; but thecamp-marshal grinned. "Clear out, Gus, and shut the door, " said he. 

Then Hal stretched his legs and made himself comfortable again. "I mustsay I like being your guest better than being your prisoner!"

There was a pause. 

"I've been talking it over with Mr. Cartwright, " began the marshal. "I've got no way of telling how much of this is bluff that you've beengiving me, but it's evident enough that you're no miner. You may be somenewfangled kind of agitator, but I'm damned if I ever saw an agitatorthat had tea-party manners. I suppose you've been brought up to money;but if that's so, why you want to do this kind of thing is more than Ican imagine. "

"Tell me, Cotton, " said Hal, "did you never hear of _ennui_?"

"Yes, " replied the other, "but aren't you rather young to be troubledwith that complaint?"

"Suppose I've seen others suffering from it, and wanted to try adifferent way of living from theirs?"

"If you're what you say, you ought to be still in college. "

"I go back for my senior year this fall. "

"What college?"

"You doubt me still, I see!" said Hal, and smiled. Then, unexpectedly, with a spirit which only moonlit campuses and privilege could beget, hechanted:

 "Old King Coal was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He made him a college, all full of knowledge-- Hurrah for you and me!"

"What college is that?" asked the marshal. And Hal sang again:

 "Oh, Liza-Ann, come out with me, The moon is a-shinin' in the monkey-puzzle tree! Oh, Liza-Ann, I have began To sing you the song of Harrigan!"

"Well, well!" commented the marshal, when the concert was over. "Arethere many more like you at Harrigan?"

"A little group--enough to leaven the lump. "

"And this is your idea of a vacation?"

"No, it isn't a vacation; it's a summer-course in practical sociology. "

"Oh, I see!" said the marshal; and he smiled in spite of himself. 

"All last year we let the professors of political economy hand out theirtheories to us. But somehow the theories didn't seem to correspond withthe facts. I said to myself, 'I've got to check them up. ' You know thephrases, perhaps--individualism, _laissez faire_, freedom of contract, the right of every man to work for whom he pleases. And here you see howthe theories work out--a camp-marshal with a cruel smile on his face anda gun on his hip, breaking the laws faster than a governor can signthem. "

The camp-marshal decided suddenly that he had had enough of this"tea-party. " He rose to his feet to cut matters short. "If you don'tmind, young man, " said he, "we'll get down to business!"

SECTION 22. 

He took a turn about the room, then he came and stopped in front of Hal. He stood with his hands thrust into his pockets, with a certain jauntygrace that was out of keeping with his occupation. He was a handsomedevil, Hal thought--in spite of his dangerous mouth, and the marks ofdissipation on him. 

"Young man, " he began, with another effort at geniality. "I don't knowwho you are, but you're wide awake; you've got your nerve with you, and Iadmire you. So I'm willing to call the thing off, and let you go backand finish that course at college. "

Hal had been studying the other's careful smile. "Cotton, " he said, atlast, "let me get the proposition clear. I don't have to say I took thatmoney?"

"No, we'll let you off from that. "

"And you won't send me to the pen?"

"No. I never meant to do that, of course. I was only trying to bluffyou. All I ask is that you clear out, and give our people a chance toforget. "

"But what's there in that for me, Cotton? If I had wanted to run away, Icould have done it any time during the last eight or ten weeks. "

"Yes, of course, but now it's different. Now it's a matter of myconsideration. "

"Cut out the consideration!" exclaimed Hal. "You want to get rid of me, and you'd like to do it without trouble. But you can't--so forget it. "

The other was staring, puzzled. "You mean you expect to stay here?"

"I mean just that. "

"Young man, I've had enough of this! I've got no more time to play. Idon't care who you are, I don't care about your threats. I'm the marshalof this camp, and I have the job of keeping order in it. I say you'regoing to get out!"

"But, Cotton, " said Hal, "this is an incorporated town! I have a rightto walk on the streets--exactly as much right as you. "

"I'm not going to waste time arguing. I'm going to put you into anautomobile and take you down to Pedro!"

"And suppose I go to the District Attorney and demand that he prosecuteyou?"

"He'll laugh at you. "

"And suppose I go to the Governor of the state?"

"He'll laugh still louder. "

"All right, Cotton; maybe you know what you're doing; but I wonder--Iwonder just how sure you feel. Has it never occurred to you that yoursuperiors might not care to have you take these high-handed steps?"

"My superiors? Who do you mean?"

"There's one man in the state you must respect--even though you despisethe District Attorney and the Governor. That is Peter Harrigan. "

"Peter Harrigan?" echoed the other; and then he burst into a laugh. "Well, you _are_ a merry lad!"

Hal continued to study him, unmoved. "I wonder if you're sure! He'llstand for everything you've done. "

"He will!" said the other. 

"For the way you treat the workers? He knows you are giving shortweights. "

"Oh hell!" said the other. "Where do you suppose he got the money foryour college?"

There was a pause; at last the marshal asked, defiantly, "Have you gotwhat you want?"

"Yes, " replied Hal. "Of course, I thought it all along, but it's hard toconvince other people. Old Peter's not like most of these Westernwolves, you know; he's a pious high-church man. "

The marshal smiled grimly. "So long as there are sheep, " said he, there'll be wolves in sheep's clothing. "

"I see, " said Hal. "And you leave them to feed on the lambs!"

"If any lamb is silly enough to be fooled by that old worn-out skin, "remarked the marshal, "it deserves to be eaten. "

Hal was studying the cynical face in front of him. "Cotton, " he said, "the shepherds are asleep; but the watch-dogs are barking. Haven't youheard them?"

"I hadn't noticed. "

"They are barking, barking! They are going to wake the shepherds! Theyare going to save the sheep!"

"Religion don't interest me, " said the other, looking bored; "your kindany more than Old Peter's. "

And suddenly Hal rose to his feet. "Cotton, " said he, "my place is withthe flock! I'm going back to my job at the tipple!" And he startedtowards the door. 

SECTION 23. 

Jeff Cotton sprang forward. "Stop!" he cried. 

But Hal did not stop. 

"See here, young man!" cried the marshal. "Don't carry this joke toofar!" And he sprang to the door, just ahead of his prisoner. His handmoved toward his hip. 

"Draw your gun, Cotton, " said Hal; and, as the marshal obeyed, "Now Iwill stop. If I obey you in future, it will be at the point of yourrevolver. "

The marshal's mouth was dangerous-looking. "You may find that in thiscountry there's not so much between the drawing of a gun and the firingof it!"

"I've explained my attitude, " replied Hal. "What are your orders?"

"Come back and sit in this chair. "

So Hal sat, and the marshal went to his desk, and took up the telephone. "Number seven, " he said, and waited a moment. "That you, Tom? Bring thecar right away. "

He hung up the receiver, and there followed a silence; finally Halinquired, "I'm going to Pedro?"

There was no reply. 

"I see I've got on your nerves, " said Hal. "But I don't suppose it'soccurred to you that you deprived me of my money last night. Also, I'vean account with the company, some money coming to me for my work? Whatabout that?"

The marshal took up the receiver and gave another number. "Hello, Simpson. This is Cotton. Will you figure out the time of Joe Smith, buddy in Number Two, and send over the cash. Get his account at thestore; and be quick, we're waiting for it. He's going out in a hurry. "Again he hung up the receiver. 

"Tell me, " said Hal, "did you take that trouble for Mike Sikoria?"

There was silence. 

"Let me suggest that when you get my time, you give me part of it inscrip. I want it for a souvenir. "

Still there was silence. 

"You know, " persisted the prisoner, tormentingly, "there's a law againstpaying wages in scrip. "

The marshal was goaded to speech. "We don't pay in scrip. "

"But you do, man! You know you do!"

"We give it when they ask their money ahead. "

"The law requires you to pay them twice a month, and you don't do it. You pay them once a month, and meantime, if they need money, you givethem this imitation money!"

"Well, if it satisfies them, where's your kick?"

"If it doesn't satisfy them, you put them on the train and ship themout?"

The marshal sat in silence, tapping impatiently with his fingers on thedesk. 

"Cotton, " Hal began, again, "I'm out for education, and there'ssomething I'd like you to explain to me--a problem in human psychology. When a man puts through a deal like this, what does he tell himselfabout it?"

"Young man, " said the marshal, "if you'll pardon me, you are getting tobe a bore. "

"Oh, but we've got an automobile ride before us! Surely we can't sit insilence all the way!" After a moment he added, in a coaxing tone, "Ireally want to learn, you know. You might be able to win me over. "

"No!" said Cotton, promptly. "I'll not go in for anything like that!"

"But why not?"

"Because, I'm no match for you in long-windedness. I've heard youagitators before, you're all alike: you think the world is run bytalk--but it isn't. "

Hal had come to realise that he was not getting anywhere in his duelwith the camp-marshal. He had made every effort to get somewhere; he hadargued, threatened, bluffed, he had even sung songs for the marshal! Butthe marshal was going to ship him out, that was all there was to it. 

Hal had gone on with the quarrel, simply because he had to wait for theautomobile, and because he had endured indignities and had to vent hisanger and disappointment. But now he stopped quarrelling suddenly. Hisattention was caught by the marshal's words, "You think the world is runby talk!" Those were the words Hal's brother always used! And also, themarshal had said, "You agitators!" For years it had been one of thetaunts Hal had heard from his brother, "You will turn into one of theseagitators!" Hal had answered, with boyish obstinacy, "I don't care if Ido!" And now, here the marshal was calling him an agitator, seriously, without an apology, without the license of blood relationship. Herepeated the words, "That's what gets me about you agitators--you comein here trying to stir these people up--"

So that was the way Hal seemed to the "G. F. C. "! He had come hereintending to be a spectator, to stand on the deck of the steamer andlook down into the ocean of social misery. He had considered every stepso carefully before he took it! He had merely tried to be acheck-weighman, nothing more! He had told Tom Olson he would not go infor unionism; he had had a distrust of union organisers, of agitators ofall sorts--blind, irresponsible persons who went about stirring updangerous passions. He had come to admire Tom Olson--but that had onlypartly removed his prejudices; Olson was only one agitator, not thewhole lot of them!

But all his consideration for the company had counted for nothing;likewise all his efforts to convince the marshal that he was aleisure-class person. In spite of all Hal's "tea-party manners, " themarshal had said, "You agitators!" What was he judging by, Hal wondered. Had he, Hal Warner, come to look like one of these blind, irresponsiblepersons? It was time that he took stock of himself!

Had two months of "dirty work" in the bowels of the earth changed himso? The idea was bound to be disconcerting to one who had been afavourite of the ladies! Did he talk like it?--he who had been "kissingthe Blarney-stone!" The marshal had said he was "long-winded!" Well, tobe sure, he had talked a lot; but what could the man expect--having shuthim up in jail for two nights and a day, with only his grievances tobrood over! Was that the way real agitators were made--being shut upwith grievances to brood over?

Hal recalled his broodings in the jail. He had been embittered; he hadnot cared whether North Valley was dominated by labour unions. But thathad all been a mood, the same as his answer to his brother; that wasjail psychology, a part of his summer course in practical sociology. Hehad put it aside; but apparently it had made a deeper impression uponhim than he had realised. It had changed his physical aspect! It hadmade him look and talk like an agitator! It had made him"irresponsible, " "blind!"

Yes, that was it! All this dirt, ignorance, disease, this knavery andoppression, this maiming of men in body and soul in the coal-camps ofAmerica--all this did not exist--it was the hallucination of an"irresponsible" brain! There was the evidence of Hal's brother and thecamp-marshal to prove it; there was the evidence of the whole world toprove it! The camp-marshal and his brother and the whole world could notbe "blind!" And if you talked to them about these conditions, theyshrugged their shoulders, they called you a "dreamer, " a "crank, " theysaid you were "off your trolley"; or else they became angry and bitter, they called you names; they said, "You agitators!"

SECTION 24. 

The camp-marshal of North Valley had been "agitated" to such an extentthat he could not stay in his chair. All the harassments of his troubledcareer had come pouring into his mind. He had begun pacing the floor, and was talking away, regardless of whether Hal listened or not. 

"A campful of lousy wops! They can't understand any civilised language, they've only one idea in the world--to shirk every lick of work theycan, to fill up their cars with slate and rock and blame it on someother fellow, and go off to fill themselves with booze. They won't workfair, they won't fight fair--they fight with a knife in the back! Andyou agitators with your sympathy for them--why the hell do they come tothis country, unless they like it better than their own?"

Hal had heard this question before; but they had to wait for theautomobile--and being sure that he was an agitator now, he would makeall the trouble he could! "The reason is obvious enough, " he said. "Isn't it true that the 'G. F. C. ' employs agents abroad to tell them ofthe wonderful pay they get in America?"

"Well, they get it, don't they? Three times what they ever got at home!"

"Yes, but it doesn't do them any good. There's another fact which the'G. F. C. ' doesn't mention--that the cost of living is even higher thanthe wages. Then, too, they're led to think of America as a land ofliberty; they come, hoping for a better chance for themselves and theirchildren; but they find a camp-marshal who's off in his geography--whothinks the Rocky Mountains are somewhere in Russia!"

"I know that line of talk!" exclaimed the other. "I learned to wave thestarry flag when I was a kid. But I tell you, you've got to get coalmined, and it isn't the same thing as running a Fourth of Julycelebration. Some church people make a law they shan't work onSunday--and what comes of that? They have thirty-six hours to get sousedin, and so they can't work on Monday!"

"Surely there's a remedy, Cotton! Suppose the company refused to rentbuildings to saloon-keepers?"

"Good God! You think we haven't tried it? They go down to Pedro for thestuff, and bring back all they can carry--inside them and out. And if westop that--then our hands move to some other camps, where they can spendtheir money as they please. No, young man, when you have such cattle, you have to drive them! And it takes a strong hand to do it--a man likePeter Harrigan. If there's to be any coal, if industry's to go on, ifthere's to be any progress--"

"We have that in our song!" laughed Hal, breaking into thecamp-marshal's discourse--

 "He keeps them a-roll, that merry old soul-- The wheels of industree; A-roll and a-roll, for his pipe and his bowl And his college facultee!"

"Yes, " growled the marshal. "It's easy enough for you smart young chapsto make verses, while you're living at ease on the old man's bounty. Butthat don't answer any argument. Are you college boys ready to take overhis job? Or these Democrat politicians that come in here, talkingfool-talk about liberty, making labour laws for these wops--"

"I begin to understand, " said Hal. "You object to the politicians whopass the laws, you doubt their motives--and so you refuse to obey. Butwhy didn't you tell me sooner you were an anarchist?"

"Anarchist?" cried the marshal. "_Me_ an anarchist?"

"That's what an anarchist is, isn't it?"

"Good God! If that isn't the limit! You come here, stirring up themen--a union agitator, or whatever you are--and you know that the firstidea of these people, when they do break loose, is to put dynamite inthe shafts and set fire to the buildings!"

"Do they do that?" There was surprise in Hal's tone. 

"Haven't you read what they did in the last big strike? That dough-facedold preacher, John Edstrom, could tell you. He was one of the bunch. "

"No, " said Hal, "you're mistaken. Edstrom has a different philosophy. But others did, I've no doubt. And since I've been here, I canunderstand their point of view entirely. When they set fire to thebuildings, it was because they thought you and Alec Stone might beinside. "

The marshal did not smile. 

"They want to destroy the properties, " continued Hal, "because that'sthe only way they can think of to punish the tyranny and greed of theowners. But, Cotton, suppose some one were to put a new idea into theirheads; suppose some one were to say to them, 'Don't destroy theproperties--_take them!_'"

The other stared. "Take them! So that's your idea of morality!"

"It would be more moral than the method by which Peter got them in thebeginning. "

"What method is that?" demanded the marshal, with some appearance ofindignation. "He paid the market-price for them, didn't he?"

"He paid the market-price for politicians. Up in Western City I happento know a lady who was a school-commissioner when he was buyingschool-lands from the state--lands that were known to contain coal. Hewas paying three dollars an acre, and everybody knew they were worththree thousand. "

"Well, " said Cotton, "if you don't buy the politicians, you wake up somefine morning and find that somebody else has bought them. If you haveproperty, you have to protect it. "

"Cotton, " said Hal, "you sell Old Peter your time--but surely you mightkeep part of your brains! Enough to look at your monthly pay-check andrealise that you too are a wage-slave, not much better than the minersyou despise. "

The other smiled. "My check might be bigger, I admit; but I've figuredover it, and I think I have an easier time than you agitators. I'mtop-dog, and I expect to stay on top. "

"Well, Cotton, on that view of life, I don't wonder you get drunk nowand then. A dog-fight, with no faith or humanity anywhere! Don't thinkI'm sneering at you--I'm talking out of my heart to you. I'm not soyoung, nor such a fool, that I haven't had the dog-fight aspect ofthings brought to my attention. But there's something in a fellow thatinsists he isn't all dog; he has at least a possibility of somethingbetter. Take these poor under-dogs sweating inside the mountain, riskingtheir lives every hour of the day and night to provide you and me withcoal to keep us warm--to 'keep the wheels of industry a-roll'--"

SECTION 25. 

These were the last words Hal spoke. They were obvious enough words, yetwhen he looked back upon the coincidence, it seemed to him a singularone. For while he was sitting there chatting, it happened that the poorunder-dogs inside the mountain were in the midst of one of thoseexperiences which make the romance and terror of coal-mining. One of theboys who were employed underground, in violation of the child labourlaw, was in the act of bungling his task. He was a "spragger, " whoseduty it was to thrust a stick into the wheel of a loaded car to hold it;and he was a little chap, and the car was in motion when he made theattempt. It knocked him against the wall--and so there was a load ofcoal rolling down grade, pursued too late by half a dozen men. Gatheringmomentum, it whirled round a curve and flew from the track, crashinginto timbers and knocking them loose. With the timbers came a shower ofcoal-dust, accumulated for decades in these old workings; and at thesame time came an electric light wire, which, as it touched the car, produced a spark. 

And so it was that Hal, chatting with the marshal, suddenly felt, ratherthan heard, a deafening roar; he felt the air about him turn into aliving thing which struck him a mighty blow, hurling him flat upon thefloor. The windows of the room crashed inward upon him in a shower ofglass, and the plaster of the ceiling came down on his head in anothershower. 

When he raised himself, half stunned, he saw the marshal, also on thefloor; these two conversationalists stared at each other with horrifiedeyes. Even as they crouched, there came a crash above their heads, andhalf the ceiling of the room came toward them, with a great piece oftimber sticking through. All about them were other crashes, as if theend of the world had come. 

They struggled to their feet, and rushing to the door, flung it open, just as a jagged piece of timber shattered the side-walk in front ofthem. They sprang back again, "Into the cellar!" cried the marshal, leading the way to the back-stairs. 

But before they had started down these stairs, they realised that thecrashing had ceased. "What is it?" gasped Hal, as they stood. 

"Mine-explosion, " said the other; and after a few seconds they ran tothe door again. 

The first thing they saw was a vast pillar of dust and smoke, risinginto the sky above them. It spread before their dazed eyes, until itmade night of everything about them. There was still a rain of lighterdebris pattering down over the village; as they stared, and got theirwits about them, remembering how things had looked before this, theyrealised that the shaft-house of Number One had disappeared. 

"Blown up, by God!" cried the marshal; and the two ran out into thestreet, and looking up, saw that a portion of the wrecked building hadfallen through the roof of the jail above their heads. 

The rain of debris had now ceased, but there were clouds of dust whichcovered the two men black; the clouds grew worse, until they couldhardly see their way at all. And with the darkness there fell silence, which, after the sound of the explosion and the crashing of debris, seemed the silence of death. 

For a few moments Hal stood dazed. He saw a stream of men and boyspouring from the breaker; while from every street there appeared astream of women; women old, women young--leaving their cooking on thestove, their babies in the crib, with their older children screaming attheir skirts, they gathered in swarms about the pit-mouth, which waslike the steaming crater of a volcano. 

Cartwright, the superintendent, appeared, running toward the fan-house. Cotton joined him, and Hal followed. The fan-house was a wreck, thegiant fan lying on the ground a hundred feet away, its blades smashed. Hal was too inexperienced in mine-matters to get the full significanceof this; but he saw the marshal and the superintendent stare blankly ateach other, and heard the former's exclamation, "That does for us!"Cartwright said not a word; but his thin lips were pressed together, andthere was fear in his eyes. 

Back to the smoking pit-mouth the two men hurried, with Hal following. Here were a hundred, two hundred women crowded, clamouring questions allat once. They swarmed about the marshal, the superintendent, the otherbosses--even about Hal, crying hysterically in Polish and Bohemian andGreek. When Hal shook his head, indicating that he did not understandthem, they moaned in anguish, or shrieked aloud. Some continued to stareinto the smoking pit-mouth; others covered the sight from their eyes, orsank down upon their knees, sobbing, praying with uplifted hands. 

Little by little Hal began to realise the full horror of amine-disaster. It was not noise and smoke and darkness, nor frantic, wailing women; it was not anything above ground, but what was below inthe smoking black pit! It was men! Men whom Hal knew, whom he had workedwith and joked with, whose smiles he had shared; whose daily life he hadcome to know! Scores, possibly hundreds of them, they were down hereunder his feet--some dead, others injured, maimed. What would they do?What would those on the surface do for them? Hal tried to get to Cotton, to ask him questions; but the camp-marshal was surrounded, besieged. Hewas pushing the women back, exclaiming, "Go away! Go home!"

What? Go home? they cried. When their men were in the mine? They crowdedabout him closer, imploring, shrieking. 

"Get out!" he kept exclaiming. "There's nothing you can do! There'snothing anybody can do yet! Go home! Go home!" He had to beat them backby force, to keep them from pushing one another into the pit-mouth. 

Everywhere Hal looked were women in attitudes of grief: standing rigid, staring ahead of them as if in a trance; sitting down, rocking to andfro; on their knees with faces uplifted in prayer; clutching theirterrified children about their skirts. He saw an Austrian woman, apitiful, pale young thing with a ragged grey shawl about her head, stretching out her hands and crying: "Mein Mann! Mein Mann!" Presentlyshe covered her face, and her voice died into a wail of despair: "O, mein Mann! O, mein Mann!" She turned away, staggering about like somecreature that has received a death wound. Hal's eyes followed her; hercry, repeated over and over incessantly, became the leit-motif of thissymphony of horror. 

He had read about mine-disasters in his morning newspaper; but here amine-disaster became a thing of human flesh and blood. The unendurablepart of it was the utter impotence of himself and of all the world. Thisimpotence became clearer to him each moment--from the exclamations ofCotton and of the men he questioned. It was monstrous, incredible--butit was so! They must send for a new fan, they must wait for it to bebrought in, they must set it up and get it into operation; they mustwait for hours after that while smoke and gas were cleared out of themain passages of the mine; and until this had been done, there wasnothing they could do--absolutely nothing! The men inside the mine wouldstay. Those who had not been killed outright would make their way intothe remoter chambers, and barricade themselves against the deadly "afterdamp. " They would wait, without food or water, with air of doubtfulquality--they would wait and wait, until the rescue-crew could get tothem!

SECTION 26. 

At moments in the midst of this confusion, Hal found himself trying torecall who had worked in Number One, among the people he knew. Hehimself had been employed in Number Two, so he had naturally come toknow more men in that mine. But he had known some from the othermine--Old Rafferty for one, and Mary Burke's father for another, and atleast one of the members of his check-weighman group--Zamierowski. Halsaw in a sudden vision the face of this patient little man, who smiledso good-naturedly while Americans were trying to say his name. And OldRafferty, with all his little Rafferties, and his piteous efforts tokeep the favour of his employers! And poor Patrick Burke, whom Hal hadnever seen sober; doubtless he was sober now, if he was still alive!

Then in the crowd Hal encountered Jerry Minetti, and learned thatanother man who had been down was Farenzena, the Italian whose"fanciulla" had played with him; and yet another was JudasApostolikas--having taken his thirty pieces of silver with him into thedeathtrap!

People were making up lists, just as Hal was doing, by asking questionsof others. These lists were subject to revision--sometimes underdramatic circumstances. You saw a woman weeping, with her apron to hereyes; suddenly she would look up, give a piercing cry, and fling herarms about the neck of some man. As for Hal, he felt as if he wereencountering a ghost when suddenly he recognised Patrick Burke, standingin the midst of a group of people. He went over and heard the old man'sstory--how there was a Dago fellow who had stolen his timbers, and hehad come up to the surface for more; so his life had been saved, whilethe timber-thief was down there still--a judgment of Providence uponmine-miscreants!

Presently Hal asked if Burke had been to tell his family. He had runhome, he said, but there was nobody there. So Hal began pushing his waythrough the throngs, looking for Mary, or her sister Jennie, or herbrother Tommie. He persisted in this search, although it occurred to himto wonder whether the family of a hopeless drunkard would appreciate theinterposition of Providence in his behalf. 

He encountered Olson, who had had a narrow escape, being employed as asurface-man near the hoist. All this was an old story to the organiser, who had worked in mines since he was eight years old, and had seen manykinds of disaster. He began to explain things to Hal, in a matter offact way. The law required a certain number of openings to every mine, also an escape-way with ladders by which men could come out; but it costgood money to dig holes in the ground. 

At this time the immediate cause of the explosion was unknown, but theycould tell it was a "dust explosion" by the clouds of coke-dust, and noone who had been into the mine and seen its dry condition would doubtwhat they would find when they went down and traced out the "force" andits effects. They were supposed to do regular sprinkling, but in suchmatters the bosses used their own judgment. 

Hal was only half listening to these explanations. The thing was too rawand too horrible to him. What difference did it make whose fault it was?The accident had happened, and the question was now how to meet theemergency! Underneath Olson's sentences he heard the cry of men and boysbeing asphyxiated in dark dungeons--he heard the wailing of women, likea surf beating on a distant shore, or the faint, persistentaccompaniment of muted strings: "O, mein Mann! O, mein Mann!"

They came upon Jeff Cotton again. With half a dozen men to help him, hewas pushing back the crowd from the pit-mouth, and stretching barbedwired to hold them back. He was none too gentle about it, Hal thought;but doubtless women are provoking when they are hysterical. He wasanswering their frenzied questions, "Yes, yes! We're getting a new fan. We're doing everything we can, I tell you. We'll get them out. Go homeand wait. "

But of course no one would go home. How could a woman sit in her house, or go about her ordinary tasks of cooking or washing, while her manmight be suffering asphyxiation under the ground? The least she could dowas to stand at the pit-mouth--as near to him as she could get! Some ofthem stood motionless, hour after hour, while others wandered throughthe village streets, asking the same people, over and over again, ifthey had seen their loved ones. Several had turned up, like PatrickBurke; there seemed always a chance for one more. 

SECTION 27. 

In the course of the afternoon Hal came upon Mary Burke on the street. She had long ago found her father, and seen him off to O'Callahan's tocelebrate the favours of Providence. Now Mary was concerned with agraver matter. Number Two Mine was in danger! The explosion in NumberOne had been so violent that the gearing of the fan of the other mine, nearly a mile up the canyon, had been thrown out of order. So the fanhad stopped; and when some one had gone to Alec Stone, asking that hebring out the men, Stone had refused. "What do ye think he said?" criedMary. "What do ye think? 'Damn the men! Save the mules!'"

Hal had all but lost sight of the fact that there was a second mine inthe village, in which hundreds of men and boys were still at work. "Wouldn't they know about the explosion?" he asked. 

"They might have heard the noise, " said Mary. "But they'd not know whatit was; and the bosses won't tell them till they've got out the mules. "

For all that he had seen in North Valley, Hal could hardly credit thatstory. "How do you know it, Mary?"

"Young Rovetta just told me. He was there, and heard it with his ownears. "

He was staring at her. "Let's go and make sure, " he said, and theystarted up the main street of the village. On the way they were joinedby others--for already the news of this fresh trouble had begun tospread. Jeff Cotton went past them in an automobile, and Mary exclaimed, "I told ye so! When ye see him goin', ye know there's dirty work to bedone!"

They came to the shaft-house of Number Two, and found a swarm of people, almost a riot. Women and children were shrieking and gesticulating, threatening to break into the office and use the mine-telephone to warnthe men themselves. And here was the camp-marshal driving them back. Haland Mary arrived in time to see Mrs. David, whose husband was at work inNumber Two, shaking her fist in the marshal's face and screaming at himlike a wild-cat. He drew his revolver upon her; and at this Hal startedforward. A blind fury seized him--he would have thrown himself upon themarshal. 

But Mary Burke stopped him, flinging her arms about him, and pinning himby main force. "No, no!" she cried. "Stay back, man! D'ye want to getkilled?"

He was amazed at her strength. He was amazed also at the vehemence ofher emotion. She was calling him a crazy fool, and names even moreharsh. "Have ye no more sense than a woman? Running into the mouth of arevolver like that!"

The crisis passed in a moment, for Mrs. David fell back, and then themarshal put up his weapon. But Mary continued scolding Hal, trying todrag him away. "Come on now! Come out of here!"

"But, Mary! We must do something!"

"Ye can do nothin', I tell ye! Ye'd ought to have sense enough to knowit. I'll not let ye get yeself murdered! Come away now!" And half byforce and half by cajoling, she got him farther down the street. 

He was trying to think out the situation. Were the men in Number Tworeally in danger? Could it be possible that the bosses would take such achance in cold blood? And right at this moment, with the disaster in theother mine before their eyes! He could not believe it; and meantimeMary, at his side, was declaring that the men were in no real danger--itwas only Alec Stone's brutal words that had set her crazy. 

"Don't ye remember the time when the air-course was blocked before, andye helped to get up the mules yeself? Ye thought nothin' of it then, and'tis the same now. They'll get everybody out in time!"

She was concealing her real feelings in order to keep him safe; he lether lead him on, while he tried to think of something else to do. Hewould think of the men in Number Two; they were his best friends, JackDavid, Tim Rafferty, Wresmak, Androkulos, Klowoski. He would think ofthem, in their remote dungeons--breathing bad air, becoming sick andfaint--in order that mules might be saved! He would stop in his tracks, and Mary would drag him on, repeating over and over, "Ye can do nothin'!Nothin'!" And then he would think, What could he do? He had put up hisbest bluff to Jeff Cotton a few hours earlier, and the answer had beenthe muzzle of the marshal's revolver in his face. All he couldaccomplish now would be to bring himself to Cotton's attention, and bethrust out of camp forthwith. 

SECTION 28. 

They came to Mary's home; and next door was the home of the Slav woman, Mrs. Zamboni, about whom in the past she had told him so many funnystories. Mrs. Zamboni had had a new baby every year for sixteen years, and eleven of these babies were still alive. Now her husband was trappedin Number One, and she was distracted, wandering about the streets withthe greater part of her brood at her heels. At intervals she would emita howl like a tortured animal, and her brood would take it up in varioustimbres. Hal stopped to listen to the sounds, but Mary put her fingersinto her ears and fled into the house. Hal followed her, and saw herfling herself into a chair and burst into hysterical weeping. Andsuddenly Hal realised what a strain this terrible affair had been uponMary. It had been bad enough to him--but he was a man, and more able tocontemplate sights of horror. Men went to their deaths in industry andwar, and other men saw them go and inured themselves to the spectacle. But women were the mothers of these men; it was women who bore them inpain, nursed them and reared them with endless patience--women couldnever become inured to the spectacle! Then too, the women's fate wasworse. If the men were dead, that was the end of them; but the womenmust face the future, with its bitter memories, its lonely and desolatestruggle for existence. The women must see the children suffering, dyingby slow stages of deprivation. 

Hal's pity for all suffering women became concentrated upon the girlbeside him. He knew how tenderhearted she was. She had no man in themine, but some day she would have, and she was suffering the pangs ofthat inexorable future. He looked at her, huddled in her chair, wipingaway her tears with the hem of her old blue calico. She seemedunspeakably pathetic--like a child that has been hurt. She was sobbingout sentences now and then, as if to herself: "Oh, the poor women, thepoor women! Did ye see the face of Mrs. Jonotch? She'd jumped into thesmoking pit-mouth if they'd let her!"

"Don't suffer so, Mary!" pleaded Hal--as if he thought she could stop. 

"Let me alone!" she cried. "Let me have it out!" And Hal, who had had noexperience with hysteria, stood helplessly by. 

"There's more misery than I ever knew there was!" she went on. "'Tiseverywhere ye turn, a woman with her eyes burnin' with sufferingwondering if she'll ever see her man again! Or some mother whose lad maybe dying and she can do nothin' for him!"

"And neither can you do anything, Mary, " Hal pleaded again. "You're onlysorrowing yourself to death. "

"Ye say that to me?" she cried. "And when ye were ready to let JeffCotton shoot ye, because you were so sorry for Mrs. David! No, thesights here nobody can stand. "

He could think of nothing to answer. He drew up a chair and sat by herin silence, and after a while she began to grow calmer, and wiped awayher tears, and sat gazing dully through the doorway into the dirtylittle street. 

Hal's eyes followed hers. There were the ash-heaps and tomato-cans, there were two of Mrs. Zamboni's bedraggled brood, poking with sticksinto a dump-heap--looking for something to eat, perhaps, or forsomething to play with. There was the dry, waste grass of the road-side, grimy with coal-dust, as was everything else in the village. What ascene!--And this girl's eyes had never a sight of anything moreinspiring than this. Day in and day out, all her life long, she lookedat this scene! Had he ever for a moment reproached her for her "blackmoods"? With such an environment could men or women be cheerful--couldthey dream of beauty, aspire to heights of nobility and courage, tohappy service of their fellows? There was a miasma of despair over thisplace; it was not a real place--it was a dream-place--a horrible, distorted nightmare! It was like the black hole in the ground whichhaunted Hal's imagination, with men and boys at the bottom of it, dyingof asphyxiation!

Suddenly it came to Hal--he wanted to get away from North Valley! To getaway at all costs! The place had worn down his courage; slowly, dayafter day, the sight of misery and want, of dirt and disease, of hunger, oppression, despair, had eaten the soul out of him, had undermined hisfine structure of altruistic theories. Yes, he wanted to escape--to aplace where the sun shone, where the grass grew green, where humanbeings stood erect and laughed and were free. He wanted to shut from hiseyes the dust and smoke of this nasty little village; to stop his earsto that tormenting sound of women wailing: "O, mein Mann! O, mein Mann!"

He looked at the girl, who sat staring before her, bent forward, herarms hanging limply over her knees. 

"Mary, " he said, "you must go away from here! It's no place for atenderhearted girl to be. It's no place for any one!"

She gazed at him dully for a moment. "It was me that was tellin' _you_to go away, " she said, at last. "Ever since ye came here I been sayin'it! Now I guess ye know what I mean. "

"Yes, " he said, "I do, and I want to go. But I want you to go too. "

"D'ye think 'twould do me any good, Joe?" she asked. "D'ye think 'twoulddo me any good to get away? Could I ever forget the sights I've seenthis day? Could I ever have any real, honest happiness anywhere afterthis?"

He tried to reassure her, but he was far from reassured himself. Howwould it be with him? Would he ever feel that he had a right tohappiness after this? Could he take any satisfaction in a pleasant andcomfortable world, knowing that it was based upon such hideous misery?His thoughts went to that world, where careless, pleasure-loving peoplesought gratification of their desires. It came to him suddenly that whathe wanted more than to get away was to bring those people here, if onlyfor a day, for an hour, that they might hear this chorus of wailingwomen!

SECTION 29. 

Mary made Hal swear that he would not get into a fight with Cotton; thenthey went to Number Two. They found the mules coming up, and the bossespromising that in a short while the men would be coming. Everything wasall right--there was not a bit of danger! But Mary was afraid to trustHal, in spite of his promise, so she lured him back to Number One. 

They found that a rescue-car had just arrived from Pedro, bringingdoctors and nurses, also several "helmets. " These "helmets" were strangelooking contrivances, fastened over the head and shoulders, air-tight, and provided with oxygen sufficient to last for an hour or more. The menwho wore them sat in a big bucket which was let down the shaft with awindlass, and every now and then they pulled on a signal-cord to letthose on the surface know they were alive. When the first of them cameback, he reported that there were bodies near the foot of the shaft, butapparently all dead. There was heavy black smoke, indicating a firesomewhere in the mine; so nothing more could be done until the fan hadbeen set up. By reversing the fan, they could draw out the smoke andgases and clear the shaft. 

The state mine-inspector had been notified, but was ill at home, and wassending one of his deputies. Under the law this official would havecharge of all the rescue work, but Hal found that the miners took nointerest in his presence. It had been his duty to prevent the accident, and he had not done so. When he came, he would do what the companywanted. 

Some time after dark the workers began to come out of Number Two, andtheir women, waiting at the pit-mouth, fell upon their necks with criesof thankfulness. Hal observed other women, whose men were in Number One, and would perhaps never come out again, standing and watching thesegreetings with wistful, tear-filled eyes. Among those who came out wasJack David, and Hal walked home with him and his wife, listening to thelatter abuse Jeff Cotton and Alec Stone, which was an education in thevocabulary of class-consciousness. The little Welsh woman repeated thepit-boss's saying, "Damn the men, save the mules!" She said it again andagain--it seemed to delight her like a work of art, it summed up soperfectly the attitude of the bosses to their men! There were many otherpeople repeating that saying, Hal found; it went all over the village, in a few days it went all over the district. It summed up what thedistrict believed to be the attitude of the coal-operators to theworkers!

Having got over the first shock of the disaster, Hal wanted information, and he questioned Big Jack, a solid and well-read man who had giventhought to every aspect of the industry. In his quiet, slow way, heexplained to Hal that the frequency of accidents in this district wasnot due to any special difficulty in operating these mines, theexplosiveness of the gases or the dryness of the atmosphere. It wasmerely the carelessness of those in charge, their disregard of the lawsfor the protection of the men. There ought to be a law with "teeth" init--for example, one providing that for every man killed in a coal-minehis heirs should receive a thousand dollars, regardless of who had beento blame for the accident. Then you would see how quickly the operatorswould get busy and find remedies for the "unusual" dangers!

As it was, they knew that no matter how great their culpability, theycould get off with slight loss. Already, no doubt, their lawyers were onthe spot, and by the time the first bodies were brought out, they wouldbe fixing things up with the families. They would offer a widow a ticketback to the old country; they would offer a whole family of orphanedchildren, maybe fifty dollars, maybe a hundred dollars--and it would bea case of take it or leave it. You could get nothing from the courts;the case was so hopeless that you could not even find a lawyer to makethe attempt. That was one reform in which the companies believed, said"Big Jack, " with sarcasm; they had put the "shyster lawyer" out ofbusiness!

SECTION 30. 

There followed a night and then another day of torturing suspense. Thefan came, but it had to be set up before anything could be done. Asvolumes of black smoke continued to pour from the shaft, the opening wasmade tight with a board and canvas cover; it was necessary, the bossessaid, but to Hal it seemed the climax of horror. To seal up men and boysin a place of deadly gases!

There was something peculiarly torturing in the idea of men caught in amine; they were directly under one's feet, yet it was impossible to getto them, to communicate with them in any way! The people on top yearnedto them, and they, down below, yearned back. It was impossible to forgetthem for even a few minutes. People would become abstracted while theytalked, and would stand staring into space; suddenly, in the midst of acrowd, a woman would bury her face in her hands and burst into tears, and then all the others would follow suit. 

Few people slept in North Valley during those two nights. They heldmourning parties in their homes or on the streets. Some house-work hadto be done, of course, but no one did anything that could be leftundone. The children would not play; they stood about, silent, pale, like wizened-up grown people, over-mature in knowledge of trouble. Thenerves of every one were on edge, the self-control of every one balancedupon a fine point. 

It was a situation bound to be fruitful in imaginings and rumours, stimulated to those inclined to signs and omens--the seers of ghosts, orthose who went into trances, or possessed second sight or othermysterious gifts. There were some living in a remote part of the villagewho declared they had heard explosions under the ground, several blastsin quick succession. The men underground were setting off dynamite byway of signalling!

In the course of the second day Hal sat with Mary Burke upon the stepsof her home. Old Patrick lay within, having found the secret of oblivionat O'Callahan's. Now and then came the moaning of Mrs. Zamboni, who wasin her cabin with her brood of children. Mary had been in to feed them, because the distracted mother let them starve and cry. Mary was wornout, herself; the wonderful Irish complexion had faded, and there wereno curves to the vivid lips. They had been sitting in silence, for therewas nothing to talk of but the disaster--and they had said all there wasto say about that. But Hal had been thinking while he watched Mary. 

"Listen, Mary, " he said, at last; "when this thing is over, you mustreally come away from here. I've thought it all out--I have friends inWestern City who will give you work, so you can take care of yourself, and of your brother and sister too. Will you go?"

But she did not answer. She continued to gaze indifferently into thedirty little street. 

"Truly, Mary, " he went on. "Life isn't so terrible everywhere as it ishere. Come away! Hard as it is to believe, you'll forget all this. People suffer, but then they stop suffering; it's nature's way--to makethem forget. "

"Nature's way has been to beat me dead, " said she. 

"Yes, Mary. Despair can become a disease, but it hasn't with you. You'rejust tired out. If you'll try to rouse yourself--" And he reached overand caught her hand with an attempt at playfulness. "Cheer up, Mary!You're coming away from North Valley. "

She turned and looked at him. "Am I?" she asked, impassively; and shewent on studying his face. "Who are ye, Joe Smith? What are ye doin'here?"

"Working in a coal-mine, " he laughed, still trying to divert her. 

But she went on, as gravely as before. "Ye're no working man, that Iknow. And ye're always offering me help! Ye're always sayin' what ye cando for me!" She paused and there came some of the old defiance into herface. "Joe, ye can have no idea of the feelin's that have got hold of mejust now. I'm ready to do something desperate; ye'd best be leavin' mealone, Joe!"

"I think I understand, Mary. I would hardly blame you for anything youdid. "

She took up his words eagerly. "Wouldn't ye, Joe? Ye're sure? Then whatI want is to get the truth from ye. I want ye to talk it out fair!"

"All right, Mary. What is it?"

But her defiance had vanished suddenly. Her eyes dropped, and he saw herfingers picking nervously at a fold of her dress. "About us, Joe, " shesaid. "I've thought sometimes ye cared for me. I've thought ye liked tobe with me--not just because ye were sorry for me, but because of _me_. I've not been sure, but I can't help thinkin' it's so. Is it?"

"Yes, it is, " he said, a little uncertainly. "I _do_ care for you. "

"Then is it that ye don't care for that other girl all the time?"

"No, " he said, "it's not that. "

"Ye can care for two girls at the same time?"

He did not know what to say. "It would seem that I can, Mary. "

She raised her eyes again and studied his face. "Ye told me about thatother girl, and I been wonderin', was it only to put me off? Maybe it'sme own fault, but I can't make meself believe in that other girl, Joe!"

"You're mistaken, Mary, " he answered, quickly. "What I told you wastrue. "

"Well, maybe so, " she said, but there was no conviction in her tone. "Yecome away from her, and ye never go where she is or see her--it's hardto believe ye'd do that way if ye were very close to her. I just don'tthink ye love her as much as ye might. And ye say you do care some forme. So I've thought--I've wondered--"

She stopped, forcing herself to meet his gaze: "I been tryin' to work itout! I know ye're too good a man for me, Joe. Ye come from a betterplace in life, ye've a right to expect more in a woman--"

"It's not that, Mary!"

But she cut him short. "I know that's true! Ye're only tryin' to save myfeelin's. I know ye're better than me! I've tried hard to hold me headup, I've tried a long time not to let meself go to pieces. I've eventried to keep cheerful, telling meself I'd not want to be like Mrs. Zamboni, forever complainin'. But 'tis no use tellin' yourself lies! Ibeen up to the church, and heard the Reverend Spragg tell the peoplethat the rich and poor are the same in the sight of the Lord. And maybe'tis so, but I'm not the Lord, and I'll never pretend I'm not ashamed tobe livin' in a place like this. "

"I'm sure the Lord has no interest in keeping you here--" he began. 

But she broke in, "What makes it so hard to bear is knowin' there's somany wonderful things in the world, and ye can never have them! 'Tis asif ye had to see them through a pane of glass, like in the window of astore. Just think, Joe Smith--once, in a church in Sheridan, I heard alady sing beautiful music; once in my whole lifetime! Can ye guess whatit meant to me?"

"Yes, Mary, I can. "

"But I had that all out with meself--years ago. I knew the price aworkin' girl has to pay for such things, and I said, I'll not let meselfthink about them. I've hated this place, I've wanted to get away--butthere's only one way to go, to let some man take ye! So I've stayed;I've kept straight, Joe. I want ye to believe that. "

"Of course, Mary!"

"No! It's not been 'of course'! It means ye have to fight withtemptations. It's many a time I've looked at Jeff Cotton, and thoughtabout the things I need! And I've done without! But now comes the thinga woman wants more than all the other things in the world!"

She paused, but only for a moment. "They tell ye to love a man of yourown class. Me old mother said that to me, before she died. But supposeye didn't happen to? Suppose ye'd stopped and thought what it meant, havin' one baby after another, till ye're worn out and drop--like me oldmother did? Suppose ye knew good manners when ye see them--ye knewinterestin' talk when ye heard it!" She clasped her hands suddenlybefore her, exclaiming, "Ah, 'tis something different ye are, Joe--sodifferent from anything around here! The way ye talk, the way ye move, the gay look in your eyes! No miner ever had that happy look, Joe; meheart stops beatin' almost when ye look at me!" She stopped with a sharpcatching of her breath, and he saw that she was struggling forself-control. After a moment she exclaimed, defiantly: "But they'd tellye, be careful, ye daren't love that kind of man; ye'd only have yourheart broken!"

There was silence. For this problem the amateur sociologist had nosolution at hand--whether for the abstract question, or for its concreteapplication!

SECTION 31. 

Mary forced herself to go on. "This is how I've worked it out, Joe! Isaid to meself, 'Ye love this man; and it's his _love_ ye want--nothin'else! If he's got a place in the world, ye'd only hold him back--andye'd not want to do that. Ye don't want his name, or his friends, or anyof those things--ye want _him_!' Have ye ever heard of such a thing asthat?"

Her cheeks were flaming, but she continued to meet his gaze. "Yes, I'veheard of it, " he answered, in a low voice. 

"What would ye say to it? Is it honest? The Reverend Spragg would say'twas the devil, no doubt; Father O'Gorman, down in Pedro, would call itmortal sin; and maybe they know--but I don't! I only know I can't standit any more!"

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she cried out suddenly, "Oh, take me awayfrom here! Take me away and give me a chance, Joe! I'll ask nothing, I'll never stand in your way; I'll work for ye, I'll cook and wash anddo everything for ye, I'll wear my fingers to the bone! Or I'll go outand work at some job, and earn my share. And I'll make ye thispromise--if ever ye get tired and want to leave me, ye'll not hear aword of complaint!"

She made no conscious appeal to his senses; she sat gazing at himhonestly through her tears, and that made it all the harder to answerher. 

What could he say? He felt the old dangerous impulse--to take the girlin his arms and comfort her. When finally he spoke it was with an effortto keep his voice calm. "I'd say yes, Mary, if I thought it would work. "

"It _would_ work! It would, Joe! Ye can quit when ye want to. I meanit!"

"There's no woman lives who can be happy on such terms, Mary. She wantsher man, and she wants him to herself, and she wants him always; she'sonly deluding herself if she believes anything else. You're over-wroughtnow, what you've seen in the last few days has made you wild--"

"No!" she exclaimed. "'Tis not only that! I been thinkin' about it forweeks. "

"I know. You've been thinking, but you wouldn't have spoken if it hadn'tbeen for this horror. " He paused for a moment, to renew his ownself-possession. "It won't do, Mary, " he declared. "I've seen it triedmore than once, and I'm not so old either. My own brother tried it once, and ruined himself. "

"Ah, ye're afraid to trust me, Joe!"

"No, it's not that; what I mean is--he ruined his own heart, he madehimself selfish. He took everything, and gave nothing. He's much olderthan I, so I've had a chance to see its effect on him. He's cold, he hasno faith, even in his own nature; when you talk to him about making theworld better he tells you you're a fool. "

"It's another way of bein' afraid of me, " she insisted. "Afraid you'dought to marry me!"

"But, Mary--there's the other girl. I really love her, and I'm promisedto her. What can I do?"

"'Tis that I've never believed you loved her, " she said, in a whisper. Her eyes fell and she began picking nervously again at the faded bluedress, which was smutted and grease-stained, perhaps from her recenteffort with Mrs. Zamboni's brood. Several times Hal thought she wasgoing to speak, but she shut her lips tightly again; he watched her, hisheart aching. 

When finally she spoke, it was still in a whisper, and there was a noteof humility he had never heard from her before. "Ye'll not be wantin' tospeak to me, Joe, after what I've said. "

"Oh, Mary!" he exclaimed, and caught her hand, "don't say I've made youmore unhappy! I want to help you! Won't you let me be your friend--yourreal, true friend? Let me help you to get out of this trap; you'll havea chance to look about, you'll find a way to be happy--the whole worldwill seem different to you then, and you'll laugh at the idea that youever wanted me!"

SECTION 32. 

The two of them went back to the pit-mouth. It had been two days sincethe disaster, and still the fan had not been started, and there was nosign of its being started. The hysteria of the women was growing, andthere was a tension in the crowds. Jeff Cotton had brought in a force ofmen to assist him in keeping order. They had built a fence of barbedwire about the pit-mouth and its approaches, and behind this wire theywalked--hard-looking citizens with policemen's "billies, " and the bulgeof revolvers plainly visible on their hips. 

During this long period of waiting, Hal had talks with members of hischeck-weighman group. They told what had happened while he was in jail, and this reminded him of something which had been driven from his mindby the explosion. Poor old John Edstrom was down in Pedro, perhaps indire need. Hal went to the old Swede's cabin that night, climbed througha window, and dug up the buried money. There were five five-dollarbills, and he put them in an envelope, addressed them in care of GeneralDelivery, Pedro, and had Mary Burke take them to the post office andregister them. 

The hours dragged on, and still there was no sign of the pit-mouth beingopened. There began to be secret gatherings of the miners and theirwives to complain at the conduct of the company; and it was natural thatHal's friends who had started the check-weighman movement, should takethe lead in these. They were among the most intelligent of the workers, and saw farther into the meaning of events. They thought, not merely ofthe men who were trapped under ground at this moment, but of thousandsof others who would be trapped through years to come. Hal, especially, was pondering how he could accomplish something definite before he leftthe camp; for of course he would have to leave soon--Jeff Cotton wouldremember him, and carry out his threat to get rid of him. 

Newspapers had come in, with accounts of the disaster, and Hal and hisfriends read these. It was evident that the company had been at pains tohave the accounts written from its own point of view. There existed somepublic sensitiveness on the subject of mine-disasters in this state. Thedeath-rate from accidents was seen to be mounting steadily; the reportsof the state mine inspector showed six per thousand in one year, eightand a half in the next, and twenty-one and a half in the next. Whenfifty or a hundred men were killed in a single accident, and when suchaccidents kept happening, one on the heels of another, even the mostcallous public could not help asking questions. So in this case the "G. F. C. " had been careful to minimise the loss of life, and to makeexcuses. The accident had been owing to no fault of the company's; themine had been regularly sprinkled, both with water and adobe dust, andso the cause of the explosion must have been the carelessness of the menin handling powder. 

In Jack David's cabin one night there arose a discussion as to thenumber of men entombed in the mine. The company's estimate of the numberwas forty, but Minetti and Olson and David agreed that this was absurd. Any man who went about in the crowds could satisfy himself that therewere two or three times as many unaccounted for. And this falsificationwas deliberate, for the company had a checking system, whereby it knewthe name of every man in the mine. But most of these names wereunpronounceable Slavish, and the owners of the names had no friends tomention them--at least not in any language understood by Americannewspaper editors. 

It was all a part of the system, declared Jack David: its purpose andeffect being to enable the company to go on killing men without payingfor them, either in money or in prestige. It occurred to Hal that itmight be worth while to contradict these false statements--almost asworth while as to save the men who were at this moment entombed. Any onewho came forward to make such a contradiction would of course be givinghimself up to the black-list; but then, Hal regarded himself as a manalready condemned to that penalty. 

Tom Olson spoke up. "What would you do with your contradiction?"

"Give it to the papers, " Hal answered. 

"But what papers would print it?"

"There are two rival papers in Pedro, aren't there?"

"One owned by Alf Raymond, the sheriff-emperor, and the other byVagleman, counsel for the 'G. F. C. ' Which one would you try?"

"Well then, the outside papers--those in Western City. There arereporters here now, and some one of them would surely take it. "

Olson answered, declaring that they would not get any but labour andSocialist papers to print such news. But even that was well worth doing. And Jack David, who was strong for unions and all their activities, putin, "The thing to do is to take a regular census, so as to know exactlyhow many are in the mine. "

The suggestion struck fire, and they agreed to set to work that sameevening. It would be a relief to do something, to have something intheir minds but despair. They passed the word to Mary Burke, to Rovetta, Klowoski, and others; and at eleven o'clock the next morning they metagain, and the lists were put together, and it was found that no lessthan a hundred and seven men and boys were positively known to be insideNumber One. 

SECTION 33. 

As it happened, however, discussion of this list and the method ofgiving it to the world was cut short by a more urgent matter. Jack Davidcame in with news of fresh trouble at the pit-mouth. The new fan wasbeing put in place; but they were slow about it, so slow that somepeople had become convinced that they did not mean to start the fan atall, but were keeping the mine sealed to prevent the fire fromspreading. A group of such malcontents had presumed to go to Mr. Carmichael, the deputy state mine-inspector, to urge him to take someaction; and the leader of these protestants, Huszar, the Austrian, whohad been one of Hal's check-weighman group, had been taken into custodyand marched at double-quick to the gate of the stockade!

Jack David declared furthermore that he knew a carpenter who was workingin the fan-house, and who said that no haste whatever was being made. All the men at the fan-house shared that opinion; the mine was sealed, and would stay sealed until the company was sure the fire was out. 

"But, " argued Hal, "if they were to open it, the fire would spread; andwouldn't that prevent rescue work?"

"Not at all, " declared "Big Jack. " He explained that by reversing thefan they could draw the smoke up through the air-course, which wouldclear the main passages for a time. "But, you see, some coal might catchfire, and some timbers; there might be falls of rock so they couldn'twork some of the rooms again. "

"How long will they keep the mine sealed?" cried Hal, in consternation. 

"Nobody can say. In a big mine like that, a fire might smoulder for aweek. "

"Everybody be dead!" cried Rosa Minetti, wringing her hands in a suddenaccess of grief. 

Hal turned to Olson. "Would they possibly do such a thing?"

"It's been done--more than once, " was the organiser's reply. 

"Did you never hear about Cherry, Illinois?" asked David. "They did itthere, and more than three hundred people lost their lives. " He went onto tell that dreadful story, known to every coal-miner. They had sealedthe mine, while women fainted and men tore their clothes in frenzy--somegoing insane. They had kept it sealed for two weeks, and when theyopened it, there were twenty-one men still alive!

"They did the same thing in Diamondville, Wyoming, " added Olson. "Theybuilt up a barrier, and when they took it away they found a heap of deadmen, who had crawled to it and torn their fingers to the bone trying tobreak through. "

"My God!" cried Hal, springing to his feet. "And this manCarmichael--would he stand for that?"

"He'd tell you they were doing their best, " said "Big Jack. " "And maybehe thinks they are. But you'll see--something'll keep happening; they'lldrag on from day to day, and they'll not start the fan till they'reready. "

"Why, it's murder!" cried Hal. 

"It's business, " said Tom Olson, quietly. 

Hal looked from one to another of the faces of these working people. Notone but had friends in that trap; not one but might be in the same trapto-morrow!

"You have to stand it!" he exclaimed, half to himself. 

"Don't you see the guards at the pit-mouth?" answered David. "Don't yousee the guns sticking out of their pockets?"

"They bring in more guards this morning, " put in Jerry Minetti. "Rosa, she see them get off. "

"They know what they doin'!" said Rosa. "They only fraid we find it out!They told Mrs. Zamboni she keep away or they send her out of camp. Andold Mrs. Jonotch--her husband and three sons inside!"

"They're getting rougher and rougher, " declared Mrs. David. "That bigfellow they call Pete, that came up from Pedro--the way he's handlingthe women is a shame!"

"I know him, " put in Olson; "Pete Hanun. They had him in Sheridan whenthe union first opened headquarters. He smashed one of our organisers inthe mouth and broke four of his teeth. They say he has a jail-record. "

All through the previous year at college Hal had listened to lecturesupon political economy, filled with the praises of a thing called"Private Ownership. " This Private Ownership developed initiative andeconomy; it kept the wheels of industry a-roll, it kept fat thepay-rolls of college faculties; it accorded itself with the sacred lawsof supply and demand, it was the basis of the progress and prosperitywherewith America had been blessed. And here suddenly Hal found himselfface to face with the reality of it; he saw its wolfish eyes glaringinto his own, he felt its smoking hot breath in his face, he saw itsgleaming fangs and claw-like fingers, dripping with the blood of men andwomen and children. Private Ownership of coal-mines! Private Ownershipof sealed-up entrances and non-existent escape-ways! Private Ownershipof fans which did not start, of sprinklers which did not sprinkle. Private Ownership of clubs and revolvers, and of thugs and ex-convictsto use them, driving away rescuers and shutting up agonised widows andorphans in their homes! Oh, the serene and well-fed priests of PrivateOwnership, chanting in academic halls the praises of the bloody Demon!

Suddenly Hal stopped still. Something had risen in him, the existence ofwhich he had never suspected. There was a new look upon his face, hisvoice was deep as a strong man's when he spoke: "I am going to make themopen that mine!"

They looked at him. They were all of them close to the border ofhysteria, but they caught the strange note in his utterance. "I am goingto make them open that mine!"

"How?" asked Olson. 

"The public doesn't know about this thing. If the story got out, there'dbe such a clamour, it couldn't go on!"

"But how will you get it out?"

"I'll give it to the newspapers! They can't suppress such a thing--Idon't care how prejudiced they are!"

"But do you think they'd believe what a miner's buddy tells them?" askedMrs. David. 

"I'll find a way to make them believe me, " said Hal. "I'm going to makethem open that mine!"

SECTION 34. 

In the course of his wanderings about the camp, Hal had observed severalwide-awake looking young men with notebooks in their hands. He could seethat these young men were being made guests of the company, chattingwith the bosses upon friendly terms; nevertheless, he believed thatamong them he might find one who had a conscience--or at any rate whowould yield to the temptation of a "scoop. " So, leaving the gathering atMrs. David's, Hal went to the pit-mouth, watching out for one of thesereporters; when he found him, he followed him for a while, desiring toget him where no company "spotter" might interfere. At the first chance, he stepped up, and politely asked the reporter to come into a sidestreet, where they might converse undisturbed. 

The reporter obeyed the request; and Hal, concealing the intensity ofhis feelings, so as not to repel the other, let it be known that he hadworked in North Valley for some months, and could tell much aboutconditions in the camp. There was the matter of adobe-dust, for example. Explosions in dry mines could be prevented by spraying the walls withthis material. Did the reporter happen to know that the company's claimto have used it was entirely false?

No, the reporter answered, he did not know this. He seemed interested, and asked Hal's name and occupation. Hal told him "Joe Smith, " a"buddy, " who had recently been chosen as check-weighman. The reporter, alean and keen-faced young man, asked many questions--intelligentquestions; incidentally he mentioned that he was the local correspondentof the great press association whose stories of the disaster were sentto every corner of the country. This seemed to Hal an extraordinarypiece of good fortune, and he proceeded to tell this Mr. Graham aboutthe census which some of the workers had taken; they were able to givethe names of a hundred and seven men and boys who were inside the mine. The list was at Mr. Graham's disposal if he cared to see it. Mr. Grahamseemed more interested than ever, and made notes in his book. 

Another thing, more important yet, Hal continued; the matter of thedelay in getting the fan started. It had been three days since theexplosion, but there had been no attempt at entering the mine. Had Mr. Graham seen the disturbance at the pit-mouth that morning? Did herealise that a man had been thrown out of camp merely because he hadappealed to the deputy state mine-inspector? Hal told what so many hadcome to believe--that the company was saving property at the expense oflife. He went on to point out the human meaning of this--he told aboutold Mrs. Rafferty, with her failing health and her eight children; aboutMrs. Zamboni, with eleven children; about Mrs. Jonotch, with a husbandand three sons in the mine. Led on by the reporter's interest, Hal beganto show some of his feeling. These were human beings, not animals; theyloved and suffered, even though they were poor and humble!

"Most certainly!" said Mr. Graham. "You're right, and you may restassured I'll look into this. "

"There's one thing more, " said Hal. "If my name is mentioned, I'll befired, you know. "

"I won't mention it, " said the other. 

"Of course, if you can't publish the story without giving its source--"

"I'm the source, " said the reporter, with a smile. "Your name would notadd anything. "

He spoke with quiet assurance; he seemed to know so completely both thesituation and his own duty in regard to it, that Hal felt a thrill oftriumph. It was as if a strong wind had come blowing from the outsideworld, dispelling the miasma which hung over this coal-camp. Yes, thisreporter _was_ the outside world! He was the power of public opinion, making itself felt in this place of knavery and fear! He was the voiceof truth, the courage and rectitude of a great organisation ofpublicity, independent of secret influences, lifted above corruption!

"I'm indebted to you, " said Mr. Graham, at the end, and Hal's sense ofvictory was complete. What an extraordinary chance--that he should haverun into the agent of the great press association! The story would goout to the great world of industry, which depended upon coal as itslife-blood. The men in the factories, the wheels of which were turned bycoal--the travellers on trains which were moved by coal--they would hearat last of the sufferings of those who toiled in the bowels of the earthfor them! Even the ladies, reclining upon the decks of palatialsteamships in gleaming tropic seas--so marvellous was the power ofmodern news-spreading agencies, that these ladies too might hear the cryfor help of these toilers, and of their wives and little ones! And fromthis great world would come an answer, a universal shout of horror, ofexecration, that would force even old Peter Harrigan to give way! So Halmused--for he was young, and this was his first crusade. 

He was so happy that he was able to think of himself again, and torealise that he had not eaten that day. It was noon-time, and he wentinto Reminitsky's, and was about half through with the first course ofReminitsky's two-course banquet, when his cruel disillusioning fell uponhim!

He looked up and saw Jeff Cotton striding into the dining-room, makingstraight for him. There was blood in the marshal's eye, and Hal saw it, and rose, instinctively. 

"Come!" said Cotton, and took him by the coat-sleeve and marched himout, almost before the rest of the diners had time to catch theirbreath. 

Hal had no opportunity now to display his "tea-party manners" to thecamp-marshal. As they walked, Cotton expressed his opinion of him, thathe was a skunk, a puppy, a person of undesirable ancestry; and when Halendeavoured to ask a question--which he did quite genuinely, notgrasping at once the meaning of what was happening--the marshal bade him"shut his face, " and emphasised the command by a twist at hiscoat-collar. At the same time two of the huskiest mine-guards, who hadbeen waiting at the dining-room door, took him, one by each arm, andassisted his progress. 

They went down the street and past Jeff Cotton's office, not stoppingthis time. Their destination was the railroad-station, and when Hal gotthere, he saw a train standing. The three men marched him to it, notreleasing him till they had jammed him down into a seat. 

"Now, young fellow, " said Cotton, "we'll see who's running this camp!"

By this time Hal had regained a part of his self-possession. "Do I needa ticket?" he asked. 

"I'll see to that, " said the marshal. 

"And do I get my things?"

"You save some questions for your college professors, " snapped themarshal. 

So Hal waited; and a minute or two later a man arrived on the run withhis scanty belongings, rolled into a bundle and tied with a piece oftwine. Hal noted that this man was big and ugly, and was addressed bythe camp-marshal as "Pete. "

The conductor shouted, "All aboard!" And at the same time Jeff Cottonleaned over towards Hal and spoke in a menacing whisper: "Take this fromme, young fellow; don't stop in Pedro, move on in a hurry, or somethingwill happen to you on a dark night. "

After which he strode down the aisle, and jumped off the moving train. But Hal noticed that Pete Hanun, the breaker of teeth, stayed on the cara few seats behind him. 

BOOK THREE

THE HENCHMEN OF KING COAL

SECTION 1. 

It was Hal's intention to get to Western City as quickly as possible tocall upon the newspaper editors. But first he must have money to travel, and the best way he could think of to get it was to find John Edstrom. He left the train, followed by Pete Hanun; after some inquiry, he cameupon the undertaker who had buried Edstrom's wife, and who told himwhere the old Swede was staying, in the home of a labouring-man nearby. 

Edstrom greeted him with eager questions: Who had been killed? What wasthe situation? Hal told in brief sentences what had happened. When hementioned his need of money, Edstrom answered that he had a little, andwould lend it, but it was not enough for a ticket to Western City. Halasked about the twenty-five dollars which Mary Burke had sent byregistered mail; the old man had heard nothing about it, he had not beento the post-office. "Let's go now!" said Hal, at once; but as they werestarting downstairs, a fresh difficulty occurred to him. Pete Hanun wason the street outside, and it was likely that he had heard about thismoney from Jeff Cotton; he might hold Edstrom up and take it away. 

"Let me suggest something, " put in the old man. "Come and see my friendEd MacKellar. He may be able to give us some advice--even to think ofsome way to get the mine open. " Edstrom explained that MacKellar, an oldScotchman, had been a miner, but was now crippled, and held some pettyoffice in Pedro. He was a persistent opponent of "Alf" Raymond'smachine, and they had almost killed him on one occasion. His home wasnot far away, and it would take little time to consult him. 

"All right, " said Hal, and they set out at once. Pete Hanun followedthem, not more than a dozen yards behind, but did not interfere, andthey turned in at the gate of a little cottage. A woman opened the doorfor them, and asked them into the dining-room where MacKellar wassitting--a grey-haired old man, twisted up with rheumatism and obligedto go about on crutches. 

Hal told his story. As the Scotchman had been brought up in the mines, it was not necessary to go into details about the situation. When Haltold his idea of appealing to the newspapers, the other responded atonce, "You won't have to go to Western City. There's a man right herewho'll do the business for you; Keating, of the _Gazette_. "

"The Western City _Gazette?_" exclaimed Hal. He knew this paper; anevening journal selling for a cent, and read by working-men. Persons ofculture who referred to it disposed of it with the adjective "yellow. "

"I know, " said MacKellar, noting Hal's tone. "But it's the only paperthat will publish your story anyway. "

"Where is this Keating?"

"He's been up at the mine. It's too bad you didn't meet him. "

"Can we get hold of him now?"

"He might be in Pedro. Try the American Hotel. "

Hal went to the telephone, and in a minute was hearing for the firsttime the cheery voice of his friend and lieutenant-to-be, "Billy"Keating. In a couple of minutes more the owner of the voice was atMacKellar's door, wiping the perspiration from his half-bald forehead. He was round-faced, like a full moon, and as jolly as Falstaff; when yougot to know him better, you discovered that he was loyal as aNewfoundland dog. For all his bulk, Keating was a newspaper man, everyinch of him "on the job. "

He started to question the young miner as soon as he was introduced, andit quickly became clear to Hal that here was the man he was looking for. Keating knew exactly what questions to ask, and had the whole story in afew minutes. "By thunder!" he cried. "My last edition!" And he pulledout his watch, and sprang to the telephone. "Long distance, " he called;then, "I want the city editor of the Western City _Gazette_. And, operator, please see if you can't rush it through. It's very urgent, andlast time I had to wait nearly half an hour. "

He turned back to Hal, and proceeded to ask more questions, at the sametime pulling a bunch of copy-paper from his pocket and making notes. Hegot all Hal's statements about the lack of sprinkling, the absence ofescape-ways, the delay in starting the fan, the concealing of the numberof men in the mine. "I knew things were crooked up there!" he exclaimed. "But I couldn't get a lead! They kept a man with me every minute of thetime. You know a fellow named Predovich?"

"I do, " said Hal. "The company store-clerk; he once went through mypockets. "

Keating made a face of disgust. "Well, he was my chaperon. Imaginetrying to get the miners to talk to you with that sneak at your heels! Isaid to the superintendent, 'I don't need anybody to escort me aroundyour place. ' And he looked at me with a nasty little smile. 'We wouldn'twant anything to happen to you while you're in this camp, Mr. Keating. ''You don't consider it necessary to protect the lives of the otherreporters, ' I said. 'No, ' said he; 'but the _Gazette_ has made a greatmany enemies, you know. ' 'Drop your fooling, Mr. Cartwright, ' I said. 'You propose to have me shadowed while I'm working on this assignment?''You can put it that way, ' he answered, 'if you think it'll please thereaders of the _Gazette_. '"

"Too bad we didn't meet!" said Hal. "Or if you'd run into any of ourcheck-weighman crowd!"

"Oh! You know about that check-weighman business!" exclaimed thereporter. "I got a hint of it--that's how I happened to be down hereto-day. I heard there was a man named Edstrom, who'd been shut out formaking trouble; and I thought if I could find him, I might get a lead. "

Hal and MacKellar looked at the old Swede, and the three of them beganto laugh. "Here's your man!" said MacKellar. 

"And here's your check-weighman!" added Edstrom, pointing to Hal. 

Instantly the reporter was on his job again; he began to fire anotherseries of questions. He would use that check-weighman story as a"follow-up" for the next day, to keep the subject of North Valley alive. The story had a direct bearing on the disaster, because it showed whatthe North Valley bosses were doing when they should have been lookingafter the safety of their mine. "I'll write it out this afternoon andsend it by mail, " said Keating; he added, with a smile, "That's oneadvantage of handling news the other papers won't touch--you don't haveto worry about losing your 'scoops'!"

SECTION 2. 

Keating went to the telephone again, to worry "long distance"; then, grumbling about his last edition, he came back to ask more questionsabout Hal's experiences. Before long he drew out the story of the youngman's first effort in the publicity game; at which he sank back in hischair, and laughed until he shook, as the nursery-rhyme describes it, "like a bowlful of jelly. "

"Graham!" he exclaimed. "Fancy, MacKellar, he took that story toGraham!"

The Scotchman seemed to find it equally funny; together they explainedthat Graham was the political reporter of the _Eagle_, the paper inPedro which was owned by the Sheriff-emperor. One might call him AlfRaymond's journalistic jackal; there was no job too dirty for him. 

"But, " cried Hal, "he told me he was correspondent for the Western pressassociation!"

"He's that, too, " replied Billy. 

"But does the press association employ spies for the 'G. F. C. '?"

The reporter answered, drily, "When you understand the news game better, you'll realise that the one thing the press association cares about in acorrespondent is that he should have respect for property. If respectfor property is the back-bone of his being, he can learn what news is, and the right way to handle it. "

Keating turned to the Scotchman. "Do you happen to have a typewriter inthe house, Mr. MacKellar?"

"An old one, " said the other--"lame, like myself. "

"I'll make out with it. I'd ask this young man over to my hotel, but Ithink he'd better keep off the streets as much as possible. "

"You're right. If you take my advice, you'll take the typewriterupstairs, where there's no chance of a shot through the window. "

"Great heavens!" exclaimed Hal. "Is this America, or mediaeval Italy?"

"It's the Empire of Raymond, " replied MacKellar. "They shot my friendTom Burton dead while he stood on the steps of his home. He was opposingthe machine, and had evidence about ballot-frauds he was going to putbefore the Grand Jury. "

While Keating continued to fret with "long distance, " the old Scotchmanwent on trying to impress upon Hal the danger of his position. Quiterecently an organiser of the miners' union had been beaten up in broadday-light and left insensible on the sidewalk; MacKellar had watched thetrial and acquittal of the two thugs who had committed this crime--theforeman of the jury being a saloon-keeper one of Raymond's heelers, andthe other jurymen being Mexicans, unable to comprehend a word of thecourt proceedings. 

"Exactly such a jury as Jeff Cotton promised me!" remarked Hal, with afeeble attempt at a smile. 

"Yes, " answered the other; "and don't make any mistake about it, if theywant to put you away, they can do it. They run the whole machine here. Iknow how it is, for I had a political job myself, until they found theycouldn't use me. "

The old Scotchman went on to explain that he had been elected justice ofpeace, and had tried to break up the business of policemen taking moneyfrom the women of the town; he had been forced to resign, and hisenemies had made his life a torment. Recently he had been candidate fordistrict judge on the Progressive ticket, and told of his efforts tocarry on a campaign in the coal-camps--how his circulars had beenconfiscated, his posters torn down, his supporters "kangarooed. " It wasexactly as Alec Stone, the pit-boss, had explained to Hal. In some ofthe camps the meeting-halls belonged to the company; in others theybelonged to saloon-keepers whose credit depended upon Alf Raymond. Inthe few places where there were halls that could be hired, the machinehad gone to the extreme of sending in rival entertainments, furnishingfree music and free beer in order to keep the crowds away fromMacKellar. 

All this time Billy Keating had been chafing and scolding at "longdistance. " Now at last he managed to get his call, and silence fell inthe room. "Hello, Pringle, that you? This is Keating. Got a big story onthe North Valley disaster. Last edition put to bed yet? Put Jim on thewire. Hello, Jim! Got your book?" And then Billy, evidently talking to astenographer, began to tell the story he had got from Hal. Now and thenhe would stop to repeat or spell a word; once or twice Hal corrected himon details. So, in about a quarter of an hour, they put the job through;and Keating turned to Hal. 

"There you are, son, " said he. "Your story'll be on the street inWestern City in a little over an hour; it'll be down here as soonthereafter as they can get telephone connections. And take my advice, ifyou want to keep a whole skin, you'll be out of Pedro when thathappens!"

SECTION 3. 

When Hal spoke, he did not answer Billy Keating's last remark. He hadbeen listening to a retelling of the North Valley disaster over thetelephone; so he was not thinking about his skin, but about a hundredand seven men and boys buried inside a mine. 

"Mr. Keating, " said he, "are you sure the _Gazette_ will print thatstory?"

"Good Lord!" exclaimed the other. "What am I here for?"

"Well, I've been disappointed once, you know. "

"Yes, but you got into the wrong camp. We're a poor man's paper, andthis is what we live on. "

"There's no chance of its being 'toned down'?"

"Not the slightest, I assure you. "

"There's no chance of Peter Harrigan's suppressing it?"

"Peter Harrigan made his attempts on the _Gazette_ long ago, my boy. "

"Well, " said Hal, "and now tell me this--will it do the work?"

"In what way?"

"I mean--in making them open the mine. "

Keating considered for a moment. "I'm afraid it won't do much. "

Hal looked at him blankly. He had taken it for granted the publicationof the facts would force the company to move. But Keating explained thatthe _Gazette_ read mainly by working-people, and so had comparativelylittle influence. "We're an afternoon paper, " he said; "and when peoplehave been reading lies all morning, it's not easy to make them believethe truth in the afternoon. "

"But won't the story go to other papers--over the country, I mean?"

"Yes, we have a press service; but the papers are all like the_Gazette_--poor man's papers. If there's something very raw, and we keeppounding away for a long time, we can make an impression; at least welimit the amount of news the Western press association can suppress. Butwhen it comes to a small matter like sealing up workingmen in a mine, all we can do is to worry the 'G. F. C. ' a little. "

So Hal was just where he had begun! "I must find some other plan, " heexclaimed. 

"I don't see what you can do, " replied the other. 

There was a pause, while the young miner pondered. "I had thought ofgoing up to Western City and appealing to the editors, " he said, alittle uncertainly. 

"Well, I can tell you about that--you might as well save your car-fare. They wouldn't touch your story. "

"And if I appealed to the Governor?"

"In the first place, he probably wouldn't see you. And if he did, hewouldn't do anything. He's not really the Governor, you know; he's apuppet put up there to fool you. He only moves when Harrigan pulls astring. "

"Of course I knew he was Old Peter's man, " said Hal. "But then"--and heconcluded, somewhat lamely, "What _can_ I do?"

A smile of pity came upon the reporter's face. "I can see this is thefirst time you've been up against 'big business. '" And then he added, "You're young! When you've had more experience, you'll leave theseproblems to older heads!" But Hal failed to get the reporter's sarcasm. He had heard these exact words in such deadly seriousness from hisbrother! Besides, he had just come from scenes of horror. 

"But don't you see, Mr. Keating?" he exclaimed. "It's impossible for meto sit still while those men die?"

"I don't know about your sitting still, " said the other. "All I know isthat all your moving about isn't going to do them any good. "

Hal turned to Edstrom and MacKellar. "Gentlemen, " he said, "listen to mefor a minute. " And there was a note of pleading in his voice--as if hethought they were deliberately refusing to help him! "We've got to dosomething about this. We've _got_ to do something! I'm new at the game, as Mr. Keating says; but you aren't. Put your minds on it, gentlemen, and help me work out a plan!"

There was a long silence. "God knows, " said Edstrom, at last. "I'dsuggest something if I could. "

"And I, too, " said MacKellar. "You're up against a stone-wall, my boy. The government here is simply a department of the 'G. F. C. ' Theofficials are crooks--company servants, all of them. "

"Just a moment now, " said Hal. "Let's consider. Suppose we had a realgovernment--what steps would we take? We'd carry such a case to theDistrict Attorney, wouldn't we?"

"Yes, no doubt of it, " said MacKellar. 

"You mentioned him before, " said Hal. "He threatened to prosecute somemine-superintendents for ballot-frauds, you said. "

"That was while he was running for election, " said MacKellar. 

"Oh! I remember what Jeff Cotton said--that he was friendly to theminers in his speeches, and to the companies in his acts. "

"That's the man, " said the other, drily. 

"Well, " argued Hal, "oughtn't I go to him, to give him a chance, atleast? You can't tell, he might have a heart inside him. "

"It isn't a heart he needs, " replied MacKellar; "it's a back-bone. "

"But surely I ought to put it up to him! If he won't do anything, atleast I'll put him on record, and it'll make another story for you, won't it, Mr. Keating?"

"Yes, that's true, " admitted the reporter. "What would you ask him todo?"

"Why, to lay the matter before the Grand Jury; to bring indictmentsagainst the North Valley bosses. "

"But that would take a long time; it wouldn't save the men in the mine. "

"What might save them would be the threat of it. " MacKellar put in. "Idon't think any threat of Dick Barker's would count for that much. Thebosses know they could stop him. "

"Well, isn't there somebody else? Shouldn't I try the courts?"

"What courts?"

"I don't know. You tell me. "

"Well, " said the Scotchman, "to begin at the bottom, there's a justiceof the peace. "

"Who's he?"

"Jim Anderson, a horse-doctor. He's like any other J. P. You everknew--he lives on petty graft. "

"Is there a higher court?"

"Yes, the district court; Judge Denton. He's the law-partner ofVagleman, counsel for the 'G. F. C. ' How far would you expect to getwith him?"

"I suppose I'm clutching at straws, " said Hal. "But they say that's whata drowning man does. Anyway, I'm going to see these people, and maybeout of the lot of them I can find one who'll act. It can't do any harm!"

The three men thought of some harm it might do; they tried to make Halconsider the danger of being slugged Or shot. "They'll do it!" exclaimedMacKellar. "And no trouble for them--they'll prove you were stabbed by adrunken Dago, quarrelling over some woman. "

But Hal had got his head set; he believed he could put this job throughbefore his enemies had time to lay any plans. Nor would he let any ofhis friends accompany him; he had something more important for bothEdstrom and Keating to do--and as for MacKellar, he could not get aboutrapidly enough. Hal bade Edstrom go to the post-office and get theregistered letter, and proceed at once to change the bills. It was hisplan to make out affidavits, and if the officials here would not act, totake the affidavits to the Governor. And for this he would need money. Meantime, he said, let Billy Keating write out the check-weighman story, and in a couple of hours meet him at the American Hotel, to get copiesof the affidavits for the _Gazette_. 

Hal was still wearing the miner's clothes he had worn on the night ofhis arrest in Edstrom's cabin. But he declined MacKellar's offer to lendhim a business-suit; the old Scotchman's clothes would not fit him, heknew, and it would be better to make his appeal as a real miner than asa misfit gentleman. 

These matters being settled, Hal went out upon the street, where PeteHanun, the breaker of teeth, fell in behind him. The young miner at oncebroke into a run, and the other followed suit, and so the two of themsped down the street, to the wonder of people on the way. As Hal had hadpractice as a sprinter, no doubt Pete was glad that the DistrictAttorney's office was not far away!

SECTION 4. 

Mr. Richard Parker was busy, said the clerk in toe outer office; forwhich Hal was not sorry, as it gave him a chance to get his breath. Seeing a young man flushed and panting, the clerk stared with curiosity;but Hal offered no explanation, and the breaker of teeth waited on thestreet outside. 

Mr. Parker received his caller in a couple of minutes. He was a well-fedgentleman with generous neck and chin, freshly shaved and rubbed withtalcum powder. His clothing was handsome, his linen immaculate; one gotthe impression of a person who "did himself well. " There were papers onhis desk, and he looked preoccupied. 

"Well?" said he, with a swift glance at the young miner. 

"I understand that I am speaking to the District Attorney of PedroCounty?"

"That's right. "

"Mr. Parker, have you given any attention to the circumstances of theNorth Valley disaster?"

"No, " said Mr. Parker. "Why?"

"I have just come from North Valley, and I can give you informationwhich may be of interest to you. There are a hundred and seven peopleentombed in the mine, and the company officials have sealed it, and aresacrificing those lives. "

The other put down the correspondence, and made an examination of hiscaller from under his heavy eyelids. "How do you know this?"

"I left there only a few hours ago. The facts are known to all theworkers in the camp. "

"You are speaking from what you heard?"

"I am speaking from what I know at first hand. I saw the disaster, I sawthe pit-mouth boarded over and covered with canvas. I know a man who wasdriven out of camp this morning for complaining about the delay instarting the fan. It has been over three days since the explosion, andstill nothing has been done. "

Mr. Parker proceeded to fire a series of questions, in the sharp, suspicious manner customary to prosecuting officials. But Hal did notmind that; it was the man's business to make sure. 

Presently he demanded to know how he could get corroboration of Hal'sstatements. 

"You'll have to go up there, " was the reply. 

"You say the facts are known to the men. Give me the names of some ofthem. "

"I have no authority to give their names, Mr. Parker. "

"What authority do you need? They will tell me, won't they?"

"They may, and they may not. One man has already lost his job; not everyman cares to lose his job. "

"You expect me to go up there on your bare say-so?"

"I offer you more than my say-so. I offer an affidavit. "

"But what do I know about you?"

"You know that I worked in North Valley--or you can verify the fact byusing the telephone. My name is Joe Smith, and I was a miner's helper inNumber Two. "

But that was not sufficient, said Mr. Parker; his time was valuable, andbefore he took a trip to North Valley he must have the names ofwitnesses who would corroborate these statements. 

"I offer you an affidavit!" exclaimed Hal. "I say that I have knowledgethat a crime is being committed--that a hundred and seven human livesare being sacrificed. You don't consider that a sufficient reason foreven making inquiry?"

The District Attorney answered again that he desired to do his duty, hedesired to protect the workers in their rights; but he could not affordto go off on a "wild goose chase, " he must have the names of witnesses. And Hal found himself wondering. Was the man merely taking the firstpretext for doing nothing? Or could it be that an official of the statewould go as far as to help the company by listing the names of"trouble-makers"?

In spite of his distrust, Hal was resolved to give the man every chancehe could. He went over the whole story of the disaster. He took Mr. Parker up to the camp, showed him the agonised women and terrifiedchildren crowding about the pit-mouth, driven back with clubs andrevolvers. He named family after family, widows and mothers and orphans. He told of the miners clamouring for a chance to risk their lives tosave their fellows. He let his own feelings sweep him along; he pleadedwith fervour for his suffering friends. 

"Young man, " said the other, breaking in upon his eloquence, "how longhave you been working in North Valley?"

"About ten weeks. "

"How long have you been working in coal-mines?"

"That was my first experience. "

"And you think that in ten weeks you have learned enough to entitle youto bring a charge of 'murder' against men who have spent their lives inlearning the business of mining?"

"As I have told you, " exclaimed Hal, "it's not merely my opinion; it'sthe opinion of the oldest and most experienced of the miners. I tell youno effort whatever is being made to save those men! The bosses carenothing about their men! One of them, Alec Stone, was heard by a crowdof people to say, 'Damn the men! Save the mules!'"

"Everybody up there is excited, " declared the other. "Nobody can thinkstraight at present--you can't think straight yourself. If the mine's onfire, and if the fire is spreading to such an extent that it can't beput out--"

"But, Mr. Parker, how can you say that it's spreading to such anextent?"

"Well, how can you say that it isn't?"

There was a pause. "I understand there's a deputy mine-inspector upthere, " said the District Attorney, suddenly. "What's his name?"

"Carmichael, " said Hal. 

"Well, and what does _he_ say about it?"

"It was for appealing to him that the miner, Huszar, was turned out ofcamp. "

"Well, " said Mr. Parker--and there came a note into his voice by whichHal knew that he had found the excuse he sought--"Well, it'sCarmichael's business, and I have no right to butt in on it. If he comesto me and asks for indictments, I'll act--but not otherwise. That's allI have to say about it. "

And Hal rose. "Very well, Mr. Parker, " said he. "I have put the factsbefore you. I was told you wouldn't do anything, but I wanted to giveyou a chance. Now I'm going to ask the Governor for your removal!" Andwith these words the young miner strode out of the office. 

SECTION 5. 

Hal went down the street to the American Hotel, where there was a publicstenographer. When this young woman discovered the nature of thematerial he proposed to dictate, her fingers trembled visibly; but shedid not refuse the task, and Hal proceeded to set forth thecircumstances of the sealing of the pit-mouth of Number One Mine atNorth Valley, and to pray for warrants for the arrest of Enos Cartwrightand Alec Stone. Then he gave an account of how he had been selected ascheck-weighman and been refused access to the scales; and with all thelegal phraseology he could rake up, he prayed for the arrest of EnosCartwright and James Peters, superintendent and tipple-boss at NorthValley, for these offences. In another affidavit he narrated how JeffCotton, camp-marshal, had seized him at night, mistreated him, and shuthim in prison for thirty-six hours without warrant or charge; also howCotton, Pete Hanun, and two other parties by name unknown, had illegallydriven him from the town of North Valley, threatening him with violence;for which he prayed the arrest of Jeff Cotton, Pete Hanun, and the twoparties unknown. 

Before this task was finished, Billy Keating came in, bringing thetwenty-five dollars which Edstrom had got from the post-office. Theyfound a notary public, before whom Hal made oath to each document; andwhen these had been duly inscribed and stamped with the seal of thestate, he gave carbon copies to Keating, who hurried off to catch amail-train which was just due. Billy would not trust such things to thelocal post-office; for Pedro was the hell of a town, he declared. Asthey went out on the street again they noticed that their body-guard hadbeen increased by another husky-looking personage, who made no attemptto conceal what he was doing. 

Hal went around the corner to an office bearing the legend, "J. W. Anderson, Justice of the Peace. "

Jim Anderson, the horse-doctor, sat at his desk within. He had evidentlychewed tobacco before he assumed the ermine, and his reddish-colouredmoustache still showed the stains. Hal observed such details, trying toweigh his chances of success. He presented the affidavit describing histreatment in North Valley, and sat waiting while His Honour read itthrough with painful slowness. 

"Well, " said the man, at last, "what do you want?"

"I want a warrant for Jeff Cotton's arrest. "

The other studied him for a minute. "No, young fellow, " said he. "Youcan't get no such warrant here. "

"Why not?"

"Because Cotton's a deputy-sheriff; he had a right to arrest you. "

"To arrest me without a warrant?"

"How do you know he didn't have a warrant?"

"He admitted to me that he didn't. "

"Well, whether he had a warrant or not, it was his business to keeporder in the camp. "

"You mean he can do anything he pleases in the camp?"

"What I mean is, it ain't my business to interfere. Why didn't you seeSi Adams, up to the camp?"

"They didn't give me any chance to see him. "

"Well, " replied the other, "there's nothing I can do for you. You cansee that for yourself. What kind of discipline could they keep in themcamps if any fellow that had a kick could come down here and have themarshal arrested?"

"Then a camp-marshal can act without regard to the law?"

"I didn't say that. "

"Suppose he had committed murder--would you give a warrant for that?"

"Yes, of course, if it was murder. "

"And if you knew that he was in the act of committing murder in acoal-camp--would you try to stop him?"

"Yes, of course. "

"Then here's another affidavit, " said Hal; and he produced the one aboutthe sealing of the mine. There was silence while Justice Anderson readit through. 

But again he shook his head. "No, you can't get no such warrants here. "

"Why not?"

"Because it ain't my business to run a coal-mine. I don't understand it, and I'd make a fool of myself if I tried to tell them people how to runtheir business. "

Hal argued with him. Could company officials in charge of a coal-minecommit any sort of outrage upon their employés, and call it runningtheir business? Their control of the mine in such an emergency as thismeant the power of life and death over a hundred and seven men and boys;could it be that the law had nothing to say in such a situation? But Mr. Anderson only shook his head; it was not his business to interfere. Halmight go up to the court-house and see Judge Denton about it. So Halgathered up his affidavits and went out to the street again--where therewere now three husky-looking personages waiting to escort him. 

SECTION 6. 

The district court was in session and Hal sat for a while in thecourt-room, watching Judge Denton. Here was another prosperous andwell-fed appearing gentleman, with a rubicund visage shining over thetop of his black silk robe. The young miner found himself regarding boththe robe and the visage with suspicion. Could it be that Hal wasbecoming cynical, and losing his faith in his fellow man? What hethought of, in connection with the Judge's appearance, was that therewas a living to be made sitting on the bench, while one's partnerappeared before the bench as coal-company counsel!

In an interval of the proceedings, Hal spoke to the clerk, and was toldthat he might see the judge at four-thirty; but a few minutes later PeteHanun came in and whispered to this clerk. The clerk looked at Hal, thenhe went up and whispered to the Judge. At four-thirty, when the courtwas declared adjourned, the Judge rose and disappeared into his privateoffice; and when Hal applied to the clerk, the latter brought out themessage that Judge Denton was too busy to see him. 

But Hal was not to be disposed of in that easy fashion. There was a sidedoor to the court-room, with a corridor beyond it, and while he stoodarguing with the clerk he saw the rubicund visage of the Judge flitpast. 

He darted in pursuit. He did not shout or make a disturbance; but whenhe was close behind his victim, he said, quietly, "Judge Denton, Iappeal to you for justice!"

The Judge turned and looked at him, his countenance showing annoyance. "What do you want?"

It was a ticklish moment, for Pete Hanun was at Hal's heels, and itwould have needed no more than a nod from the Judge to cause him tocollar Hal. But the Judge, taken by surprise, permitted himself toparley with the young miner; and the detective hesitated, and finallyfell back a step or two. 

Hal repeated his appeal. "Your Honour, there are a hundred and seven menand boys now dying up at the North Valley mine. They are being murdered, and I am trying to save their lives!"

"Young man, " said the Judge, "I have an urgent engagement down thestreet. "

"Very well, " replied Hal, "I will walk with you and tell you as you go. "Nor did he give "His Honour" a chance to say whether this arrangementwas pleasing to him; he set out by his side, with Pete Hanun and theother two men some ten yards in the rear. 

Hal told the story as he had told it to Mr. Richard Parker; and hereceived the same response. Such matters were not easy to decide about;they were hardly a Judge's business. There was a state official on theground, and it was for him to decide if there was violation of law. 

Hal repeated his statement that a man who made a complaint to thisofficial had been thrown out of camp. "And I was thrown out also, yourHonour. "

"What for?"

"Nobody told me what for. "

"Tut, tut, young man! They don't throw men out without telling them thereason!"

"But they _do_, your Honour! Shortly before that they locked me up injail, and held me for thirty-six hours without the slightest show ofauthority. "

"You must have been doing something!"

"What I had done was to be chosen by a committee of miners to act astheir check-weighman. "

"Their check-weighman?"

"Yes, your Honour. I am informed there's a law providing that when themen demand a check-weighman, and offer to pay for him, the company mustpermit him to inspect the weights. Is that correct?"

"It is, I believe. "

"And there's a penalty for refusing?"

"The law always carries a penalty, young man. "

"They tell me that law has been on the statute-books for fifteen orsixteen years, and that the penalty is from twenty-five to five hundreddollars fine. It's a case about which there can be no dispute, yourHonour--the miners notified the superintendent that they desired myservices, and when I presented myself at the tipple, I was refusedaccess to the scales; then I was seized and shut up in jail, and finallyturned out of the camp. I have made affidavit to these facts, and Ithink I have the right to ask for warrants for the guilty men. "

"Can you produce witnesses to your statements?"

"I can, your Honour. One of the committee of miners, John Edstrom, isnow in Pedro, having been kept out of his home, which he had rented andpaid for. The other, Mike Sikoria, was also thrown out of camp. Thereare many others at North Valley who know all about it. "

There was a pause. Judge Denton for the first time took a good look atthe young miner at his side; and then he drew his brows together insolemn thought, and his voice became deep and impressive. "I shall takethis matter under advisement. What is your name, and where do you live?"

"Joe Smith, your Honour. I'm staying at Edward MacKellar's, but I don'tknow how long I'll be able to stay there. There are company thugswatching the place all the time. "

"That's wild talk!" said the Judge, impatiently. 

"As it happens, " said Hal, "we are being followed by three of them atthis moment--one of them the same Pete Hanun who helped to drive me outof North Valley. If you will turn your head you will see them behindus. "

But the portly Judge did not turn his head. 

"I have been informed, " Hal continued, "that I am taking my life in myhands by my present course of action. I believe I'm entitled to ask forprotection. "

"What do you want me to do?"

"To begin with, I'd like you to cause the arrest of the men who areshadowing me. "

"It's not my business to cause such arrests. You should apply to apoliceman. "

"I don't see any policeman. Will you tell me where to find one?"

His Honour was growing weary of such persistence. "Young man, what's thematter with you is that you've been reading dime novels, and they've goton your nerves!"

"But the men are right behind me, your Honour! Look at them!"

"I've told you it's not my business, young man!"

"But, your Honour, before I can find a policeman I may be dead!"

The other appeared to be untroubled by this possibility. 

"And, your Honour, while you are taking these matters under advisement, the men in the mine will be dead!"

Again there was no reply. 

"I have some affidavits here, " said Hal. "Do you wish them?"

"You can give them to me if you want to, " said the other. 

"You don't ask me for them?"

"I haven't yet. "

"Then just one more question--if you will pardon me, your Honour. Canyou tell me where I can find an honest lawyer in this town--a man whomight be willing to take a case against the interests of the GeneralFuel Company?"

There was a silence--a long, long silence. Judge Denton, of the firm ofDenton and Vagleman, stared straight in front of him as he walked. Whatever complicated processes might have been going on inside his mind, his judicial features did not reveal them. "No, young man, " he said atlast, "it's not my business to give you information about lawyers. " Andwith that the judge turned on his heel and went into the Elks' Club. 

SECTION 7. 

Hal stood and watched the portly figure until it disappeared; then heturned back and passed the three detectives, who stopped. He stared atthem, but made no sign, nor did they. Some twenty feet behind him, theyfell in and followed as before. 

Judge Denton had suggested consulting a policeman; and suddenly Halnoticed that he was passing the City Hall, and it occurred to him thatthis matter of his being shadowed might properly be brought to theattention of the mayor of Pedro. He wondered what the chief magistrateof such a "hell of a town" might be like; after due inquiry, he foundhimself in the office of Mr. Ezra Perkins, a mild-mannered littlegentleman who had been in the undertaking-business, before he became afigure-head for the so-called "Democratic" machine. 

He sat pulling nervously at a neatly trimmed brown beard, trying towriggle out of the dilemma into which Hal put him. Yes, it mightpossibly be that a young miner was being followed on the streets of thetown; but whether or not this was against the law depended on thecircumstances. If he had made a disturbance in North Valley, and therewas reason to believe that he might be intending trouble, doubtless thecompany was keeping track of him. But Pedro was a law-abiding place, andhe would be protected in his rights so long as he behaved himself. 

Hal replied by citing what MacKellar had told him about men beingslugged on the streets in broad day-light. To this Mr. Perkins answeredthat there was uncertainty about the circumstances of these cases;anyhow, they had happened before he became mayor. His was a reformadministration, and he had given strict orders to the Chief of Policethat there were to be no more incidents of the sort. 

"Will you go with me to the Chief of Police and give him orders now?"demanded Hal. 

"I do not consider it necessary, " said Mr. Perkins. 

He was about to go home, it seemed. He was a pitiful little rodent, andit was a shame to torment him; but Hal stuck to him for ten or twentyminutes longer, arguing and insisting--until finally the little rodentbolted for the door, and made his escape in an automobile. "You can goto the Chief of Police yourself, " were his last words, as he started themachine; and Hal decided to follow the suggestion. He had no hope left, but he was possessed by a kind of dogged rage. He _would_ not let go!

Upon inquiry of a passer-by, he learned that police headquarters was inthis same building, the entrance being just round the corner. He wentin, and found a man in uniform writing at a desk, who stated that theChief had "stepped down the street. " Hal sat down to wait, by a windowthrough which he could look out upon the three gunmen loitering acrossthe way. 

The man at the desk wrote on, but now and then he eyed the young minerwith that hostility which American policemen cultivate toward the lowerclasses. To Hal this was a new phenomenon, and he found himself suddenlywishing that he had put on MacKellar's clothes. Perhaps a policemanwould not have noticed the misfit!

The Chief came in. His blue uniform concealed a burly figure, and hismoustache revealed the fact that his errand down the street had had todo with beer. "Well, young fellow?" said he, fixing his gaze upon Hal. 

Hal explained his errand. 

"What do you want me to do?" asked the Chief, in a decidedly hostilevoice. 

"I want you to make those men stop following me. "

"How can I make them stop?"

"You can lock them up, if necessary. I can point them out to you, ifyou'll step to the window. "

But the other made no move. "I reckon if they're follerin' you, they'vegot some reason for it. Have you been makin' trouble in the camps?" Heasked this question with sudden force, as if it had occurred to him thatit might be his duty to lock up Hal. 

"No, " said Hal, speaking as bravely as he could--"no indeed, I haven'tbeen making trouble. I've only been demanding my rights. "

"How do I know what you been doin'?"

The young miner was willing to explain, but the other cut him short. "You behave yourself while you're in this town, young feller, d'you see?If you do, nobody'll bother you. "

"But, " said Hal, "they've already threatened to bother me. "

"What did they say?"

"They said something might happen to me on a dark night. "

"Well, so it might--you might fall down and hit your nose. "

The Chief was pleased with this wit, but only for a moment. "Understand, young feller, we'll give you your rights in this town, but we got nolove for agitators, and we don't pretend to have. See?"

"You call a man an agitator when he demands his legal rights?"

"I ain't got time to argue with you, young feller. It's no easy matterkeepin' order in coal-camps, and I ain't going to meddle in thebusiness. I reckon the company detectives has got as good a right inthis town as you. "

There was a pause. Hal saw that there was nothing to be gained byfurther discussion with the Chief. It was his first glimpse of theAmerican policeman as he appears to the labouring man in revolt, and hefound it an illuminating experience. There was dynamite in his heart ashe turned and went out to the street; nor was the amount of theexplosive diminished by the mocking grins which he noted upon the facesof Pete Hanun and the other two husky-looking personages. 

SECTION 8. 

Hal judged that he had now exhausted his legal resources in Pedro; theChief of Police had not suggested any one else he might call upon, sothere seemed nothing he could do but go back to MacKellar's and awaitthe hour of the night train to Western City. He started to give hisguardians another run, by way of working off at least a part of his owntemper; but he found that they had anticipated this difficulty. Anautomobile came up and the three of them stepped in. Not to be outdone, Hal engaged a hack, and so the expedition returned in pomp toMacKellar's. 

Hal found the old cripple in a state of perturbation. All that afternoonhis telephone had been ringing; one person after another had warnedhim--some pleading with him, some abusing him. It was evident that amongthem were people who had a hold on the old man; but he was undaunted, and would not hear of Hal's going to stay at the hotel until train-time. 

Then Keating returned, with an exciting tale to tell. Schulman, generalmanager of the "G. F. C. , " had been sending out messengers to hunt forhim, and finally had got him in his office, arguing and pleading, cajoling and denouncing him by turns. He had got Cartwright on thetelephone, and the North Valley superintendent had laboured to convinceKeating that he had done the company a wrong. Cartwright had told astory about Hal's efforts to hold up the company for money. "Incidentally, " said Keating, "he added the charge that you had seduceda girl in his camp. "

Hal stared at his friend. "Seduced a girl!" he exclaimed. 

"That's what he said; a red-headed Irish girl. "

"Well, damn his soul!"

There followed a silence, broken by a laugh from Billy. "Don't glare atme like that. _I_ didn't say it!"

But Hal continued to glare, nevertheless. "The dirty little skunk!"

"Take it easy, sonny, " said the fat man, soothingly. "It's quite theusual thing, to drag in a woman. It's so easy--for of course therealways _is_ a woman. There's one in this case, I suppose?"

"There's a perfectly decent girl. "

"But you've been friendly with her? You've been walking around wherepeople can see you?"

"Yes. "

"So you see, they've got you. There's nothing you can do about a thingof that sort. "

"You wait and see!" Hal burst out. 

The other gazed curiously at the angry young miner. "What'll you do?Beat him up some night?"

But the young miner did not answer. "You say he described the girl?"

"He was kind enough to say she was a red-headed beauty, and with no oneto protect her but a drunken father. I could understand that must havemade it pretty hard for her, in one of these coal-camps. " There was apause. "But see here, " said the reporter, "you'll only do the girl harmby making a row. Nobody believes that women in coal-camps have anyvirtue. God knows, I don't see how they do have, considering the sort ofmen who run the camps, and the power they have. "

"Mr. Keating, " said Hal, "did _you_ believe what Cartwright told you?"

Keating had started to light a cigar. He stopped in the middle, and hiseyes met Hal's. "My dear boy, " said he, "I didn't consider it mybusiness to have an opinion. "

"But what did you say to Cartwright?"

"Ah! That's another matter. I said that I'd been a newspaper man for agood many years, and I knew his game. "

"Thank you for that, " said Hal. "You may be interested to know thereisn't any truth in the story. "

"Glad to hear it, " said the other. "I believe you. "

"Also you may be interested to know that I shan't drop the matter untilI've made Cartwright take it back. "

"Well, you're an enterprising cuss!" laughed the reporter. "Haven't yougot enough on your hands, with all the men you're going to get out ofthe mine?"

SECTION 9. 

Billy Keating went out again, saying that he knew a man who might bewilling to talk to him on the quiet, and give him some idea what wasgoing to happen to Hal. Meantime Hal and Edstrom sat down to dinner withMacKellar. The family were afraid to use the dining-room of their home, but spread a little table in the upstairs hall. The distress of mind ofMacKellar's wife and daughter was apparent, and this brought home to Halthe terror of life in this coal-country. Here were American women, in anAmerican home, a home with evidences of refinement and culture; yet theyfelt and acted as if they were Russian conspirators, in terror ofSiberia and the knout!

The reporter was gone a couple of hours; when he came back, he broughtnews. "You can prepare for trouble, young fellow. "

"Why so?"

"Jeff Cotton's in town. "

"How do you know?"

"I saw him in an automobile. If he left North Valley at this time, itwas for something serious, you may be sure. "

"What does he mean to do?"

"There's no telling. He may have you slugged; he may have you run out oftown and dumped out in the desert; he may just have you arrested. "

Hal considered for a moment. "For slander?"

"Or for vagrancy; or on suspicion of having robbed a bank in Texas, ormurdered your great-grandmother in Tasmania. The point is, he'll keepyou locked up till this trouble has blown over. "

"Well, " said Hal, "I don't want to be locked up. I want to go up toWestern City. I'm waiting for the train. "

"You may have to wait till morning, " replied Keating. "There's beentrouble on the railroad--a freight-car broke down and ripped up thetrack; it'll be some time before it's clear. "

They discussed this new problem back and forth. MacKellar wanted to getin half a dozen friends and keep guard over Hal during the night; andHal had about agreed to this idea, when the discussion was given a newturn by a chance remark of Keating's. "Somebody else is tied up by therailroad accident. The Coal King's son!"

"The Coal King's son?" echoed Hal. 

"Young Percy Harrigan. He's got a private car here--or rather a wholetrain. Think of it--dining-car, drawing-room car, two whole cars withsleeping apartments! Wouldn't you like to be a son of the Coal King?"

"Has he come on account of the mine-disaster?"

"Mine-disaster?" echoed Keating. "I doubt if he's heard of it. They'vebeen on a trip to the Grand Canyon, I was told; there's a baggage-carwith four automobiles. "

"Is Old Peter with them?"

"No, he's in New York. Percy's the host. He's got one of his automobilesout, and was up in town--two other fellows and some girls. "

"Who's in his party?"

"I couldn't find out. You can see, it might be a story for the_Gazette_--the Coal King's son, coming by chance at the moment when ahundred and seven of his serfs are perishing in the mine! If I couldonly have got him to say a word about the disaster! If I could even havegot him to say he didn't know about it!"

"Did you try?"

"What am I a reporter for?"

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened; except that he froze me stiff. "

"Where was this?"

"On the street. They stopped at a drug-store, and I stepped up. 'Is thisMr. Percy Harrigan?' He was looking into the store, over my head. 'I'm areporter, ' I said, 'and I'd like to ask you about the accident up atNorth Valley. ' 'Excuse me, ' he said, in a tone--gee, it makes your bloodcold to think of it! 'Just a word, ' I pleaded. 'I don't giveinterviews, ' he answered; and that was all--he continued looking over myhead, and everybody else staring in front of them. They had turned toice at my first word. If ever I felt like a frozen worm!"

There was a pause. 

"Ain't it wonderful, " reflected Billy, "how quick you can build up anaristocracy! When you looked at that car, the crowd in it and the airsthey wore, you'd think they'd been running the world since the time ofWilliam the Conqueror. And Old Peter came into this country with apedlar's pack on his shoulders!"

"We're hustlers here, " put in MacKellar. 

"We'll hustle all the way to hell in a generation more, " said thereporter. Then, after a minute, "Say, but there's one girl in that bunchthat was the real thing! She sure did get me! You know all those fluffythings they do themselves up in--soft and fuzzy, makes you think ofspring-time orchards. This one was exactly the colour ofapple-blossoms. "

"You're susceptible to the charms of the ladies?" inquired Hal, mildly. 

"I am, " said the other. "I know it's all fake, but just the same, itmakes my little heart go pit-a-pat. I always want to think they're aslovely as they look. "

Hal's smile became reminiscent, and he quoted:

 "Oh Liza-Ann, come out with me, The moon is a-shinin' in the monkey-puzzle tree!"

Then he stopped, with a laugh. "Don't wear your heart on your sleeve, Mr. Keating. She wouldn't be above taking a peck at it as she passed. "

"At me? A worm of a newspaper reporter?"

"At you, a man!" laughed Hal. "I wouldn't want to accuse the lady ofposing; but a lady has her role in life, and has to keep her hand in. "

There was a pause. The reporter was looking at the young miner withsudden curiosity. "See here, " he remarked, "I've been wondering aboutyou. How do you come to know so much about the psychology of the leisureclass?"

"I used to have money once, " said Hal. "My family's gone down as quicklyas the Harrigans have come up. "

SECTION 10. 

Hal went on to question Keating about the apple-blossom girl. "Maybe Icould guess who she is. What colour was her hair?"

"The colour of molasses taffy when you've pulled it, " said Billy; "butall fluffy and wonderful, with star-dust in it. Her eyes were brown, andher cheeks pink and cream. "

"She had two rows of pearly white teeth, that flashed at you when shesmiled?"

"She didn't smile, unfortunately. "

"Then her brown eyes gazed at you, wide open, full of wonder?"

"Yes, they did--only it was into the drug-store window. "

"Did she wear a white hat of soft straw, with a green and white flowergarden on it, and an olive green veil, and maybe cream white ribbons?"

"By George, I believe you've seen her!" exclaimed the reporter. 

"Maybe, " said Hal. "Or maybe I'm describing the girl on the cover of oneof the current magazines!" He smiled; but then, seeing the other'scuriosity, "Seriously, I think I do know your young lady. If youannounce that Miss Jessie Arthur is a member of the Harrigan party, youwon't be taking a long chance. "

"I can't afford to take any chance at all, " said the reporter. "You meanRobert Arthur's daughter?"

"Heiress-apparent of the banking business of Arthur and Sons, " said Hal. "It happens I know her by sight. "

"How's that?"

"I worked in a grocery-store where she used to come. "

"Whereabouts?"

"Peterson and Company, in Western City. "

"Oho! And you used to sell her candy. "

"Stuffed dates. "

"And your little heart used to go pit-a-pat, so that you could hardlycount the change?"

"Gave her too much, several times!"

"And you wondered if she was as good as she was beautiful! One day youwere thrilled with hope, the next you were cynical and bitter--till atlast you gave up in despair, and ran away to work in a coal-mine!"

They laughed, and MacKellar and Edstrom joined in. But suddenly Keatingbecame serious again. "I ought to be away on that story!" he exclaimed. "I've got to get something out of that crowd about the disaster. Thinkwhat copy it would make!"

"But how can you do it?"

"I don't know; I only know I ought to be trying. I'll hang round thetrain, and maybe I can get one of the porters to talk. "

"Interview with the Coal King's porter!" chuckled Hal. "How it feels tomake up a multi-millionaire's bed!"

"How it feels to sell stuffed dates to a banker's daughter!" counteredthe other. 

But suddenly it was Hal's turn to become serious. "Listen, Mr. Keating, "said he, "why not let _me_ interview young Harrigan?"

"_You?_"

"Yes! I'm the proper person--one of his miners! I help to make his moneyfor him, don't I? I'm the one to tell him about North Valley. "

Hal saw the reporter staring at him in sudden excitement; he continued:"I've been to the District Attorney, the Justice of the Peace, theDistrict Judge, the Mayor and the Chief of Police. Now, why shouldn't Igo to the Owner?"

"By thunder!" cried Billy. "I believe you'd have the nerve!"

"I believe I would, " replied Hal, quietly. 

The other scrambled out of his chair, wild with delight. "I dare you!"he exclaimed. 

"I'm ready, " said Hal. 

"You mean it?"

"Of course I mean it. "

"In that costume?"

"Certainly. I'm one of his miners. "

"But it won't go, " cried the reporter. "You'll stand no chance to getnear him unless you're well dressed. "

"Are you sure of that? What I've got on might be the garb of arailroad-hand. Suppose there was something out of order in one of thecars--the plumbing, for example?"

"But you couldn't fool the conductor or the porter. "

"I might be able to. Let's try it. "

There was a pause, while Keating thought. "The truth is, " he said, "itdoesn't matter whether you succeed or not--it's a story if you even makethe attempt. The Coal King's son appealed to by one of his serfs! Thehard heart of Plutocracy rejects the cry of Labour!"

"Yes, " said Hal, "but I really mean to get to him. Do you suppose he'sgot back to the train yet?"

"They were starting to it when I left. "

"And where _is_ the train?"

"Two or three hundred yards east of the station, I was told. "

MacKellar and Edstrom had been listening enthralled to this excitingconversation. "That ought to be just back of my house, " said the former. 

"It's a short train--four parlour-cars and a baggage-car, " addedKeating. "It ought to be easy to recognise. "

The old Scotchman put in an objection. "The difficulty may be to get outof this house. I don't believe they mean to let you get away to-night. "

"By Jove, that's so!" exclaimed Keating. "We're talking too much--let'sget busy. Are they watching the back door, do you suppose?"

"They've been watching it all day, " said MacKellar. 

"Listen, " broke in Hal--"I've an idea. They haven't tried to interferewith your going out, have they, Mr. Keating?"

"No, not yet. "

"Nor with you, Mr. MacKellar?"

"No, not yet, " said the Scotchman. 

"Well, " Hal suggested, "suppose you lend me your crutches?"

Whereat Keating gave an exclamation of delight. "The very thing!"

"I'll take your over-coat and hat, " Hal added. "I've watched you getabout, and I think I can give an imitation. As for Mr. Keating, he's noteasy to mistake. "

"Billy, the fat boy!" laughed the other. "Come, let's get on the job!"

"I'll go out by the front door at the same time, " put in Edstrom, hisold voice trembling with excitement. "Maybe that'll help to throw themoff the track. "

SECTION 11. 

They had been sitting upstairs in MacKellar's room. Now they rose, andwere starting for the stairs, when suddenly there came a ring at thefront door bell. They stopped and stared at one another. "There theyare!" whispered Keating. 

And MacKellar sat down suddenly, and held out his crutches to Hal. "Thehat and coat are in the front hall, " he exclaimed. "Make a try for it!"His words were full of vigour, but like Edstrom, his voice wastrembling. He was no longer young, and could not take adventure gaily. 

Hal and Keating ran downstairs, followed by Edstrom. Hal put on the coatand hat, and they went to the back door, while at the same time Edstromanswered the bell in front. 

The back door opened into a yard, and this gave, through a side gate, into an alley. Hal's heart was pounding furiously as he began to hobblealong with the crutches. He had to go at MacKellar's slow pace--whileKeating, at his side, started talking. He informed "Mr. MacKellar, " in acasual voice, that the _Gazette_ was a newspaper which believed in thepeople's cause, and was pledged to publish the people's side of allpublic questions. Discoursing thus, they went out of the gate and intothe alley. 

A man emerged from the shadows and walked by them. He passed withinthree feet of Hal, and peered at him, narrowly. Fortunately there was nomoon; Hal could not see the man's face, and hoped the man could not seehis. 

Meantime Keating was proceeding with his discourse. "You understand, Mr. MacKellar, " he was saying, "sometimes it's difficult to find out thetruth in a situation like this. When the interests are filling theirnewspapers with falsehoods and exaggerations, it's a temptation for usto publish falsehoods and exaggerations on the other side. But we findin the long run that it pays best to publish the truth, Mr. MacKellar--we can stand by it, and there's no come-back. "

Hal, it must be admitted, was not paying much attention to this edifyingsermon. He was looking ahead, to where the alley debouched onto thestreet. It was the street behind MacKellar's house, and only a blockfrom the railroad-track. 

He dared not look behind, but he was straining his ears. Suddenly heheard a shout, in John Edstrom's voice. "Run! Run!"

In a flash, Hal dropped the two crutches, and started down the alley, Keating at his heels. They heard cries behind them, and a voice, sounding quite near, commanded, "Halt!" They had reached the end of thealley, and were in the act of swerving, when a shot rang out and therewas a crash of glass in a house beyond them on the far side of thestreet. 

Farther on was a vacant lot with a path running across it. Followingthis, they dodged behind some shanties, and came to another street--andso to the railroad tracks. There was a long line of freight-cars beforethem, and they ran between two of these, and climbing over thecouplings, saw a great engine standing, its headlight gleaming full intheir eyes. They sprang in front of it, and alongside the train, passinga tender, then a baggage-car, then a parlour-car. 

"Here we are!" exclaimed Keating, who was puffing like a bellows. 

Hal saw that there were only three more cars to the train; also, he sawa man in a blue uniform standing at the steps. He dashed towards him. "Your car's on fire!" he cried. 

"What?" exclaimed the man. "Where?"

"Here!" cried Hal; and in a flash he had sprung past the other, up thesteps and into the car. 

There was a long, narrow corridor, to be recognised as the kitchenportion of a dining-car; at the other end of this corridor was aswinging door, and to this Hal leaped. He heard the conductor shoutingto him to stop, but he paid no heed. He slipped off his over-coat andhat; and then, pushing open the door, he entered a brightly lightedapartment--and the presence of the Coal King's son. 

SECTION 12. 

White linen and cut glass of the dining-saloon shone brilliantly underelectric lights, softened to the eye by pink shades. Seated at thetables were half a dozen young men and as many young ladies, all inevening costume; also two or three older ladies. They had begun thefirst course of their meal, and were laughing and chatting, whensuddenly came this unexpected visitor, clad in coal-stained miner'sjumpers. He was not disturbing in the manner of his entry; butimmediately behind him came a fat man, perspiring, wild of aspect, andwheezing like an old fashioned steam-engine; behind him came theconductor of the train, in a no less evident state of agitation. So, ofcourse, conversation ceased. The young ladies turned in their chairs, while several of the young men sprang to their feet. 

There followed a silence: until finally one of the young men took a stepforward. "What's this?" he demanded, as one who had a right to demand. 

Hal advanced towards the speaker, a slender youth, correct inappearance, but not distinguished looking. "Hello, Percy!" said Hal. 

A look of amazement came upon the other's face. He stared, but seemedunable to believe what he saw. And then suddenly came a cry from one ofthe young ladies; the one having hair the colour of molasses taffy whenyou've pulled it--but all fluffy and wonderful, with stardust in it. Hercheeks were pink and cream, and her brown eyes gazed, wide open, full ofwonder. She wore a dinner gown of soft olive green, with a cream whitescarf of some filmy material thrown about her bare shoulders. 

She had started to her feet. "It's Hal!" she cried. 

"Hal Warner!" echoed young Harrigan. "Why, what in the world--?"

He was interrupted by a clamour outside. "Wait a moment, " said Hal, quietly. "I think some one else is coming in. "

The door was pushed violently open. It was pushed so violently thatBilly Keating and the conductor were thrust to one side; and Jeff Cottonappeared in the entrance. 

The camp-marshal was breathless, his face full of the passion of thehunt. In his right hand he carried a revolver. He glared about him, andsaw the two men he was chasing; also he saw the Coal King's son, and therest of the astonished company. He stood, stricken dumb. 

The door was pushed again, forcing him aside, and two more men crowdedin, both of them carrying revolvers in their hands. The foremost wasPete Hanun, and he also stood staring. The "breaker of teeth" had twoteeth of his own missing, and when his prize-fighter's jaw dropped down, the deficiency became conspicuous. It was probably his first entranceinto society, and he was like an overgrown boy caught in the jam-closet. 

Percy Harrigan's manner became distinctly imperious. "What does thismean?" he demanded. 

It was Hal who answered. "I am seeking a criminal, Percy. "

"What?" There were little cries of alarm from the women. 

"Yes, a criminal; the man who sealed up the mine. "

"Sealed up the mine?" echoed the other. "What do you mean?"

"Let me explain. First, I will introduce my friends. Harrigan, this ismy friend Keating. "

Billy suddenly realised that he had a hat on his head. He jerked it off;but for the rest, his social instincts failed him. He could only stare. He had not yet got all his breath. 

"Billy's a reporter, " said Hal. "But you needn't worry--he's agentleman, and won't betray a confidence. You understand, Billy. "

"Y--yes, " said Billy, faintly. 

"And this, " said Hal, "is Jeff Cotton, camp-marshal at North Valley. Isuppose you know, Percy, that the North Valley mines belong to the 'G. F. C. ' Cotton, this is Mr. Harrigan. "

Then Cotton remembered his hat; also his revolver, which he tried to getout of sight behind his back. 

"And this, " continued Hal, "is Mr. Pete Hanun, by profession a breakerof teeth. This other gentleman, whose name I don't know, is presumablyan assistant-breaker. " So Hal went on, observing the forms of socialintercourse, his purpose being to give his mind a chance to work. Somuch depended upon the tactics he chose in this emergency! Should hetake Percy to one side and tell him the story quietly, leaving it to hissense of justice and humanity? No, that was not the way one dealt withthe Harrigans! They had bullied their way to the front; if anything weredone with them, it would be by force! If anything were done with Percy, it would be by laying hold of him before these guests, exposing thesituation, and using their feelings to coerce him!

The Coal King's son was asking questions again. What was all this about?So Hal began to describe the condition of the men inside the mine. "Theyhave no food or water, except what they had in their dinner-pails; andit's been three days and a half since the explosion! They are breathingbad air; their heads are aching, the veins swelling in their foreheads;their tongues are cracking, they are lying on the ground, gasping. Butthey are waiting--kept alive by the faith they have in their friends onthe surface, who will try to get to them. They dare not take down thebarriers, because the gases would kill them at once. But they know therescuers will come, so they listen for the sounds of axes and picks. That is the situation. "

Hal stopped and waited for some sign of concern from young Harrigan. Butno such sign was given. Hal went on:

"Think of it, Percy! There is one old man in that mine, an Irishman whohas a wife and eight children waiting to learn about his fate. I knowone woman who has a husband and three sons in the mine. For three daysand a half the women and children have been standing at the pit-mouth; Ihave seen them sitting with their heads sunk upon their knees, orshaking their fists, screaming curses at the criminal who is to blame. "

There was a pause. "The criminal?" inquired young Harrigan. "I don'tunderstand!"

"You'll hardly be able to believe it; but nothing has been done torescue these men. The criminal has nailed a cover of boards over thepit-mouth, and put tarpaulin over it--sealing up men and boys to die!"

There was a murmur of horror from the diners. 

"I know, you can't conceive such a thing. The reason is, there's a firein the mine; if the fan is set to working, the coal will burn. But atthe same time, some of the passages could be got clear of smoke, andsome of the men could be rescued. So it's a question of property againstlives; and the criminal has decided for the property. He proposes towait a week, two weeks, until the fire has been smothered; _then_ ofcourse the men and boys will be dead. "

There was a silence. It was broken by young Harrigan. "Who has donethis?"

"His name is Enos Cartwright. "

"But who _is_ he?"

"Just now when I said that I was seeking the criminal, I misled you alittle, Percy. I did it because I wanted to collect my thoughts. " Halpaused: when he continued, his voice was sharper, his sentences fallinglike blows. "The criminal I've been telling you about is thesuperintendent of the mine--a man employed and put in authority by theGeneral Fuel Company. The one who is being chased is not the one whosealed up the mine, but the one who proposed to have it opened. He isbeing treated as a malefactor, because the laws of the state, as well asthe laws of humanity, have been suppressed by the General Fuel Company;he was forced to seek refuge in your car, in order to save his life fromthugs and gunmen in the company's employ!"

SECTION 13. 

Knowing these people well, Hal could measure the effect of thethunderbolt he had hurled among them. They were people to whom goodtaste was the first of all the virtues; he knew how he was offendingthem. If he was to win them to the least extent, he must explain hispresence here--a trespasser upon the property of the Harrigans. 

"Percy, " he continued, "you remember how you used to jump on me lastyear at college, because I listened to 'muck-rakers. ' You saw fit totake personal offence at it. You knew that their tales couldn't be true. But I wanted to see for myself, so I went to work in a coal-mine. I sawthe explosion; I saw this man, Jeff Cotton, driving women and childrenaway from the pit-mouth with blows and curses. I set out to help the menin the mine, and the marshal rushed me out of camp. He told me that if Ididn't go about my business, something would happen to me on a darknight. And you see--this is a dark night!"

Hal waited, to give young Harrigan a chance to grasp this situation andto take command. But apparently young Harrigan was not aware of thepresence of the camp-marshal and his revolver. Hal tried again:

"Evidently these men wouldn't have minded killing me; they fired at mejust now. The marshal still has the revolver and you can smell thepowder-smoke. So I took the liberty of entering your car, Percy. It wasto save my life, and you'll have to excuse me. "

The Coal King's son had here a sudden opportunity to be magnanimous. Hemade haste to avail himself of it. "Of course, Hal, " he said. "It wasquite all right to come here. If our employés were behaving in suchfashion, it was without authority, and they will surely pay for it. " Hespoke with quiet certainty; it was the Harrigan manner, and before itJeff Cotton and the two mine-guards seemed to wither and shrink. 

"Thank you, Percy, " said Hal. "It's what I knew you'd say. I'm sorry tohave disturbed your dinner-party--"

"Not at all, Hal; it was nothing of a party. "

"You see, Percy, it was not only to save myself, but the people in themine! They are dying, and every moment is precious. It will take a dayat least to get to them, so they'll be at their last gasp. Whatever's tobe done must be done at once. "

Again Hal waited--until the pause became awkward. The diners had so farbeen looking at him; but now they were looking at young Harrigan, andyoung Harrigan felt the change. 

"I don't know just what you expect of me, Hal. My father employscompetent men to manage his business, and I certainly don't feel that Iknow enough to give them any suggestions. " This again in the Harriganmanner; but it weakened before Hal's firm gaze. "What can I do?"

"You can give the order to open the mine, to reverse the fan and startit. That will draw out the smoke and gases, and the rescuers can godown. "

"But Hal, I assure you I have no authority to give such an order. "

"You must _take_ the authority. Your father's in the East, the officersof the company are in their beds at home; you are here!"

"But I don't understand such things, Hal! I don't know anything of thesituation--except what you tell me. And while I don't doubt your word, any man may make a mistake in such a situation. "

"Come and see for yourself, Percy! That's all I ask, and it's easyenough. Here is your train, your engine with steam up; have us switchedonto the North Valley branch, and we can be at the mine in half an hour. Then--let me take you to the men who know! Men who've been working alltheir lives in mines, who've seen accidents like this many times, andwho will tell you the truth--that there's a chance of saving many lives, and that the chance is being thrown away to save some thousands ofdollars' worth of coal and timbers and track. "

"But even if that's true, Hal, I have no _power_!"

"If you come there, you can cut the red-tape in one minute. What thosebosses are doing is a thing that can only be done in darkness!"

Under the pressure of Hal's vehemence, the Harrigan manner was failing;the Coal King's son was becoming a bewildered and quite ordinary youth. But there was a power greater than Hal behind him. He shook his head. "It's the old man's business, Hal. I've no right to butt in!"

The other, in his desperate need, turned to the rest of the party. Hisgaze, moving from one face to another, rested upon the magazine-covercountenance, with the brown eyes wide open, full of wonder. 

"Jessie! What do you think about it?"

The girl started, and distress leaped into her face. "How do you mean, Hal?"

"Tell him he ought to save those lives!"

The moments seemed ages as Hal waited. It was a test, he realised. Thebrown eyes dropped. "I don't understand such things, Hal!"

"But, Jessie, I am explaining them! Here are men and boys beingsuffocated to death, in order to save a little money. Isn't that plain?"

"But how can I _know_, Hal?"

"I'm giving you my word, Jessie. Surely I wouldn't appeal to you unlessI knew. "

Still she hesitated. And there came a swift note of feeling into hisvoice: "Jessie, dear!"

As if under a spell, the girl's eyes were raised to his; he saw ascarlet flame of embarrassment spreading over her throat and cheeks. "Jessie, I know--it seems an intolerable thing to ask! You've never beenrude to a friend. But I remember once you forgot your good manners, whenyou saw a rough fellow on the street beating an old drudge-horse. Don'tyou remember how you rushed at him--like a wild thing! And now--think ofit, dear, here are old drudge-creatures being tortured to death; but nothorses--working-men!"

Still the girl gazed at him. He could read grief, dismay in her eyes; hesaw tears steal from them, and stream down her cheeks. "Oh, I don'tknow, I don't _know!_" she cried; and hid her face in her hands, andbegan to sob aloud. 

SECTION 14. 

There was a painful pause. Hal's gaze travelled on, and came to agrey-haired lady in a black dinner-gown, with a rope of pearls about herneck. "Mrs. Curtis! Surely _you_ will advise him!"

The grey-haired lady started--was there no limit to his impudence? Shehad witnessed the torturing of Jessie. But Jessie was his fiancée; hehad no such claim upon Mrs. Curtis. She answered, with iciness in hertone: "I could not undertake to dictate to my host in such a matter. "

"Mrs. Curtis! You have founded a charity for the helping of stray catsand dogs!" These words rose to Hal's lips; but he did not say them. Hiseyes moved on. Who else might help to bully a Harrigan?

Next to Mrs. Curtis sat Reggie Porter, with a rose in the button-hole ofhis dinner-jacket. Hal knew the rôle in which Reggie was there--a kindof male chaperon, an assistant host, an admirer to the wealthy, a solaceto the bored. Poor Reggie lived other people's lives, his soulperpetually a-quiver with other people's excitements, with gossip, preparations for tea-parties, praise of tea-parties past. And always thesoul was pushing; calculating, measuring opportunities, making up intact and elegance for distressing lack of money. Hal got one swiftglimpse of the face; the sharp little black moustaches seemed standingup with excitement, and in a flash of horrible intuition Hal read thesituation--Reggie was expecting to be questioned, and had got ready ananswer that would increase his social capital in the Harrigan familybank!

Across the aisle sat Genevieve Halsey: tall, erect, built on the scaleof a statue. You thought of the ox-eyed Juno, and imagined statelyemotions; but when you came to know Genevieve, you discovered that hermind was slow, and entirely occupied with herself. Next to her was BobCreston, smooth-shaven, rosy-cheeked, exuding well-being--what is calleda "good fellow, " with a wholesome ambition to win cups for his athleticclub, and to keep up the score of his rifle-team of the state militia. Jolly Bob might have spoken, out of his good heart; but he was in lovewith a cousin of Percy's, Betty Gunnison, who sat across the table fromhim--and Hal saw her black eyes shining, her little fists clenchedtightly, her lips pressed white. Hal understood Betty--she was one ofthe Harrigans, working at the Harrigan family task of making thechildren of a pack-pedlar into leaders in the "younger set!"

Next sat "Vivie" Cass, whose talk was of horses and dogs and suchungirlish matters; Hal had discussed social questions in her presence, and heard her view expressed in one flashing sentence--"If a man eatswith his knife, I consider him my personal enemy!" Over her shoulderpeered the face of a man with pale eyes and yellow moustaches--BertAtkins, cynical and world-weary, whom the papers referred to as a"club-man, " and whom Hal's brother had called a "tame cat. " There was"Dicky" Everson, like Hal, a favourite of the ladies, but nothing more;"Billy" Harris, son of another "coal man"; Daisy, his sister; andBlanche Vagleman, whose father was Old Peter's head lawyer, whosebrother was the local counsel, and publisher of the Pedro _Star_. 

So Hal's eyes moved from face to face, and his mind from personality topersonality. It was like the unrolling of a scroll; a panorama of aworld he had half forgotten. He had no time for reflection, but oneimpression came to him, swift and overwhelming. Once he had lived inthis world and taken it as a matter of course. He had known thesepeople, gone about with them; they had seemed friendly, obliging, a goodsort of people on the whole. And now, what a change! They seemed nolonger friendly! Was the change in them? Or was it Hal who had becomecynical--so that he saw them in this terrifying new light, cold, andunconcerned as the stars about men who were dying a few miles away!

Hal's eyes came back to the Coal King's son, and he discovered thatPercy was white with anger. "I assure you, Hal, there's no use going onwith this. I have no intention of letting myself be bulldozed. "

Percy's gaze shifted with sudden purpose to the camp-marshal. "Cotton, what do you say about this? Is Mr. Warner correct in his idea of thesituation?"

"You know what such a man would say, Percy!" broke in Hal. 

"I don't, " was the reply. "I wish to know. What is it, Cotton?"

"He's mistaken, Mr. Harrigan. " The marshal's voice was sharp anddefiant. 

"In what way?"

"The company's doing everything to get the mine open, and has been fromthe beginning. "

"Oh!" And there was triumph in Percy's voice. "What is the cause of thedelay?"

"The fan was broken, and we had to send for a new one. It's a job to setit up--such things can't be done in an hour. "

Percy turned to Hal. "You see! There are two opinions, at least!"

"Of course!" cried Betty Gunnison, her black eyes snapping at Hal. Shewould have said more, but Hal interrupted, stepping closer to his host. "Percy, " he said, in a low voice, "come back here, please. I have a wordto say to you alone. "

There was just a hint of menace in Hal's voice; his gaze went to the farend of the car, a space occupied only by two negro waiters. Theseretired in haste as the young men moved towards them; and so, having theCoal King's son to himself, Hal went in to finish this fight. 

SECTION 15. 

Percy Harrigan was known to Hal, as a college-boy is known to hisclass-mates. He was not brutal, like his grim old father; he was merelyself-indulgent, as one who had always had everything; he was weak, asone who had never had to take a bold resolve. He had been brought up bythe women of the family, to be a part of what they called "society"; inwhich process he had been given high notions of his own importance. Thelife of the Harrigans was dominated by one painful memory--that of apedlar's pack; and Hal knew that Percy's most urgent purpose was to beregarded as a real and true and freehanded aristocrat. It was thisknowledge Hal was using in his attack. 

He began with apologies, attempting to soothe the other's anger. He hadnot meant to make a scene like this; it was the gunmen who had forcedit, putting his life in danger. It was the very devil, being chasedabout at night and shot at! He had lost his nerve, really; he had forgotwhat little manners he had been able to keep as a miner's buddy. He hadmade a spectacle of himself; good Lord yes, he realised how he mustseem!

--And Hal looked at his dirty miner's jumpers, and then at Percy. Hecould see that Percy was in hearty agreement thus far--he had indeedmade a spectacle of himself, and of Percy too! Hal was sorry about thislatter, but here they were, in a pickle, and it was certainly too latenow. This story was out--there could be no suppressing it! Hal might sitdown on his reporter-friend, Percy might sit down on the waiters and theconductor and the camp-marshal and the gunmen--but he could not possiblysit down on all his friends! They would talk about nothing else forweeks! The story would be all over Western City in a day--this amazing, melodramatic, ten-twenty-thirty story of a miner's buddy in the privatecar of the Coal King's son!

"And you must see, Percy, " Hal went on, "it's the sort of thing thatsticks to a man. It's the thing by which everybody will form their ideaof you as long as you live!"

"I'll take my chances with my friends' criticism, " said the other, withsome attempt at the Harrigan manner. 

"You can make it whichever kind of story you choose, " continued Hal, implacably. "The world will say, He decided for the dollars; or it willsay, He decided for the lives. Surely, Percy, your family doesn't needthose particular dollars so badly! Why, you've spent more on this onetrain-trip!"

And Hal waited, to give his victim time to calculate. 

The result of the thinking was a question worthy of Old Peter. "What are_you_ getting out of this?"

"Percy, " said Hal, "you must _know_ I'm getting nothing! If you can'tunderstand it otherwise, say to yourself that you are dealing with a manwho's irresponsible. I've seen so many terrible things--I've been chasedaround so much by camp-marshals--why, Percy, that man Cotton has sixnotches on his gun! I'm simply crazy!" And into the brown eyes of thisminer's buddy came a look wild enough to convince a stronger man thanPercy Harrigan. "I've got just one idea left in the world, Percy--tosave those miners! You make a mistake unless you realise how desperate Iam. So far I've done this thing incog! I've been Joe Smith, a miner'sbuddy. If I'd come out and told my real name--well, maybe I wouldn'thave made them open the mine, but at least I'd have made a lot oftrouble for the G. F. C. ! But I didn't do it; I knew what a scandal itwould make, and there was something I owed my father. But if I seethere's no other way, if it's a question of letting those people perish, I'll throw everything else to the winds. Tell your father that; tell himI threatened to turn this man Keating loose and blow the thing wideopen--denounce the company, appeal to the Governor, raise a disturbanceand get arrested on the street, if necessary, in order to force thefacts before the public. You see, I've got the facts, Percy! I've beenthere and seen with my own eyes. Can't you realise that?"

The other did not answer, but it was evident that he realised. 

"On the other hand, see how you can fix it, if you choose. You were on apleasure trip when you heard of this disaster; you rushed up and tookcommand, you opened the mine, you saved the lives of your employés. Thatis the way the papers will handle it. "

Hal, watching his victim intently, and groping for the path to his mind, perceived that he had gone wrong. Crude as the Harrigans were, they hadlearned that it is not aristocratic to be picturesque. 

"All right then!" said Hal, quickly. "If you prefer, you needn't bementioned. The bosses up at the camp have the reporters under theirthumbs, they'll handle the story any way you want it. The one thing Icare about is that you run your car up and see the mine opened. Won'tyou do it, Percy?"

Hal was gazing into the other's eyes, knowing that life and death forthe miners hung upon his nod. "Well? What is the answer?"

"Hal, " exclaimed Percy, "my old man will give me hell!"

"All right; but on the other hand, _I'll_ give you hell; and which willbe worse?"

Again there was a silence. "Come along, Percy! For God's sake!" AndHal's tone was desperate, alarming. 

And suddenly the other gave way. "All right!"

Hal drew a breath. "But mind you!" he added. "You're not going up thereto let them fool you! They'll try to bluff you out--they may go as faras to refuse to obey you. But you must stand by your guns--for, you see, I'm going along, I'm going to see that mine open. I'll never quit tillthe rescuers have gone down!"

"Will they go, Hal?"

"Will they go? Good God, man, they're clamouring for the chance to go!They've almost been rioting for it. I'll go with them--and you, too, Percy--the whole crowd of us idlers will go! When we come out, we'llknow something about the business of coal-mining!"

"All right, I'm with you, " said the Coal King's son. 

SECTION 16. 

Hal never knew what Percy said to Cartwright that night; he only knewthat when they arrived at the mine the superintendent was summoned to aconsultation, and half an hour later Percy emerged smiling, with theannouncement that Hal Warner had been mistaken all along; the mineauthorities had been making all possible haste to get the fan ready, with the intention of opening the mine at the earliest moment. The workwas now completed, and in an hour or two the fan was to be started, andby morning there would be a chance of rescuers getting in. Percy saidthis so innocently that for a moment Hal wondered if Percy himself mightnot believe it. Hal's position as guest of course required that heshould graciously pretend to believe it, consenting to appear as a foolbefore the rest of the company. 

Percy invited Hal and Billy Keating to spend the night in the train; butthis Hal declined. He was too dirty, he said; besides, he wanted to beup at daylight, to be one of the first to go down the shaft. Percyanswered that the superintendent had vetoed this proposition--he did notwant any one to go down but experienced men, who could take care ofthemselves. When there were so many on hand ready and eager to go, therewas no need to imperil the lives of amateurs. 

At the risk of seeming ungracious, Hal declared that he would "hangaround" and see them take the cover off the pit-mouth. There weremourning parties in some of the cabins, where women were gatheredtogether who could not sleep, and it would be an act of charity to takethem the good news. 

Hal and Keating set out; they went first to the Rafferties', and sawMrs. Rafferty spring up and stare at them, and then scream aloud to theHoly Virgin, waking all the little Rafferties to frightened clamour. When the woman had made sure that they really knew what they weretalking about, she rushed out to spread the news, and so pretty soon thestreets were alive with hurrying figures, and a crowd gathered once moreat the pit-mouth. 

Hal and Keating went on to Jerry Minetti's. Out of a sense of loyalty toPercy, Hal did no more than repeat Percy's own announcement, that it hadbeen Cartwright's intention all along to have the mine opened. It wasfunny to see the effect of this statement--the face with which Jerrylooked at Hal! But they wasted no time in discussion; Jerry slipped intohis clothes and hurried with them to the pit-mouth. 

Sure enough, a gang was already tearing off the boards and canvas. Neversince Hal had been in North Valley had he seen men working with such awill! Soon the great fan began to stir, and then to roar, and then tosing; and there was a crowd of a hundred people, roaring and singingalso. 

It would be some hours before anything more could be done; and suddenlyHal realised that he was exhausted. He and Billy Keating went back tothe Minetti cabin, and spreading themselves a blanket on the floor, laydown with sighs of relief. As for Billy, he was soon snoring; but to Halthere came sudden reaction from all the excitement, and sleep was farfrom him. 

An ocean of thoughts came flooding into his mind: the world outside, _his_ world, which he had banished deliberately for several months, andwhich he had so suddenly been compelled to remember! It had seemed sosimple, what he had set out to do that summer: to take another name, tobecome a member of another class, to live its life and think itsthoughts, and then come back to his own world with a new and fascinatingadventure to tell about! The possibility that his own world, the worldof Hal Warner, might find him out as Joe Smith, the miner's buddy--thatwas a possibility which had never come to his mind. He was like aburglar, working away at a job in darkness, and suddenly finding theroom flooded with light. 

He had gone into the adventure, prepared to find things that would shockhim; he had known that somehow, somewhere, he would have to fight the"system. " But he had never expected to find himself in the thick of theclass-war, leading a charge upon the trenches of his own associates. Norwas this the end, he knew; this war would not be settled by the winningof a trench! Lying here in the darkness and silence, Hal was realisingwhat he had got himself in for. To employ another simile, he was a manwho begins a flirtation on the street, and wakes up next morning to findhimself married. 

It was not that he had regrets for the course he had taken with Percy. No other course had been thinkable. But while Hal had known these NorthValley people for ten weeks, he had known the occupants of Percy's carfor as many years. So these latter personalities loomed large in hisconsciousness, and here in the darkness their thoughts about him, whether actively hostile or passively astonished, laid siege to thedefences of his mind. 

Particularly he found himself wrestling with Jessie Arthur. Her facerose up before him, appealing, yearning. She had one of those perfectfaces, which irresistibly compel the soul of a man. Her brown eyes, softand shining, full of tenderness; her lips, quick to tremble withemotion; her skin like apple-blossoms, her hair with star-dust in it!Hal was cynical enough about coal-operators and mine-guards, but itnever occurred to him that Jessie's soul might be anything but whatthese bodily charms implied. He was in love with her; and he was tooyoung, too inexperienced in love to realise that underneath thesweetness of girlhood, so genuine and so lovable, might lie deep, unconscious cruelty, inherited and instinctive--the cruelty of caste, the hardness of worldly prejudice. A man has to come to middle age, andto suffer much, before he understands that the charms of women, thoserare and magical perfections of eyes and teeth and hair, that softnessof skin and delicacy of feature, have cost labour and care of manygenerations, and imply inevitably that life has been feral, that customsand conventions have been murderous and inhuman. 

Jessie had failed Hal in his desperate emergency. But now he went overthe scene, and told himself that the test had been an unfair one. He hadknown her since childhood, and loved her, and never before had he seenan act or heard a word that was not gracious and kind. But--so he toldhimself--she gave her sympathy to those she knew; and what chance hadshe ever had to know working-people? He must give her the chance; hemust compel her, even against her will, to broaden her understanding oflife! The process might hurt her, it might mar the unlined softness ofher face, but nevertheless, it would be good for her--it would be a"growing pain"!

So, lying there in the darkness and silence, Hal found himself absorbedin long conversation with his sweetheart. He escorted her about thecamp, explaining things to her, introducing her to this one and that. Hetook others of his private-car friends and introduced them to his NorthValley friends. There were individuals who had qualities in common, andwould surely hit it off! Bob Creston, for example, who was good at a"song and dance"--he would surely be interested in "Blinky, " thevaudeville specialist of the camp! Mrs. Curtis, who liked cats, wouldfind a bond of sisterhood with old Mrs. Nagle, who lived next door tothe Minettis, and kept five! And even Vivie Cass, who hated men who atewith their knives--she would be driven to murder by the table-manners ofReminitsky's boarders, but she would take delight in "Dago Charlie, " thetobacco-chewing mule which had once been Hal's pet! Hal could hardlywait for daylight to come, so that he might begin these efforts atsocial amalgamation!

SECTION 17. 

Towards dawn Hal fell asleep; he was awakened by Billy Keating, who satup yawning, at the same time grumbling and bewailing. Hal realised thatBilly also had discovered troubles during the night. Never in all hiscareer as a journalist had he had such a story; never had any man hadsuch a story--and it must be killed!

Cartwright had got the reporters together late the night before and toldthem the news--that the company had at last succeeded in getting themine ready to be opened; also that young Mr. Harrigan was there in hisprivate train, prompted by his concern for the entombed miners. Thereporters would mention his coming, of course, but were requested not to"play it up, " nor to mention the names of Mr. Harrigan's guests. Needless to say they were not told that the "buddy" who had been thrownout of camp for insubordination had turned out to be the son of EdwardS. Warner, the "coal magnate. "

A fine, cold rain was falling, and Hal borrowed an old coat of Jerry'sand slipped it on. Little Jerry clamoured to go with him, and after somecontroversy Hal wrapped him in a shawl and slung him onto his shoulder. It was barely daylight, but already the whole population of the villagewas on hand at the pit-mouth. The helmet-men had gone down to maketests, so the hour of final revelation was at hand. Women stood with wetshawls about their hunched shoulders, their faces white and strained, their suspense too great for any sort of utterance. A ghastly thought itwas, that while they were shuddering in the wet, their men below mightbe expiring for lack of a few drops of water!

The helmet-men, coming up, reported that lights would burn at the bottomof the shaft; so it was safe for men to go down without helmets, and thevolunteers of the first rescue party made ready. All night there hadbeen a clattering of hammers, where the carpenters were working on a newcage. Now it was swung from the hoist, and the men took their places init. When at last the hoist began to move, and the group disappearedbelow the surface of the ground, you could hear a sigh from a thousandthroats, like the moaning of wind in a pine-tree. They were leavingwomen and children above, yet not one of these women would have askedthem to stay--such was the deep unconscious bond of solidarity whichmade these toilers of twenty nations one!

It was a slow process, letting down the cage; on account of the dangerof gas, and the newness of the cage, it was necessary to proceed a fewfeet at a time, waiting for a pull upon the signal-cord to tell that themen were all right. After they had reached the bottom, there would bemore time, no one could say how long, before they came upon survivorswith signs of life in them. There were bodies near the foot of theshaft, according to the reports of the helmet-men, but there was no usedelaying to bring these up, for they must have been dead for days. Halsaw a crowd of women clamouring about the helmet-men, trying to find outif these bodies had been recognised. Also he saw Jeff Cotton and BudAdams at their old duty of driving the women back. 

The cage returned for a second load of men. There was less need ofcaution now; the hoist worked quickly, and group after group of men withsilent, set faces, and pickaxes and crow-bars and shovels in theirhands, went down into the pit of terror. They would scatter through theworkings, testing everywhere ahead of them with safety-lamps, andlooking for barriers erected by the imprisoned men for defence againstthe gases. As they hammered on these barriers, perhaps they would hearthe signals of living men on the other side; or they would break throughin silence, and find men too far gone to make a sound, yet possibly withthe spark of life still in them. 

One by one, Hal's friends went down--"Big Jack" David, and Wresmak, theBohemian, Klowoski, the Pole, and finally Jerry Minetti. Little Jerrywaved his hand from his perch on Hal's shoulder; while Rosa, who hadcome out and joined them, was clinging to Hal's arm, silent, as if hersoul were going down in the cage. There went blue-eyed Tim Rafferty tolook for his father, and black-eyed "Andy, " the Greek boy, whose fatherhad perished in a similar disaster years ago; there went Rovetta, andCarmino, the pit-boss, Jerry's cousin. One by one their names ranthrough the crowd, as of heroes marching out to battle. 

SECTION 18. 

Looking about, Hal saw some of the guests of the Harrigan party. Therewas Vivie Cass, standing under an umbrella with Bert Atkins; and therewas Bob Creston with Dicky Everson. These two had on mackintoshes andwater-proof hats, and were talking to Cartwright; tall, immaculate men, who seemed like creatures of another world beside the stunted andcoal-smutted miners. 

Seeing Hal, they moved over to him. "Where did you get the kid?"inquired Bob, his rosy, smooth-shaven face breaking into a smile. 

"I picked him up, " said Hal, giving Little Jerry a toss and sliding himoff his shoulder. 

"Hello, kid!" said Bob. 

And the answer came promptly, "Hello, yourself!" Little Jerry knew howto talk American; he was a match for any society man! "My father's wentdown in that cage, " said he, looking up at the tall stranger, his brightblack eyes sparkling. 

"Is that so!" replied the other. "Why don't you go?"

"My father'll get 'em out. He ain't afraid o' nothin', my father!"

"What's your father's name?"

"Big Jerry. "

"Oho! And what'll you be when you grow up?"

"I'm goin' to be a shot-firer. "

"In this mine?"

"You bet not!"

"Why not?"

Little Jerry looked mysterious. "I ain't tellin' all I know, " said he. 

The two young fellows laughed. Here was education for them! "Maybeyou'll go back to the old country?" put in Dicky Everson. 

"No, sir-ee!" said Little Jerry. "I'm American. "

"Maybe you'll be president some day. "

"That's what my father says, " replied the little chap--"president of aminers' union. "

Again they laughed; but Rosa gave a nervous whisper and caught at thechild's sleeve. That was not the sort of thing to say to mysterious andrich-looking strangers! "This is Little Jerry's mother, Mrs. Minetti, "put in Hal, by way of reassuring her. 

"Glad to meet you, Mrs. Minetti, " said the two young men, taking offtheir hats with elaborate bows; they stared, for Rosa was a prettyobject as she blushed and made her shy response. She was muchembarrassed, having never before in her life been bowed to by men likethese. 

And here they were greeting Joe Smith as an old friend, and calling himby a strange name! She turned her black Italian eyes upon Hal ininquiry, and he felt a flush creeping over him. It was almost asuncomfortable to be found out by North Valley as to be found out byWestern City!

The men talked about the rescue-work, and what Cartwright had beentelling of its progress. The fire was in one of the main passages, andwas burning out the timbering, spreading rapidly under the draft fromthe reversed fan. There could be little hope of rescue in this part ofthe mine, but the helmet-men would defy the heat and smoke in the burnedout passages. They knew how likely was the collapse of such portions ofthe mine; but also they knew that men had been working here before theexplosion. "I must say they're a game lot!" remarked Dicky. 

A group of women and children were gathered about to listen, theirshyness overcome by their torturing anxiety for news. They made onethink of women in war-time, listening to the roar of distant guns andwaiting for the bringing in of the wounded. Hal saw Bob and Dicky glancenow and then at the ring of faces about them; they were gettingsomething of this mood, and that was a part of what he had desired forthem. 

"Are the others coming out?" he asked. 

"I don't know, " said Bob. "I suppose they're having breakfast. It's timewe went in. "

"Won't you come with us?" added Dicky. 

"No, thanks, " replied Hal, "I've an engagement with the kid here. " Andhe gave Little Jerry's hand a squeeze. "But tell some of the otherfellows to come. They'll be interested in these things. "

"All right, " said the two, as they moved away. 

SECTION 19. 

After allowing a sufficient time for the party in the dining-car tofinish breakfast, Hal went down to the tracks, and induced the porter totake in his name to Percy Harrigan. He was hoping to persuade Percy tosee the village under other than company chaperonage; he heard withdismay the announcement that the party had arranged to depart in thecourse of a couple of hours. 

"But you haven't seen anything at all!" Hal protested. 

"They won't let us into the mine, " replied the other. "What else isthere we can do?"

"I wanted you to talk to the people and learn something about conditionshere. You ought not to lose this chance, Percy!"

"That's all right, Hal, but you might understand this isn't a convenienttime. I've got a lot of people with me, and I've no right to ask them towait. "

"But can't they learn something also, Percy?"

"It's raining, " was the reply; "and ladies would hardly care to standround in a crowd and see dead bodies brought out of a mine. "

Hal got the rebuke. Yes, he had grown callous since coming to NorthValley; he had lost that delicacy of feeling, that intuitiveunderstanding of the sentiments of ladies, which he would surely haveexhibited a short time earlier in his life. He was excited about thisdisaster; it was a personal thing to him, and he lost sight of the factthat to the ladies of the Harrigan party it was, in its details, merelysordid and repelling. If they went out in the mud and rain of amining-village and stood about staring, they would feel that they wereexhibiting, not human compassion, but idle curiosity. The sights theywould see would harrow them to no purpose; and incidentally they wouldbe exposing themselves to distressing publicity. As for offeringsympathy to widows and orphans--well, these were foreigners mostly, whocould not understand what was said to them, and who might be moreembarrassed than helped by the intrusion into their grief of personsfrom an alien world. 

The business of offering sympathy had been reduced to a system by thecivilisation which these ladies helped to maintain; and, as it happened, there was one present who was familiar with this system. Mrs. Curtis hadalready acted, so Percy informed Hal; she had passed about asubscription-paper, and in a couple of minutes over a thousand dollarshad been pledged. This would be paid by check to the "Red Cross, " whoseagents would understand how to distribute relief among such sufferers. So the members of Percy's party felt that they had done the proper anddelicate thing, and might go their ways with a quiet conscience. 

"The world can't stop moving just because there's been a mine-disaster, "said the Coal King's son. "People have engagements they must keep. "

And he went on to explain what these engagements were. He himself had togo to a dinner that evening, and would barely be able to make it. BertAtkins was to play a challenge match at billiards, and Mrs. Curtis wasto attend a committee meeting of a woman's club. Also it was the lastFriday of the month; had Hal forgotten what that meant?

After a moment Hal remembered--the "Young People's Night" at the countryclub! He had a sudden vision of the white colonial mansion on themountain-side, with its doors and windows thrown wide, and the strainsof an orchestra floating out. In the ball-room the young ladies ofPercy's party would appear--Jessie, his sweetheart, among them--gownedin filmy chiffons and laces, floating in a mist of perfume and colourand music. They would laugh and chatter, they would flirt and schemeagainst one another for the sovereignty of the ball-room--while here inNorth Valley the sobbing widows would be clutching their mangled dead intheir arms! How strange, how ghastly it seemed! How like the scenes oneread of on the eve of the French Revolution!

SECTION 20. 

Percy wanted Hal to come away with the party. He suggested thistactfully at first, and then, as Hal did not take the hint, he began topress the matter, showing signs of irritation. The mine was opennow--what more did Hal want? When Hal suggested that Cartwright mightorder it closed again, Percy revealed the fact that the matter was inhis father's hands. The superintendent had sent a long telegram thenight before, and an answer was due at any moment. Whatever the answerordered would have to be done. 

There was a grim look upon Hal's face, but he forced himself to speakpolitely. "If your father orders anything that interferes with therescuing of the men--don't you see, Percy, that I have to fight him?"

"But how _can_ you fight him?"

"With the one weapon I have--publicity. "

"You mean--" Percy stopped, and stared. 

"I mean what I said before--I'd turn Billy Keating loose and blow thiswhole story wide open. "

"Well, by God!" cried young Harrigan. "I must say I'd call it damneddirty of you! You said you'd not do it, if I'd come here and open themine!"

"But what good does it do to open it, if you close it again before themen are out?" Hal paused, and when he went on it was in a sincereattempt at apology. "Percy, don't imagine I fail to appreciate theembarrassments of this situation. I know I must seem a cad to you--morethan you've cared to tell me. I called you my friend in spite of all ourquarrels. All I can do is to assure you that I never intended to getinto such a position as this. "

"Well, what the hell did you want to come here for? You knew it was theproperty of a friend--"

"That's the question at issue between us, Percy. Have you forgotten ourarguments? I tried to convince you what it meant that you and I shouldown the things by which other people have to live. I said we wereignorant of the conditions under which our properties were worked, wewere a bunch of parasites and idlers. But you laughed at me, called me acrank, an anarchist, said I swallowed what any muck-raker fed me. So Isaid: 'I'll go to one of Percy's mines! Then, when he tries to arguewith me, I'll have him!' That was the way the thing started--as a joke. But then I got drawn into things. I don't want to be nasty, but no manwith a drop of red blood in his veins could stay in this place a weekwithout wanting to fight! That's why I want you to stay--you ought tostay, to meet some of the people and see for yourself. "

"Well, I can't stay, " said the other, coldly. "And all I can tell you isthat I wish you'd go somewhere else to do your sociology. "

"But where could I go, Percy? Somebody owns everything. If it's a bigthing, it's almost certain to be somebody we know. "

Said Percy, "If I might make a suggestion, you could have begun with thecoal-mines of the Warner Company. "

Hal laughed. "You may be sure I thought of that, Percy. But see thesituation! If I was to accomplish my purpose, it was essential that Ishouldn't be known. And I had met some of my father's superintendents inhis office, and I knew they'd recognise me. So I _had_ to go to someother mines. "

"Most fortunate for the Warner Company, " replied Percy, in an ugly tone. 

Hal answered, gravely, "Let me tell you, I don't intend to leave theWarner Company permanently out of my sociology. "

"Well, " replied the other, "all I can say is that we pass one of theirproperties on our way back, and nothing would please me better than tostop the train and let you off!"

SECTION 21. 

Hal went into the drawing-room car. There were Mrs. Curtis and ReggiePorter, playing bridge with Genevieve Halsey and young Everson. BobCreston was chatting with Betty Gunnison, telling her what he had seenoutside, no doubt. Bert Atkins was looking over the morning paper, yawning. Hal went on, seeking Jessie Arthur, and found her in one of thecompartments of the car, looking out of the rain-drenchedwindow--learning about a mining-camp in the manner permitted to youngladies of her class. 

He expected to find her in a disturbed state of mind, and was preparedto apologise. But when he met the look of distress she turned upon him, he did not know just where to begin. He tried to speak casually--he hadheard she was going away. But she caught him by the hand, exclaiming:"Hal, you are coming with us!"

He did not answer for a moment, but sat down by her. "Have I made yousuffer so much, Jessie?"

He saw tears start into her eyes. "Haven't you _known_ you were makingme suffer? Here I was as Percy's guest; and to have you put suchquestions to me! What could I say? What do I know about the way Mr. Harrigan should run his business?"

"Yes, dear, " he said, humbly. "Perhaps I shouldn't have drawn you intoit. But the matter was so complicated and so sudden. Can't youunderstand that, and forgive me? Everything has turned out so well!"

But she did not think that everything had turned out well. "In the firstplace, for you to be here, in such a plight! And when I thought you werehunting mountain-goats in Mexico!"

He could not help laughing; but Jessie had not even a smile. "Andthen--to have you drag our love into the thing, there before every one!"

"Was that really so terrible, Jessie?"

She looked at him with amazement. That he, Hal Warner, could have donesuch a thing, and not realise how terrible it was! To put her in aposition where she had to break either the laws of love or the laws ofgood-breeding! Why, it had amounted to a public quarrel. It would be thetalk of the town--there was no end to the embarrassment of it!

"But, sweetheart!" argued Hal. "Try to see the reality of thisthing--think about those people in the mine. You really _must_ do that!"

She looked at him, and noticed the new, grim lines that had come uponhis youthful face. Also, she caught the note of suppressed passion inhis voice. He was pale and weary looking, in dirty clothes, his hairunkempt and his face only half washed. It was terrifying--as if he hadgone to war. 

"Listen to me, Jessie, " he insisted. "I want you to know about thesethings. If you and I are ever to make each other happy, you must try togrow up with me. That was why I was glad to have you here--you wouldhave a chance to see for yourself. Now I ask you not to go withoutseeing. "

"But I have to go, Hal. I can't ask Percy Harrigan to stay andinconvenience everybody!"

"You can stay without him. You can ask one of the ladies to chaperonyou. "

She gazed at him in dismay. "Why, Hal! What a thing to suggest!"

"Why so?"

"Think how it would look!"

"I can't think so much about looks, dear--"

She broke in: "Think what Mamma would say!"

"She wouldn't like it, I know--"

"She would be wild! She would never forgive either of us. She wouldnever forgive any one who stayed with me. And what would Percy say, if Icame here as his guest, and stayed to spy on him and his father? Don'tyou see how preposterous it would be?"

Yes, he saw. He was defying all the conventions of her world, and itseemed to her a course of madness. She clutched his hands in hers, andthe tears ran down her cheeks. 

"Hal, " she cried, "I can't leave you in this dreadful place! You looklike a ghost, and a scarecrow, too! I want you to go and get some decentclothes and come home on this train. "

But he shook his head. "It's not possible, Jessie. "

"Why not?"

"Because I have a duty to do here. Can't you understand, dear? All mylife, I've been living on the labour of coal-miners, and I've nevertaken the trouble to go near them, to see how my money was got!"

"But, Hal! These aren't your people! They are Mr. Harrigan's people!"

"Yes, " he said, "but it's all the same. They toil, and we live on theirtoil, and take it as a matter of course. "

"But what can one _do_ about it, Hal?"

"One can understand it, if nothing else. And you see what I was able todo in this case--to get the mine open. "

"Hal, " she exclaimed, "I can't understand you! You've become so cynical, you don't believe in any one! You're quite convinced that theseofficials meant to murder their working people! As if Mr. Harrigan wouldlet his mines be run that way!"

"Mr. Harrigan, Jessie? He passes the collection plate at St. George's!That's the only place you've ever seen him, and that's all you knowabout him. "

"I know what everybody says, Hal! Papa knows him, and my brothers--yes, your own brother, too! Isn't it true that Edward would disapprove whatyou're doing?"

"Yes, dear, I fear so. "

"And you set yourself up against them--against everybody you know! Is itreasonable to think the older people are all wrong, and only you areright? Isn't it at least possible you're making a mistake? Think aboutit--honestly, Hal, for my sake!"

She was looking at him pleadingly; and he leaned forward and took herhand. "Jessie, " he said, his voice trembling, "I _know_ that theseworking people are oppressed; I know it, because I have been one ofthem! And I know that such men as Peter Harrigan, and even my ownbrother, are to blame! And they've got to be faced by some one--they'vegot to be made to see! I've come to see it clearly this summer--that'sthe job I have to do!"

She was gazing at him with her wide-open, beautiful eyes; underneath herprotests and her terror, she was thrilling with awe at this amazingmadman she loved. "They will _kill_ you!" she cried. 

"No, dearest--you don't need to worry about that--I don't think they'llkill me. "

"But they shot at you!"

"No, they shot at Joe Smith, a miner's buddy. They won't shoot at theson of a millionaire--not in America, Jessie. "

"But some dark night--"

"Set your mind at rest, " he said, "I've got Percy tied up in this, andeverybody knows it. There's no way they could kill me without the wholestory's coming out--and so I'm as safe as I would be in my bed at home!"

SECTION 22. 

Hal was still possessed by his idea that Jessie must be taught--she musthave knowledge forced upon her, whether she would or no. The train wouldnot start for a couple of hours, and he tried to think of some use hecould make of that precious interval. He recalled that Rosa Minetti hadreturned to her cabin to attend to her baby. A sudden vision came to himof Jessie in that little home. Rosa was sweet and good, and assuredlyLittle Jerry was a "winner. "

"Sweetheart, " he said, "I wish you'd come for a walk with me. "

"But it's raining, Hal!"

"It won't hurt you to spoil one dress; you have plenty. "

"I'm not thinking of that--"

"I _wish_ you'd come. "

"I don't feel comfortable about it, Hal. I'm here as Percy's guest, andhe mightn't like--"

"I'll ask him if he objects to your taking a stroll, " he suggested, withpretended gravity. 

"No, no! That would make it worse!" Jessie had no humour whatever aboutthese matters. 

"Well, Vivie Cass was out, and some of the others are going. He hasn'tobjected to that. "

"I know, Hal. But he knows they're all right. "

Hal laughed. "Come on, Jessie. Percy won't hold you for my sins! Youhave a long train journey before you, and some fresh air will be goodfor you. "

She saw that she must make some concession to him, if she was to keepany of her influence over him. 

"All right, " she said, with resignation, and disappeared and returnedwith a heavy veil over her face, to conceal her from prying reportorialeyes; also an equipment of mackintosh, umbrella and overshoes, againstthe rain. The two stole out of the car, feeling like a couple ofcriminals. 

Skirting the edge of the throng about the pit-mouth, they came to themuddy, unpaved quarter in which the Italians had their homes; he heldher arm, steering her through the miniature sloughs and creeks. It wasthrilling to him to have her with him thus, to see her sweet face andhear her voice full of love. Many a time he had thought of her here, andtold her in his imagination of his experiences!

He told her now--about the Minetti family, and how he had met Big andLittle Jerry on the street, and how they had taken him in, and then beendriven by fear to let him go again. He told his check-weighman story, and was telling how Jeff Cotton had arrested him; but they came to theMinetti cabin, and the terrifying narrative was cut short. 

It was Little Jerry who came to the door, with the remains of breakfastdistributed upon his cheeks; he stared in wonder at the mysteriouslyveiled figure. Entering, they saw Rosa sitting in a chair nursing herbaby. She rose in confusion; but she did not quite like to turn her backupon her guests, so she stood trying to hide her breast as best shecould, blushing and looking very girlish and pretty. 

Hal introduced Jessie, as an old friend who was interested to meet hisnew friends, and Jessie threw back her veil and sat down. Little Jerrywiped off his face at his mother's command, and then came where he couldstare at this incredibly lovely vision. 

"I've been telling Miss Arthur what good care you took of me, " said Halto Rosa. "She wanted to come and thank you for it. "

"Yes, " added Jessie, graciously. "Anybody who is good to Hal earns mygratitude. "

Rosa started to murmur something; but Little Jerry broke in, with hischeerful voice, "Why you call him Hal? His name's Joe!"

"Ssh!" cried Rosa. But Hal and Jessie laughed--and so the process ofAmericanising Little Jerry was continued. 

"I've got lots of names, " said Hal. "They called me Hal when I was a kidlike you. "

"Did _she_ know you then?" inquired Little Jerry. 

"Yes, indeed. "

"Is she your girl?"

Rosa laughed shyly, and Jessie blushed, and looked charming. Sherealised vaguely a difference in manners. These people accepted theexistence of "girls, " not concealing their interest in the phenomenon. 

"It's a secret, " warned Hal. "Don't you tell on us!"

"I can keep a secret, " said Little Jerry. After a moment's pause headded, dropping his voice, "You gotta keep secrets if you work in NorthValley. "

"You bet your life, " said Hal. 

"My father's a Socialist, " continued the other, addressing Jessie; then, since one thing leads on to another, "My father's a shot-firer. "

"What's a shot-firer?" asked Jessie, by way of being sociable. 

"Jesus!" exclaimed Little Jerry. "Don't you know nothin' about minin'?"

"No, " said Jessie. "You tell me. "

"You couldn't get no coal without a shot-firer, " declared Little Jerry. "You gotta get a good one, too, or maybe you bust up the mine. Myfather's the best they got. "

"What does he do?"

"Well, they got a drill--long, long, like this, all the way across theroom; and they turn it and bore holes in the coal. Sometimes they gotmachines to drill, only we don't like them machines, 'cause it takes themen's jobs. When they got the holes, then the shot-firer comes and setsoff the powder. You gotta have--" and here Little Jerry slowed up, pronouncing each syllable very carefully--"per-miss-i-ble powder--whatdon't make no flame. And you gotta know just how much to put in. If youput in too much, you smash the coal, and the miner raises hell; if youdon't put in enough, you make too much work for him, an' he raises hellagain. So you gotta get a good shot-firer. "

Jessie looked at Hal, and he saw that her dismay was mingled withgenuine amusement. He judged this a good way for her to get hereducation, so he proceeded to draw out Little Jerry on other aspects ofcoal-mining: on short weights and long hours, grafting bosses andcamp-marshals, company-stores and boarding-houses, Socialist agitatorsand union organisers. Little Jerry talked freely of the secrets of thecamp. "It's all right for you to know, " he remarked gravely. "You'reJoe's girl!"

"You little cherub!" exclaimed Jessie. 

"What's a cherub?" was Little Jerry's reply. 

SECTION 23. 

So the time passed in a way that was pleasant. Jessie was completely wonby this little Dago mine-urchin, in spite of all his frightfulcurse-words; and Hal saw that she was won, and was delighted by thesuccess of this experiment in social amalgamation. He could not readJessie's mind, and realise that underneath her genuine delight werereservations born of her prejudices, the instinctive cruelty of caste. Yes, this little mine chap was a cherub, now; but how about when he grewbig? He would grow ugly and coarse-looking, in ten years one would notknow him from any other of the rough and dirty men of the village. Jessie took the fact that common people grow ugly as they mature as aproof that they are, in some deep and permanent way, the inferiors ofthose above them. Hal was throwing away his time and strength, trying tomake them into something which Nature had obviously not intended them tobe! She decided to make that point to Hal on their way back to thetrain. She realised that he had brought her here to educate her; likeall the rest of the world, she resented forcible education, and she wasnot without hope that she might turn the tables and educate Hal. 

Pretty soon Rosa finished nursing the baby, and Jessie remarked thelittle one's black eyes. This topic broke down the mother's shyness, andthey were chatting pleasantly, when suddenly they heard sounds outsidewhich caused them to start up. It was a clamour of women's voices; andHal and Rosa sprang to the door. Just now was a critical time, whenevery one was on edge for news. 

Hal threw open the door and called to those outside "What is it?" Therecame a response, in a woman's voice, "They've found Rafferty!"

"Alive?"

"Nobody knows yet. "

"Where?"

"In Room Seventeen. Eleven of them--Rafferty, and young Flanagan, andJohannson, the Swede. They're near dead--can't speak, they say. Theywon't let anybody near them. "

Other voices broke in; but the one which answered Hal had a differentquality; it was a warm, rich voice, unmistakably Irish, and it heldJessie's attention. "They've got them in the tipple-room, and the womenwant to know about their men, and they won't tell them. They're beatin'them back like dogs!"

There was a tumult of weeping, and Hal stepped out of the cabin, and ina minute or so he entered again, supporting on his arm a girl, clad in afaded blue calico dress, and having a head of very conspicuous red hair. She seemed half fainting, and kept moaning that it was horrible, horrible. Hal led her to a chair, and she sank into it and hid her facein her hands, sobbing, talking incoherently between her sobs. 

Jessie stood looking at this girl. She felt the intensity of herexcitement, and shared it; yet at the same time there was something inJessie that resented it. She did not wish to be upset about things likethis, which she could not help. Of course these unfortunate people weresuffering; but--what a shocking lot of noise the poor thing was making!A part of the poor thing's excitement was rage, and Jessie realisedthat, and resented it still more. It was as if it were a personalchallenge to her; the same as Hal's fierce social passions, which sobewildered and shocked her. 

"They're beatin' the women back like dogs!" the girl repeated. 

"Mary, " said Hal, trying to soothe her, "the doctors will be doing theirbest. The women couldn't expect to crowd about them!"

"Maybe they couldn't; but that's not it, Joe, and ye know it! They beenbringin' up dead bodies, some they found where the explosion was--blownall to pieces. And they won't let anybody see them. Is that because ofthe doctors? No, it ain't! It's because they want to tell lies about thenumber killed! They want to count four or five legs to a man! And that'swhat's drivin' the women crazy! I saw Mrs. Zamboni, tryin' to get intothe shed, and Pete Hanun caught her by the breasts and shoved her back. 'I want my man!' she screamed. 'Well, what do you want him for? He's allin pieces!' 'I want the pieces!' 'What good'll they do you? Are yougoin' to eat him?'"

There were cries of horror now, even from Jessie; and the strange girlhid her face in her hands and began to sob again. Hal put his handgently on her arm. 

"Mary, " he pleaded, "it's not so bad--at least they're getting thepeople out. "

"How do ye know what they're doin'? They might be sealin' up parts ofthe mine down below! That's what makes it so horrible--nobody knowswhat's happenin'! Ye should have heard poor Mrs. Rafferty screamin'. Joe, it went through me like a knife. Just think, it's been half an hoursince they brought him up, and the poor lady can't be told if her man isalive. "

SECTION 24. 

Hal stood for a few moments in thought. He was surprised that suchthings should be happening while Percy Harrigan's train was in thevillage. He was considering whether he should go to Percy, or whether ahint to Cotton or Cartwright would not be sufficient. 

"Mary, " he said, in a quiet voice, "you needn't distress yourself so. Wecan get better treatment for the women, I'm sure. "

But her sobbing went on. "What can ye do? They're bound to have theirway!"

"No, " said Hal. "There's a difference now. Believe me--something can bedone. I'll step over and have a word with Jeff Cotton. "

He started towards the door; but there came a cry: "Hal!" It was Jessie, whom he had almost forgotten in his sudden anger at the bosses. 

At her protest he turned and looked at her; then he looked at Mary. Hesaw the latter's hands fall from her tear-stained face, and herexpression of grief give way to one of wonder. "Hal!"

"Excuse me, " he said, quickly. "Miss Burke, this is my friend, MissArthur. " Then, not quite sure if this was a satisfactory introduction, he added, "Jessie, this is my friend, Mary. "

Jessie's training could not fail in any emergency. "Miss Burke, " shesaid, and smiled with perfect politeness. But Mary said nothing, and thestrained look did not leave her face. 

In the first excitement she had almost failed to notice this stranger;but now she stared, and realisation grew upon her. Here was a girl, beautiful with a kind of beauty hardly to be conceived of in amining-camp; reserved, yet obviously expensive--even in a mackintosh andrubber-shoes. Mary was used to the expensiveness of Mrs. O'Callahan, buthere was a new kind of expensiveness, subtle and compelling, strangelyunconscious. And she laid claim to Joe Smith, the miner's buddy! Shecalled him by a name hitherto unknown to his North Valley associates! Itneeded no word from Little Jerry to guide Mary's instinct; she knew in aflash that here was the "other girl. "

Mary was seized with sudden acute consciousness of the blue calicodress, patched at the shoulder and stained with grease-spots; of herhands, big and rough with hard labour; of her feet, clad in shoes wornsideways at the heel, and threatening to break out at the toes. And asfor Jessie, she too had the woman's instinct; she too saw a girl who wasbeautiful, with a kind of beauty of which she did not approve, but whichshe could not deny--the beauty of robust health, of abounding animalenergy. Jessie was not unaware of the nature of her own charms, havingbeen carefully educated to conserve them; nor did she fail to make noteof the other girl's handicaps--the patched and greasy dress, the bigrough hands, the shoes worn sideways. But even so, she realised that"Red Mary" had a quality which she lacked--that beside this wild rose ofa mining-camp, she, Jessie Arthur, might possibly seem a garden flower, fragile and insipid. 

She had seen Hal lay his hand upon Mary's arm, and heard her speak tohim. She called him Joe! And a sudden fear had leaped into Jessie'sheart. 

Like many girls who have been delicately reared, Jessie Arthur knew morethan she admitted, even to herself. She knew enough to realise thatyoung men with ample means and leisure are not always saints andascetics. Also, she had heard the remark many times made that thesewomen of the lower orders had "no morals. " Just what did such a remarkmean? What would be the attitude of such a girl as MaryBurke--full-blooded and intense, dissatisfied with her lot in life--to aman of culture and charm like Hal? She would covet him, of course; nowoman who knew him could fail to covet him. And she would try to stealhim away from his friends, from the world to which he belonged, thefuture of happiness and ease to which he was entitled. She would havepowers--dark and terrible powers, all the more appalling to Jessiebecause they were mysterious. Might they possibly be able to overcomeeven the handicap of a dirty calico dress, of big rough hands and shoesworn sideways?

These reflections, which have taken many words to explain, came toJessie in one flash of intuition. She understood now, all at once, theincomprehensible phenomenon--that Hal should leave friends and home andcareer, to come and live amid this squalor and suffering! She saw theold drama of the soul of man, heaven and hell contending for mastery ofit; and she knew that she was heaven, and that this "Red Mary" was hell. 

She looked at Hal. He seemed to her so fine and true; his face wasfrank, he was the soul of honourableness. No, it was impossible tobelieve that he had yielded to such a lure! If that had been the case, he would never have brought her to this cabin, he would never have takena chance of her meeting the girl. No; but he might be struggling againsttemptation, he might be in the toils of it, and only half aware of it. He was a man, and therefore blind; he was a dreamer, and it would belike him to idealise this girl, calling her naïve and primitive, thinking that she had no wiles! Jessie had come just in time to savehim! And she would fight to save him--using wiles more subtle than thoseat the command of any mining-camp hussy!

SECTION 25. 

It was the surging up in Jessie Arthur of that instinctive self, thecreature of hereditary cruelty, of the existence of which Hal had noidea. She drew back, and there was a quiet _hauteur_ in her tone as shespoke. "Hal, come here, please. "

He came; and she waited until he was close enough for intimacy, and thensaid, "Have you forgotten you have to take me back to the train?"

"Can't you come with me for a few minutes?" he pleaded. "It would havesuch a good effect if you did. "

"I can't go into that crowd, " she answered; and suddenly her voicetrembled, and the tears came into her sweet brown eyes. "Don't you know, Hal, that I couldn't stand such terrible sights? This poor girl--she isused to them--she is hardened! But I--I--oh, take me away, take me away, dear Hal!" This cry of a woman for protection came with a familiar echoto Hal's mind. He did not stop to think--he was moved by itinstinctively. Yes, he had exposed the girl he loved to suffering! Hehad meant it for her own good, but even so, it was cruel!

He stood close to her, and saw the love-light in her eyes; he saw thetears, the trembling of her sensitive chin. She swayed to him, and hecaught her in his arms--and there, before these witnesses, she let himpress her to him, while she sobbed and whispered her distress. She hadbeen shy of caresses hitherto, watched and admonished by an experiencedmother; certainly she had never before made what could by the remoteststretch of the imagination be considered an advance towards him. But nowshe made it, and there was a cry of triumph in her soul as she saw thathe responded to it. He was still hers--and these low people should knowit, this "other girl" should know it!

Yet, in the midst of this very exultation, Jessie Arthur really felt thegrief she expressed for the women of North Valley; she really felthorror at the story of Mrs. Zamboni's "man": so intricate is the soul ofwoman, so puzzling that faculty, older than the ages, which enables herto be hysterical, and at the same time to be guided in the use of thathysteria by deep and infallible calculation. 

But she made Hal realise that it was necessary for him to take her away. He turned to Mary Burke and said, "Miss Arthur's train is leaving in ashort time. I'll have to take her hack, and then I'll go to thepit-mouth with you and see what I can do. "

"Very well, " Mary answered; and her voice was hard and cold. But Hal didnot notice this. He was a man, and not able to keep up with the emotionsof one woman--to say nothing of two women at the same time. 

He took Jessie out, and all the way hack to the train she fought adesperate fight to get him away from here. She no longer even suggestedthat he get decent clothing; she was willing for him to come as he was, in his coal-stained mining-jumpers, in the private train of the CoalKing's son. She besought him in the name of their affection. Shethreatened him that if he did not come, this might be the last time theywould meet. She even broke down in the middle of the street, and let himstand there in plain sight of miners' wives and children, and ofpossible newspaper reporters, holding her in his arms and comfortingher. 

Hal was much puzzled; but he would not give way. The idea of going offin Percy Harrigan's train had come to seem morally repulsive to him; hehated Percy Harrigan's train, and Percy Harrigan also, he declared. AndJessie saw that she was only making him unreasonable--that before longhe might be hating her. With her instinctive _savoir faire_, she broughtup his suggestion that she might find some one to chaperon her, and staywith him at North Valley until he was ready to come away. 

Hal's heart leaped at that; he had no idea what was in her mind--thecertainty that no one of the ladies of the Harrigan party would run therisk of offending her host by staying under such circumstances. 

"You mean it, sweetheart?" he cried, happily. 

She answered, "I mean that I love you, Hal. "

"All right, dear!" he said. "We'll see if we can arrange it. "

But as they walked on, she managed, without his realising it, to causehim to reflect upon the effect of her staying. She was willing to do it, if it was what he wanted; but it would injure, perhaps irrevocably, hisstanding with her parents. They would telegraph her to come at once; andif she did not obey, they would come by the next train. So on, until atlast Hal was moved to withdraw his own suggestion. After all, what wasthe use of her staying, if her mind was on the people at home, if shewould simply keep him in hot water? Before the conversation was over Halhad become clear in his mind that North Valley was no place for JessieArthur, and that he had been a fool to think he could bring the twotogether. 

She tried to get him to promise to leave as soon as the last man hadbeen brought out of the mine. He answered that he intended to leavethen, unless some new emergency should arise. She tried to get anunqualified promise; and failing in that, when they had nearly got tothe train she suddenly made a complete surrender. Let him do what hepleased--but let him remember that she loved him, that she needed him, that she could not do without him. No matter what he might do, no matterwhat people might say about him, she believed in him, she would stand byhim. Hal was deeply touched, and took her in his arms again and kissedher tenderly under the umbrella, in the presence of the wondering staresof several urchins with coal-smutted faces. He pledged anew his love forher, assuring her that no amount of interest in mining-camps should eversteal him from her. 

Then he put her on the train, and shook hands with the departing guests. He was so very sombre and harassed-looking that the young men forbore to"kid" him as they would otherwise have done. He stood on thestation-platform and saw the train roll away--and felt, to his owndesperate bewilderment, that he hated these friends of his boyhood andyouth. His reason protested against it; he told himself there wasnothing they could do, no reason on earth for them to stay--and yet hehated them. They were hurrying off to dance and flirt at the countryclub--while he was going back to the pit-mouth, to try to get Mrs. Zamboni the right to inspect the pieces of her "man"!

BOOK FOUR

THE WILL OF KING COAL

SECTION 1. 

The pit of death was giving up its secrets. The hoist was busy, andcage-load after cage-load came up, with bodies dead and bodies livingand bodies only to be classified after machines had pumped air into themfor a while. Hal stood in the rain and watched the crowd and thoughtthat he had never witnessed a scene so compelling to pity and terror. The silence that would fall when any one appeared who might have news totell! The sudden shriek of anguish from some woman whose hopes werestruck dead! The moans of sympathy that ran through the crowd, alternating with cheers at some good tidings, shaking the souls of themultitude as a storm of wind shakes a reed-field!

And the stories that ran through the camp--brought up from theunderground world--stories of incredible sufferings, and of still moreincredible heroisms! Men who had been four days without food or water, yet had resisted being carried out of the mine, proposing to stay andhelp rescue others! Men who had lain together in the darkness andsilence, keeping themselves alive by the water which seeped from therocks overhead, taking turns lying face upwards where the drops fell, orwetting pieces of their clothing and sucking out the moisture! Membersof the rescue parties would tell how they knocked upon the barriers, andheard the faint answering signals of the imprisoned men; how madly theytoiled to cut through, and how, when at last a little hole appeared, they heard the cries of joy, and saw the eyes of men shining from thedarkness, while they waited, gasping, for the hole to grow bigger, sothat water and food might be passed in!

In some places they were fighting the fire. Long lines of hose had beensent down, and men were moving forward foot by foot, as the smoke andsteam were sucked out ahead of them by the fan. Those who did this workwere taking their lives in their hands, yet they went withouthesitation. There was always hope of finding men in barricaded roomsbeyond. 

Hal sought out Jeff Cotton at the entrance to the tipple-room, which hadbeen turned into a temporary hospital. It was the first time the two hadmet since the revelation in Percy's car, and the camp-marshal's facetook on a rather sheepish grin. "Well, Mr. Warner, you win, " heremarked; and after a little arguing he agreed to permit a couple ofwomen to go into the tipple-room and make a list of the injured, and goout and give the news to the crowd. Hal went to the Minettis to ask MaryBurke to attend to this; but Rosa said that Mary had gone out after heand Miss Arthur had left, and no one knew where she was. So Hal went toMrs. David, who consented to get a couple of friends, and do the workwithout being called a "committee. " "I won't have any damnedcommittees!" the camp-marshal had declared. 

So the night passed, and part of another day. A clerk from the officecame to Hal with a sealed envelope, containing a telegram, addressed incare of Cartwright. "I most urgently beg of you to come home at once. Itwill be distressing to Dad if he hears what has happened, and it willnot be possible to keep the matter from him for long. "

As Hal read, he frowned; evidently the Harrigans had got busy withoutdelay! He went to the office and telephoned his answer. "Am planning toleave in a day or two. Trust you will make an effort to spare Dad untilyou have heard my story. "

This message troubled Hal. It started in his mind long arguments withhis brother, and explanations and apologies to his father. He loved theold man tenderly. What a shame if some emissary of the Harrigans were toget to him to upset him with misrepresentations!

Also these ideas had a tendency to make Hal homesick; they brought morevividly to his thoughts the outside world, with its physicalallurements--there being a limit to the amount of unwholesome meals anddirty beds and repulsive sights a man of refinement can force himself toendure. Hal found himself obsessed by a vision of a club dining-room, with odours of grilled steaks and hot rolls, and the colours of saladsand fresh fruits and cream. The conviction grew suddenly strong in himthat his work in North Valley was nearly done!

Another night passed, and another day. The last of the bodies had beenbrought out, and the corpses shipped down to Pedro for one of those bigwholesale funerals which are a feature of mine-life. The fire was out, and the rescue-crews had given place to a swarm of carpenters andtimbermen, repairing the damage and making the mine safe. The reportershad gone; Billy Keating having clasped Hal's hand, and promised to meethim for luncheon at the club. An agent of the "Red Cross" was on hand, and was feeding the hungry out of Mrs. Curtis's subscription-list. Whatmore was there for Hal to do--except to bid good-bye to his friends, andassure them of his help in the future?

First among these friends was Mary Burke, whom he had had no chance totalk to since the meeting with Jessie. He realised that Mary had beendeliberately avoiding him. She was not in her home, and he went toinquire at the Rafferties', and stopped for a good-bye chat with the oldwoman whose husband he had saved. 

Rafferty was going to pull through. His wife had been allowed in to seehim, and tears rolled down her shrunken cheeks as she told about it. Hehad been four days and nights blocked up in a little tunnel, with nofood or water, save for a few drops of coffee which he had shared withother men. He could still not speak, he could hardly move a hand; butthere was life in his eyes, and his look had been a greeting from thesoul she had loved and served these thirty years and more. Mrs. Raffertysang praises to the Rafferty God, who had brought him safely throughthese perils; it seemed obvious that He must be more efficient than theProtestant God of Johannson, the giant Swede, who had lain by Rafferty'sside and given up the ghost. 

But the doctor had stated that the old Irishman would never be good towork again; and Hal saw a shadow of terror cross the sunshine of Mrs. Rafferty's rejoicing. How could a doctor say a thing like that? Raffertywas old, to be sure; but he was tough--and could any doctor imagine howhard a man would try who had a family looking to him? Sure, he was notthe one to give up for a bit of pain now and then! Besides him, therewas only Tim who was earning; and though Tim was a good lad, and workedsteady, any doctor ought to know that a big family could not be keptgoing on the wages of one eighteen-year-old pit-boy. As for the otherlads, there was a law that said they were too young to work. Mrs. Rafferty thought there should be some one to put a little sense into theheads of them that made the laws--for if they wanted to forbid childrento work in coal-mines, they should surely provide some other way to feedthe children. 

Hal listened, agreeing sympathetically, and meantime watching her, andlearning more from her actions than from her words. She had beenobedient to the teachings of her religion, to be fruitful and multiply;she had fed three grown sons into the maw of industry, and had stilleight children and a man to care for. Hal wondered if she had everrested a single minute of daylight in all her fifty-four years. Certainly not while he had been in her house! Even now, while praisingthe Rafferty God and blaming the capitalist law-makers, she was gettinga supper, moving swiftly, silently, like a machine. She was lean as anold horse that has toiled across a desert; the skin over her cheek-boneswas tight as stretched rubber, and cords stood out in her wrists likepiano-wires. 

And now she was cringing before the spectre of destitution. He askedwhat she would do about it, and saw the shadow of terror cross her faceagain. There was one recourse from starvation, it seemed--to have herchildren taken from her, and put in some institution! At the mention ofthis, one of the special nightmares of the poor, the old woman began tosob and cry again that the doctor was wrong; he would see, and Hal wouldsee--Old Rafferty would be back at his job in a week or two!

SECTION 2. 

Hal went out on the street again. It was the hour which would have beensunset in a level region; the tops of the mountains were touched with apurple light, and the air was fresh and chill with early fall. Down thedarkening streets he saw a gathering of men; there was shouting, andpeople running towards the place, so he hurried up, with the thought inhis mind, "What's the matter now?" There were perhaps a hundred mencrying out, their voices mingling like the sound of waves on the sea. Hecould make out words: "Go on! Go on! We've had enough of it! Hurrah!"

"What's happened?" he asked, of some one on the outskirts; and the man, recognising him, raised a cry which ran through the throng: "Joe Smith!He's the boy for us! Come in here, Joe! Give us a speech!"

But even while Hal was asking questions, trying to get the situationclear, other shouts had drowned out his name. "We've had enough of themwalking over us!" And somebody cried, more loudly, "Tell us about it!Tell it again! Go on!"

A man was standing upon the steps of a building at one side. Hal staredin amazement; it was Tim Rafferty. Of all people in the world--Tim, thelight-hearted and simple, Tim of the laughing face and the merry Irishblue eyes! Now his sandy hair was tousled and his features distortedwith rage. "Him near dead!" he yelled. "Him with his voice gone, andcouldn't move his hand! Eleven years he's slaved for them, and nearkilled in an accident that's their own fault--every man in this crowdknows it's their own fault, by God!"

"Sure thing! You're right!" cried a chorus of voices "Tell it all!"

"They give him twenty-five dollars and his hospital expenses--andwhat'll his hospital expenses be? They'll have him out on the streetagain before he's able to stand. You know that--they done it to PeteCullen!"

"You bet they did!"

"Them damned lawyers in there--gettin' 'em to sign papers when theydon't know what they're doin'. An' me that might help him can't getnear! By Christ, I say it's too much! Are we slaves, or are we dogs, that we have to stand such things?"

"We'll stand no more of it!" shouted one. "We'll go in there and see toit ourselves!"

"Come on!" shouted another. "To hell with their gunmen!"

Hal pushed his way into the crowd. "Tim!" he cried. "How do you knowthis?"

"There's a fellow in there seen it. "

"Who?"

"I can't tell you--they'd fire him; but it's somebody you know as wellas me. He come and told me. They're beatin' me old father out ofdamages!"

"They do it all the time!" shouted Wauchope, an English miner at Hal'sside. "That's why they won't let us in there. "

"They done the same thing to my father!" put in another voice. Halrecognised Andy, the Greek boy. 

"And they want to start Number Two in the mornin'!" yelled Tim. "Who'llgo down there again? And with Alec Stone, him that damns the men andsaves the mules!"

"We'll not go back in them mines till they're safe!" shouted Wauchope. "Let them sprinkle them--or I'm done with the whole business. "

"And let 'em give us our weights!" cried another. "We'll have acheck-weighman, and we'll get what we earn!"

So again came the cry, "Joe Smith! Give us a speech, Joe! Soak it to'em! You're the boy!"

Hal stood helpless, dismayed. He had counted his fight won--and here wasanother beginning! The men were looking to him, calling upon him as theboldest of the rebels. Only a few of them knew about the sudden changein his fortunes. 

Even while he hesitated, the line of battle had swept past him; theEnglishman, Wauchope, sprang upon the steps and began to address thethrong. He was one of the bowed and stunted men, but in this emergencyhe developed sudden lung-power. Hal listened in astonishment; thissilent and dull-looking fellow was the last he would have picked for afighter. Tom Olson had sounded him out, and reported that he would hearnothing, so they had dismissed him from mind. And here he was, shoutingterrible defiance!

"They're a set of robbers and murderers! They rob us everywhere we turn!For my part, I've had enough of it! Have you?"

There was a roar from every one within reach of his voice. They had allhad enough. 

"All right, then--we'll fight them!"

"Hurrah! Hurrah! We'll have our rights!"

Jeff Cotton came up on the run, with "Bud" Adams and two or three of thegunmen at his heels. The crowd turned upon them, the men on theoutskirts clenching their fists, showing their teeth like angry dogs. Cotton's face was red with rage, but he saw that he had a serious matterin hand; he turned and went for more help--and the mob roared withdelight. Already they had begun their fight! Already they had won theirfirst victory!

SECTION 3. 

The crowd moved down the street, shouting and cursing as it went. Someone started to sing the Marseillaise, and others took it up, and thewords mounted to a frenzy:

 "To arms! To arms, ye brave! March on, march on, all hearts resolved On victory or death!"

There were the oppressed of many nations in this crowd; they sang in ascore of languages, but it was the same song. They would sing a fewbars, and the yells of others would drown them out. "March on! March on!All hearts resolved!" Some rushed away in different directions to spreadthe news, and very soon the whole population of the village was on thespot; the men waving their caps, the women lifting up their hands andshrieking--or standing terrified, realising that babies could not be fedupon revolutionary singing. 

Tim Rafferty was raised up on the shoulders of the crowd and made totell his story once more. While he was telling it, his old mother camerunning, and her shrieks rang above the clamour: "Tim! Tim! Come downfrom there! What's the matter wid ye?" She was twisting her handstogether in an agony of fright; seeing Hal, she rushed up to him. "Gethim out of there, Joe! Sure, the lad's gone crazy! They'll turn us outof the camp, they'll give us nothin' at all--and what'll become of us?Mother of God, what's the matter with the b'y?" She called to Tim again;but Tim paid no attention, if he heard her. Tim was on the march toVersailles!

Some one shouted that they would go to the hospital to protect theinjured men from the "damned lawyers. " Here was something definite, andthe crowd moved in that direction, Hal following with the stragglers, the women and children, and the less bold among the men. He noticed someof the clerks and salaried employés of the company; presently he sawJeff Cotton again, and heard him ordering these men to the office to getrevolvers. 

"Big Jack" David came along with Jerry Minetti, and Hal drew back toconsult with them. Jerry was on fire. It had come--the revolt he hadbeen looking forward to for years! Why were they not making speeches, getting control of the men and organising them?

Jack David voiced uncertainty. They had to consider if this outburstcould mean anything permanent. 

Jerry answered that it would mean what they chose to make it mean. Ifthey took charge, they could guide the men and hold them together. Wasn't that what Tom Olson had wanted?

No, said the big Welshman, Olson had been trying to organise the mensecretly, as preliminary to a revolt in all the camps. That was quiteanother thing from an open movement, limited to one camp. Was there anyhope of success for such a movement? If not, they would be foolish tostart, they would only be making sure of their own expulsion. 

Jerry turned to Hal. What did he think?

And so at last Hal had to speak. It was hard for him to judge, he said. He knew so little about labour matters. It was to learn about them thathe had come to North Valley. It was a hard thing to advise men to submitto such treatment as they had been getting; but on the other hand, anyone could see that a futile outbreak would discourage everybody, andmake it harder than ever to organise them. 

So much Hal spoke; but there was more in his mind, which he could notspeak. He could not say to these men, "I am a friend of yours, but I amalso a friend of your enemy, and in this crisis I cannot make up my mindto which side I owe allegiance. I'm bound by a duty of politeness to themasters of your lives; also, I'm anxious not to distress the girl I amto marry!" No, he could not say such things. He felt himself a traitorfor having them in his mind, and he could hardly bring himself to lookthese men in the eye. Jerry knew that he was in some way connected withthe Harrigans; probably he had told the rest of Hal's friends, and theyhad been discussing it and speculating about the meaning of it. Supposethey should think he was a spy?

So Hal was relieved when Jack David spoke firmly. They would only beplaying the game of the enemy if they let themselves be drawn inprematurely. They ought to have the advice of Tom Olson. 

Where was Olson? Hal asked; and David explained that on the day when Halhad been thrown out of camp, Olson had got his "time" and set out forSheridan, the local headquarters of the union, to report the situation. He would probably not come back; he had got his little group together, he had planted the seed of revolt in North Valley. 

They discussed back and forth the problem of getting advice. It wasimpossible to telephone from North Valley without everything they saidbeing listened to; but the evening train for Pedro left in a fewminutes, and "Big Jack" declared that some one ought to take it. Thetown of Sheridan was only fifteen or twenty miles from Pedro, and therewould be a union official there to advise them; or they might use thelong distance telephone, and persuade one of the union leaders inWestern City to take the midnight train, and be in Pedro next morning. 

Hal, still hoping to withdraw himself, put this task off on Jack David. They emptied out the contents of their pockets, so that he might havefunds enough, and the big Welshman darted off to catch the train. In themeantime Jerry and Hal agreed to keep in the background, and to seek outthe other members of their group and warn them to do the same. 

SECTION 4. 

This programme was a convenient one for Hal; but as he was to findalmost at once, it had been adopted too late. He and Jerry started afterthe crowd, which had stopped in front of one of the company buildings;and as they came nearer they heard some one making a speech. It was thevoice of a woman, the tones rising clear and compelling. They could notsee the speaker, because of the throng, but Hal recognised her voice, and caught his companion by the arm. "It's Mary Burke!"

Mary Burke it was, for a fact; and she seemed to have the crowd in akind of frenzy. She would speak one sentence, and there would come aroar from the throng; she would speak another sentence, and there wouldcome another roar. Hal and Jerry pushed their way in, to where theycould make out the words of this litany of rage. 

"Would they go down into the pit themselves, do ye think?"

"They would not!"

"Would they be dressed in silks and laces, do ye think?"

"They would not!"

"Would they have such fine soft hands, do ye think?"

"They would not!"

"Would they hold themselves too good to look at ye?"

"They would not! They would not!"

And Mary swept on: "If only ye'd stand together, they'd come to ye ontheir knees to ask for terms! But ye're cowards, and they play on yourfears! Ye're traitors, and they buy ye out! They break ye into pieces, they do what they please with ye--and then ride off in their privatecars, and leave gunmen to beat ye down and trample on your faces! Howlong will ye stand it? How long?"

The roar of the mob rolled down the street and back again. "We'll notstand it! We'll not stand it!" Men shook their clenched fists, womenshrieked, even children shouted curses. "We'll fight them! We'll slaveno more for them!"

And Mary found a magic word. "We'll have a union!" she shouted. "We'llget together and stay together! If they refuse us our rights, we'll knowwhat to answer--we'll have a _strike!_"

There was a roar like the crashing of thunder in the mountains. Yes, Mary had found the word! For many years it had not been spoken aloud inNorth Valley, but now it ran like a flash of gunpowder through thethrong. "Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!" It seemed as if they wouldnever have enough of it. Not all of them had understood Mary's speech, but they knew this word, "Strike!" They translated and proclaimed it inPolish and Bohemian and Italian and Greek. Men waved their caps, womenwaved their aprons--in the semi-darkness it was like some strange kindof vegetation tossed by a storm. Men clasped one another's hands, themore demonstrative of the foreigners fell upon one another's necks. "Strike! Strike! Strike!"

"We're no longer slaves!" cried the speaker. "We're men--and we'll liveas men! We'll work as men--or we'll not work at all! We'll no longer bea herd of cattle, that they can drive about as they please! We'llorganise, we'll stand together--shoulder to shoulder! Either we'll wintogether, or we'll starve and die together! And not a man of us willyield, not a man of us will turn traitor! Is there anybody here who'llscab on his fellows?"

There was a howl, which might have come from a pack of wolves. Let theman who would scab on his fellows show his dirty face in that crowd!

"Ye'll stand by the union?"

"We'll stand by it!"

"Ye'll swear?"

"We'll swear!"

She flung her arms to heaven with a gesture of passionate adjuration. "Swear it on your lives! To stick to the rest of us, and never a man ofye give way till ye've won! Swear! _Swear!_"

Men stood, imitating her gesture, their hands stretched up to the sky. "We swear! We swear!"

"Ye'll not let them break ye! Ye'll not let them frighten ye!"

"No! No!"

"Stand by your word, men! Stand by it! 'Tis the one chance for yourwives and childer!" The girl rushed on--exhorting with leaping words andpassionate out-flung arms--a tall, swaying figure of furious rebellion. Hal listened to the speech and watched the speaker, marvelling. Here wasa miracle of the human soul, here was hope born of despair! And thecrowd around her--they were sharing the wonderful rebirth; their wavingarms, their swaying forms responded to Mary as an orchestra to the batonof a leader. 

A thrill shook Hal--a thrill of triumph! He had been beaten downhimself, he had wanted to run from this place of torment; but now therewas hope in North Valley--now there would be victory, freedom!

Ever since he had come to the coal-country, the knowledge had beengrowing in Hal that the real tragedy of these people's lives was nottheir physical suffering, but their mental depression--the dull, hopeless misery in their minds. This had been driven into hisconsciousness day by day, both by what he saw and by what others toldhim. Tom Olson had first put it into words: "Your worst troubles areinside the heads of the fellows you're trying to help!" How could hopebe given to men in this environment of terrorism? Even Hal himself, young and free as he was, had been brought to despair. He came from aclass which is accustomed to say, "Do this, " or "Do that, " and it willbe done. But these mine-slaves had never known that sense of power, ofcertainty; on the contrary, they were accustomed to having their effortsbalked at every turn, their every impulse to happiness or achievementcrushed by another's will. 

But here was this miracle of the human soul! Here was hope in NorthValley! Here were the people rising--and Mary Burke at their head! Itwas his vision come true--Mary Burke with a glory in her face, and herhair shining like a crown of gold! Mary Burke mounted upon a snow-whitehorse, wearing a robe of white, soft and lustrous--like Joan of Arc, ora leader in a suffrage parade! Yes, and she was at the head of a host, he had the music of its marching in his ears!

Underneath Hal's jesting words had been a real vision, a real faith inthis girl. Since that day when he had first discovered her, a wild roseof the mining-camp taking in the family wash, he had realised that shewas no pretty young working-girl, but a woman with a mind and apersonality. She saw farther, she felt more deeply than the average ofthese wage-slaves. Her problem was the same as theirs, yet more complex. When he had wanted to help her and had offered to get her a job, she hadmade clear that what she craved was not merely relief from drudgery, buta life with intellectual interest. So then the idea had come to him thatMary should become a teacher, a leader of her people. She loved them, she suffered for them and with them, and at the same time she had a mindthat was capable of seeking out the causes of their misery. But when hehad gone to her with plans of leadership, he had been met by hercorroding despair; her pessimism had seemed to mock his dreams, hercontempt for these mine-slaves had belittled his efforts in their behalfand in hers. 

And now, here she was taking up the role he had planned for her! Hervery soul was in this shouting throng, he thought. She had lived thelives of these people, shared their every wrong, been driven torebellion with them. Being a mere man, Hal missed one important pointabout this startling development; he did not realise that Mary'seloquence was addressed, not merely to the Rafferties and the Wauchopes, and the rest of the North Valley mine-slaves, but to a certainmagazine-cover girl, clad in a mackintosh and a pale green hat and asoft and filmy and horribly expensive motoring veil!

SECTION 5. 

Mary's speech was brought to a sudden end. A group of the men had moveddown the street, and there arose a disturbance there. The noise of itswelled louder, and more people began to move in that direction. Maryturned to look, and all at once the whole throng surged down the street. 

The trouble was at the hospital. In front of this building was a porch, and on it Cartwright and Alec Stone were standing, with a group of theclerks and office-employés, among whom Hal saw Predovich, Johnson, thepostmaster, and Si Adams. At the foot of the steps stood Tim Rafferty, with a swarm of determined men at his back. He was shouting, "We wantthem lawyers out of there!"

The superintendent himself had undertaken to parley with him. "There areno lawyers in here, Rafferty. "

"We don't trust you!" And the crowd took up the cry: "We'll see forourselves!"

"You can't go into this building, " declared Cartwright. 

"I'm goin' to see my father!" shouted Tim. "I've got a right to see myfather, ain't I?"

"You can see him in the morning. You can take him away, if you want to. We've no desire to keep him. But he's asleep now, and you can't disturbthe others. "

"You weren't afraid to disturb them with your damned lawyers!" And therewas a roar of approval--so loud that Cartwright's denial could hardly beheard. 

"There have been no lawyers near him, I tell you. "

"It's a lie!" shouted Wauchope. "They been in there all day, and youknow it. We mean to have them out. "

"Go on, Tim!" cried Andy, the Greek boy, pushing his way to the front. "Go on!" cried the others; and thus encouraged, Rafferty started up thesteps. 

"I mean to see my father!" As Cartwright caught him by the shoulder, heyelled, "Let me go, I say!"

It was evident that the superintendent was trying his best not to useviolence; he was ordering his own followers back at the same time thathe was holding the boy. But Tim's blood was up; he shoved forward, andthe superintendent, either striking him or trying to ward off a blow, threw him backwards down the steps. There was an uproar of rage from thethrong; they surged forward, and at the same time some of the men on theporch drew revolvers. 

The meaning of that situation was plain enough. In a moment more the mobwould be up the steps, and there would be shooting. And if once thathappened, who could guess the end? Wrought up as the crowd was, it mightnot stop till it had fired every company building, perhaps not until ithad murdered every company representative. 

Hal had resolved to keep in the back-ground, but he saw that to keep inthe back-ground at that moment would be an act of cowardice, almost acrime. He sprang forward, his cry rising above the clamour. "Stop, men!Stop!"

There was probably no other man in North Valley who could have gothimself heeded at that moment. But Hal had their confidence, he hadearned the right to be heard. Had he not been to prison for them, hadthey not seen him behind the bars? "Joe Smith!" The cry ran from one endof the excited throng to the other. 

Hal was fighting his way forward, shoving men to one side, imploring, commanding silence. "Tim Rafferty! Wait!" And Tim, recognising thevoice, obeyed. 

Once clear of the press, Hal sprang upon the porch, where Cartwright didnot attempt to interfere with him. 

"Men!" he cried. "Hold on a moment! This isn't what you want! You don'twant a fight!" He paused for an instant; but he knew that no merenegative would hold them at that moment. They must be told what they didwant. Just now he had learned the particular words that would carry, andhe proclaimed them at the top of his voice: "What you want is a union! A_strike!_"

He was answered by a roar from the crowd, the loudest yet. Yes, that waswhat they wanted! A strike! And they wanted Joe Smith to organise it, tolead it. He had been their leader once, he had been thrown out of campfor it. How he had got back they were not quite clear--but here he was, and he was their darling. Hurrah for him! They would follow him to helland back!

And wasn't he the boy with the nerve! Standing there on the porch of thehospital, right under the very noses of the bosses, making a unionspeech to them, and the bosses never daring to touch him! The crowd, realising this situation, went wild with delight. The English-speakingmen shouted assent to his words; and those who could not understand, shouted because the others did. 

They did not want fighting--of course not! Fighting would not help them!What would help them was to get together, and stand a solid body of freemen. There would be a union committee, able to speak for all of them, tosay that no man would go to work any more until justice was secured!They would have an end to the business of discharging men because theyasked for their rights, of blacklisting men and driving them out of thedistrict because they presumed to want what the laws of the stateawarded them!

SECTION 6. 

How long could a man expect to stand on the steps of a company building, with a super and a pit-boss at his back, and organise a union ofmine-workers? Hal realised that he must move the crowd from thatperilous place. 

"You'll do what I say, now?" he demanded; and when they agreed inchorus, he added the warning: "There'll be no fighting! And no drinking!If you see any man drunk to-night, sit on him and hold him down!"

They laughed and cheered. Yes, they would keep straight. Here was a jobfor sober men, you bet!

"And now, " Hal continued, "the people in the hospital. We'll have acommittee go in and see about them. No noise--we don't want to disturbthe sick men. We only want to make sure nobody else is disturbing them. Some one will go in and stay with them. Does that suit you?"

Yes, that suited them. 

"All right, " said Hal. "Keep quiet for a moment. "

And he turned to the superintendent. "Cartwright, " said he, "we want acommittee to go in and stay with our people. " Then, as thesuperintendent started to expostulate, he added, in a low voice, "Don'tbe a fool, man! Don't you see I'm trying to save your life?"

The superintendent knew how bad it would be for discipline to let Halcarry his point with the crowd; but also he saw the immediatedanger--and he was not sure of the courage and shooting ability ofbook-keepers and stenographers. 

"Be quick, man!" exclaimed Hal. "I can't hold these people long. If youdon't want hell breaking loose, come to your senses. "

"All right, " said Cartwright, swallowing his dignity. 

And Hal turned to the men and announced the concession. There was ashout of triumph. 

"Now, who's to go?" said Hal, when he could he heard again; and helooked about at the upturned faces. There Were Tim and Wauchope, themost obvious ones; but Hal decided to keep them under his eye. Hethought of Jerry Minetti and of Mrs. David--but remembered his agreementwith "Big Jack, " to keep their own little group in the back-ground. Thenhe thought of Mary Burke; she had already done herself all the harm shecould do, and she was a person the crowd would trust. He called her, andcalled Mrs. Ferris, an American woman in the crowd. The two came up thesteps, and Hal turned to Cartwright. 

"Now, let's have an understanding, " he said. "These people are going into stay with the sick men, and to talk to them if they want to, andnobody's going to give them any orders but the doctors and nurses. Isthat right?"

"All right, " said the superintendent, sullenly. 

"Good!" said Hal. "And for God's sake have a little sense and stand byyour word; this crowd has had all it can endure, and if you do any moreto provoke it, the consequences will be on you. And while you're aboutit, see that the saloons are closed and kept closed until this troubleis settled. And keep your people out of the way--don't let them go aboutshowing their guns and making faces. "

Without waiting to hear the superintendent's reply, Hal turned to thethrong, and held up his hand for silence. "Men, " he said, "we have a bigjob to do--we're going to organise a union. And we can't do it here infront of the hospital. We've made too much noise already. Let's go offquietly, and have our meeting on the dump in back of the power-house. Does that suit you?"

They answered that it suited them; and Hal, having seen the two womenpassed safely into the hospital, sprang down from the porch to lead theway. Jerry Minetti came to his side, trembling with delight; and Halclutched him by the arm and whispered, excitedly, "Sing, Jerry! Singthem some Dago song!"

SECTION 7. 

They got to the place appointed without any fighting. And meantime Halhad worked out in his mind a plan for communicating with this polyglothorde. He knew that half the men could not understand a word of English, and that half the remainder understood very little. Obviously, if he wasto make matters clear to them, they must be sorted out according tonationality, and a reliable interpreter found for each group. 

The process of sorting proved a slow one, involving no end of shoutingand good-natured jostling--Polish here, Bohemian here, Greek here, Italian here! When this job had been done, and a man found from eachnationality who understood enough English to translate to his fellows, Hal started in to make a speech. But before he had spoken manysentences, pandemonium broke loose. All the interpreters startedinterpreting at the same time--and at the top of their lungs; it waslike a parade with the bands close together! Hal was struck dumb; thenhe began to laugh, and the various audiences began to laugh; the oratorsstopped, perplexed--then they too began to laugh. So wave after wave ofmerriment rolled over the throng; the mood of the assembly was changedall at once, from rage and determination to the wildest hilarity. Hallearned his first lesson in the handling of these hordes of child-likepeople, whose moods were quick, whose tempers were balanced upon a finepoint. 

It was necessary for him to make his speech through to the end, and thenmove the various audiences apart, to be addressed by the variousinterpreters. But then arose a new difficulty. How could any one controlthese floods of eloquence? How be sure that the message was not beingdistorted? Hal had been warned by Olson of company detectives who posedas workers, gaining the confidence of men in order to incite them toviolence. And certainly some of these interpreters were violent-looking, and one's remarks sounded strange in their translations!

There was the Greek orator, for example; a wild man, with wild hair andeyes, who tore all his passions to tatters. He stood upon a barrel-head, with the light of two pit-lamps upon him, and some two score of hiscompatriots at his feet; he waved his arms, he shook his fists, heshrieked, he bellowed. But when Hal, becoming uneasy, went over andasked another English-speaking Greek what the orator was saying, theanswer was that he was promising that the law should be enforced inNorth Valley!

Hal stood watching this perfervid little man, a study in thepossibilities of gesture. He drew back his shoulders and puffed out hischest, almost throwing himself backwards off the barrel-head; he wassaying that the miners would be able to live like men. He crouched downand bowed his head, moaning; he was telling them what would happen ifthey gave up. He fastened his fingers in his long black hair and begantugging desperately; he pulled, and then stretched out his empty hands;he pulled again, so hard that it almost made one cry out with pain towatch him. Hal asked what that was for; and the answer was, "He say, 'Stand by union! Pull one hair, he come out; pull all hairs, no comeout'!" It carried one back to the days of Aesop and his fables!

Tom Olson had told Hal something about the technique of an organiser, who wished to drill these ignorant hordes. He had to repeat and repeat, until the dullest in his audience had grasped his meaning, had got intohis head the all-saving idea of solidarity. When the various orators hadtalked themselves out, and the audiences had come back to thecinder-heap, Hal made his speech all over again, in words of onesyllable, in the kind of pidgin-English which does duty in the camps. Sometimes he would stop to reinforce it with Greek or Italian or Slavishwords he had picked up. Or perhaps his eloquence would inflame some oneof the interpreters afresh, and he would wait while the man shouted afew sentences to his compatriots. It was not necessary to consider thepossibility of boring any one, for these were patient and long-sufferingmen, and now desperately in earnest. 

They were going to have a union; they were going to do the thing inregular form, with membership cards and officials chosen by ballot. SoHal explained to them, step by step. There was no use organising unlessthey meant to stay organised. They would choose leaders, one from eachof the principal language groups; and these leaders would meet and drawup a set of demands, which would be submitted in mass-meeting, andratified, and then presented to the bosses with the announcement thatuntil these terms were granted, not a single North Valley worker wouldgo back into the pits. 

Jerry Minetti, who knew all about unions, advised Hal to enroll the menat once; he counted on the psychological effect of having each man comeforward and give in his name. But here at once they met a difficultyencountered by all would-be organisers--lack of funds. There must bepencils and paper for the enrollment; and Hal had emptied his pocketsfor Jack David! He was forced to borrow a quarter, and send a messengeroff to the store. It was voted by the delegates that each member as hejoined the union should be assessed a dime. There would have to be sometelegraphing and telephoning if they were going to get help from theoutside world. 

A temporary committee was named, consisting of Tim Rafferty, Wauchopeand Hal, to keep the lists and the funds, and to run things untilanother meeting could be held on the morrow; also a body-guard of adozen of the sturdiest and most reliable men were named to stay by thecommittee. The messenger came back with pads and pencils, and sitting onthe ground by the light of pit-lamps, the interpreters wrote down thenames of the men who wished to join the union, each man in turn pledginghis word for solidarity and discipline. Then the meeting was declaredadjourned till daylight of the morrow, and the workers scattered totheir homes to sleep, with a joy and sense of power such as few of themhad ever known in their lives before. 

SECTION 8. 

The committee and its body-guard repaired to the dining-room ofReminitsky's, where they stretched themselves out on the floor; no oneattempted to interfere with them, and while the majority snoredpeacefully, Hal and a small group sat writing out the list of demandswhich were to be submitted to the bosses in the morning. It was arrangedthat Jerry should go down to Pedro by the early morning train, to getinto touch with Jack David and the union officials, and report to themthe latest developments. Because the officials were sure to havedetectives following them, Hal warned Jerry to go to MacKellar's house, and have MacKellar bring "Big Jack" to meet him there. Also Jerry musthave MacKellar get the _Gazette_ on the long distance phone, and tellBilly Keating about the strike. 

A hundred things like this Hal had to think of; his head was a-buzz withthem, so that when he lay down to sleep he could not. He thought aboutthe bosses, and what they might be doing. The bosses would not besleeping, he felt sure!

And then came thoughts about his private-car friends; about thestrangeness of this plight into which he had got himself! He laughedaloud in a kind of desperation as he recalled Percy's efforts to get himaway from here. And poor Jessie! What could he say to her now?

The bosses made no move that night; and when morning came, the strikershurried to the meeting-place, some of them without even stopping forbreakfast. They came tousled and unkempt, looking anxiously at theirfellows, as if unable to credit the memory of the bold thing they haddone on the night before. But finding the committee and its body-guardon hand and ready for business, their courage revived, they felt againthe wonderful sentiment of solidarity which had made men of them. Prettysoon speech-making began, and cheering and singing, which brought outthe laggards and the cowards. So in a short while the movement was infull swing, with practically every man, woman and child among theworkers present. 

Mary Burke came from the hospital, where she had spent the night. Shelooked weary and bedraggled, but her spirit of battle had not slumped. She reported that she had talked with some of the injured men, and thatmany of them had signed "releases, " whereby the company protected itselfagainst even the threat of a lawsuit. Others had refused to sign, andMary had been vehement in warning them to stand out. Two other womenvolunteered to go to the hospital, in order that she might have a chanceto rest; but Mary did not wish to rest, she did not feel as if she couldever rest again. 

The members of the newly-organised union proceeded to elect officers. They sought to make Hal president, but he was shy of binding himself inthat irrevocable way, and succeeded in putting the honour off onWauchope. Tim Rafferty was made treasurer and secretary. Then acommittee was chosen to go to Cartwright with the demands of the men. Itincluded Hal, Wauchope, and Tim; an Italian named Marcelli, whom Jerryhad vouched for; a representative of the Slavs and one of theGreeks--Rusick and Zammakis, both of them solid and faithful men. Finally, with a good deal of laughter and cheering, the meeting voted toadd Mary Burke to this committee. It was a new thing to have a woman insuch a role, but Mary was the daughter of a miner and the sister of abreaker-boy, and had as good a right to speak as any one in NorthValley. 

SECTION 9. 

Hal read the document which had been prepared the night before. Theydemanded the right to have a union without being discharged for it. Theydemanded a check-weighman, to be elected by the men themselves. Theydemanded that the mines should be sprinkled to prevent explosions, andproperly timbered to prevent falls. They demanded the right to trade atany store they pleased. Hal called attention to the fact that every oneof these demands was for a right guaranteed by the laws of the state;this was a significant fact, and he urged the men not to include otherdemands. After some argument they voted down the proposition of theradicals, who wanted a ten per cent. Increase in wages. Also they voteddown the proposition of a syndicalist-anarchist, who explained to themin a jumble of English and Italian that the mines belonged to them, andthat they should refuse all compromise and turn the bosses outforthwith. 

While this speech was being delivered, young Rovetta pushed his waythrough the crowd and drew Hal to one side. He had been down by therailroad-station and seen the morning train come in. From it haddescended a crowd of thirty or forty men, of that "hard citizen" typewhich every miner in the district could recognise at the first glance. Evidently the company officials had been keeping the telephone-wiresbusy that night; they were bringing in, not merely this train-load ofguards, but automobile loads from other camps--from the Northeasterndown the canyon, and from Barela, in a side canyon over the mountain. 

Hal told this news to the meeting, which received it with howls of rage. So that was the bosses' plan! Hot-heads sprang upon the cinder-heap, half a dozen of them trying to make speeches at once. The leaders had tosuppress these too impetuous ones by main force; once more Hal gave thewarning of "No fighting!" They were going to have faith in their union;they were going to present a solid front to the company, and the companywould learn the lesson that intimidation would not win a strike. 

So it was agreed, and the committee set out for the company's office, Wauchope carrying in his hand the written demands of the meeting. Behindthe committee marched the crowd in a solid mass; they packed the streetin front of the office, while the heroic seven went up the steps andpassed into the building. Wauchope made inquiry for Mr. Cartwright, anda clerk took in the message. 

They stood waiting; and meanwhile, one of the office-people, coming infrom the street, beckoned to Hal. He had an envelope in his hand, andgave it over without a word. It was addressed, "Joe Smith, " and Halopened it, and found within a small visiting card, at which he stared. "Edward S. Warner, Jr. "!

For a moment Hal could hardly believe the evidence of his eyesight. Edward in North Valley! Then, turning the card over, he read, in hisbrother's familiar handwriting, "I am at Cartwright's house. I must seeyou. The matter concerns Dad. Come instantly. "

Fear leaped into Hal's heart. What could such a message mean?

He turned quickly to the committee and explained. "My father's an oldman, and had a stroke of apoplexy three years ago. I'm afraid he may bedead, or very ill. I must go. "

"It's a trick!" cried Wauchope excitedly. 

"No, not possibly, " answered Hal. "I know my brother's handwriting. Imust see him. "

"Well, " declared the other, "we'll wait. We'll not see Cartwright untilyou get back. "

Hal considered this. "I don't think that's wise, " he said. "You can dowhat you have to do just as well without me. "

"But I wanted you to do the talking!"

"No, " replied Hal, "that's your business, Wauchope. You are thepresident of the union. You know what the men want, as well as I do; youknow what they complain of. And besides, there's not going to be anyneed of talking with Cartwright. Either he's going to grant our demandsor he isn't. "

They discussed the matter back and forth. Mary Burke insisted that theywere pulling Hal away just at the critical moment! He laughed as heanswered. She was as good as any man when it came to an argument. IfWauchope showed signs of weakening, let her speak up!

SECTION 10. 

So Hal hurried off, and climbed the street which led to thesuperintendent's house, a concrete bungalow set upon a little elevationoverlooking the camp. He rang the bell, and the door opened, and in theentrance stood his brother. 

Edward Warner was eight years older than Hal; the perfect type of theyoung American business man. His figure was erect and athletic, hisfeatures were regular and strong, his voice, his manner, everythingabout him spoke of quiet decision, of energy precisely directed. As arule, he was a model of what the tailor's art could do, but just nowthere was something abnormal about his attire as well as his manner. 

Hal's anxiety had been increasing all the way up the street. "What's thematter with Dad?" he cried. 

"Dad's all right, " was the answer--"that is, for the moment. "

"Then what--?"

"Peter Harrigan's on his way back from the East. He's due in WesternCity to-morrow. You can see that something will be the matter with Dadunless you quit this business at once. "

Hal had a sudden reaction from his fear. "So that's all!" he exclaimed. 

His brother was gazing at the young miner, dressed in sooty blueoveralls, his face streaked with black, his wavy hair all mussed. "Youwired me you were going to leave here, Hal!"

"So I was; but things happened that I couldn't foresee. There's astrike. "

"Yes; but what's that got to do with it?" Then, with exasperation in hisvoice, "For God's sake, Hal, how much farther do you expect to go?"

Hal stood for a few moments, looking at his brother. Even in a tensionas he was, he could not help laughing. "I know how all this must seem toyou, Edward. It's a long story; I hardly know how to begin. "

"No, I suppose not, " said Edward, drily. 

And Hal laughed again. "Well, we agree that far, at any rate. What I washoping was that we could talk it all over quietly, after the excitementwas past. When I explain to you about conditions in this place--"

But Edward interrupted. "Really, Hal, there's no use of such anargument. I have nothing to do with conditions in Peter Harrigan'scamps. "

The smile left Hal's face. "Would you have preferred to have meinvestigate conditions in the Warner camps?" Hal had tried to suppresshis irritation, but there was simply no way these two could get along. "We've had our arguments about these things, Edward, and you've alwayshad the best of me--you could tell me I was a child, it was presumptuousof me to dispute your assertions. But now--well, I'm a child no longer, and we'll have to meet on a new basis. "

Hal's tone, more than his words, made an impression. Edward thoughtbefore he spoke. "Well, what's your new basis?"

"Just now I'm in the midst of a strike, and I can hardly stop toexplain. "

"You don't think of Dad in all this madness?"

"I think of Dad, and of you too, Edward; but this is hardly the time--"

"If ever in the world there was a time, this is it!"

Hal groaned inwardly. "All right, " he said, "sit down. I'll try to giveyou some idea how I got swept into this. "

He began to tell about the conditions he had found in this stronghold ofthe "G. F. C. " As usual, when he talked about it, he became absorbed inits human aspects; a fervour came into his tone, he was carried on, ashe had been when he tried to argue with the officials in Pedro. But hiseloquence was interrupted, even as it had been then; he discovered thathis brother was in such a state of exasperation that he could not listento a consecutive argument. 

It was the old, old story; it had been thus as far back as Hal couldremember. It seemed one of the mysteries of nature, how she could havebrought two such different temperaments out of the same parentage. Edward was practical and positive; he knew what he wanted in the world, and he knew how to get it; he was never troubled with doubts, nor withself-questioning, nor with any other superfluous emotions; he could notunderstand people who allowed that sort of waste in their mentalprocesses. He could not understand people who got "swept into things. "

In the beginning, he had had with Hal the prestige of the elder brother. He was handsome as a young Greek god, he was strong and masterful;whether he was flying over the ice with sure, strong strokes, or cuttingthe water with his glistening shoulders, or bringing down a partridgewith the certainty and swiftness of a lightning stroke, Edward was theincarnation of Success. When he said that one's ideas were "rot, " whenhe spoke with contempt of "mollycoddles"--then indeed one suffered insoul, and had to go back to Shelley and Ruskin to renew one's courage. 

The questioning of life had begun very early with Hal; there seemed tobe something in his nature which forced him to go to the roots ofthings; and much as he looked up to his wonderful brother, he had beenmade to realise that there were sides of life to which this brother wasblind. To begin with, there were religious doubts; the distresses ofmind which plague a young man when first it dawns upon him that thefaith he has been brought up in is a higher kind of fairy-tale. Edwardhad never asked such questions, apparently. He went to church, becauseit was the thing to do; more especially because it was pleasing to theyoung lady he wished to marry to have him put on stately clothes, andescort her to a beautiful place of music and flowers and perfumes, whereshe would meet her friends, also in stately clothes. How abnormal itseemed to Edward that a young man should give up this pleasant custom, merely because he could not be sure that Jonah had swallowed a whale!

But it was when Hal's doubts attacked his brother's week-dayreligion--the religion of the profit-system--that the controversybetween them had become deadly. At first Hal had known nothing aboutpractical affairs, and it had been Edward's duty to answer hisquestions. The prosperity of the country had been built up by strongmen; and these men had enemies--evil-minded persons, animated byjealousy and other base passions, seeking to tear down the mightystructure. At first this devil-theory had satisfied the boy; but lateron, as he had come to read and observe, he had been plagued by doubts. In the end, listening to his brother's conversation, and reading thewritings of so-called "muck-rakers, " the realisation was forced upon himthat there were two types of mind in the controversy--those who thoughtof profits, and those who thought of human beings. 

Edward was alarmed at the books Hal was reading; he was still morealarmed when he saw the ideas Hal was bringing home from college. Theremust have been some strange change in Harrigan in a few years; no onehad dreamed of such ideas when Edward was there! No one had writtensatiric songs about the faculty, or the endowments of eminentphilanthropists!

In the meantime Edward Warner Senior had had a paralytic stroke, andEdward Junior had taken charge of the company. Three years of this hadgiven him the point of view of a coal-operator, hard and set for alife-time. The business of a coal-operator was to buy his labour cheap, to turn out the maximum product in the shortest time, and to sell theproduct at the market price to parties whose credit was satisfactory. Ifa concern was doing that, it was a successful concern; for any one tomention that it was making wrecks of the people who dug the coal, was tobe guilty of sentimentality and impertinence. 

Edward had heard with dismay his brother's announcement that he meant tostudy industry by spending his vacation as a common labourer. However, when he considered it, he was inclined to think that the idea might notbe such a bad one. Perhaps Hal would not find what he was looking for;perhaps, working with his hands, he might get some of the nonsenseknocked out of his head!

But now the experiment had been made, and the revelation had burst uponEdward that it had been a ghastly failure. Hal had not come to realisethat labour was turbulent and lazy and incompetent, needing a stronghand to rule it; on the contrary, he had become one of these turbulentones himself! A champion of the lazy and incompetent, an agitator, afomenter of class-prejudice, an enemy of his own friends, and of hisbrother's business associates!

Never had Hal seen Edward in such a state of excitement. There wassomething really abnormal about him, Hal realised; it puzzled himvaguely while he talked, but he did not understand it until his brothertold how he had come to be here. He had been attending a dinner-dance atthe home of a friend, and Percy Harrigan had got him on the telephone athalf past eleven o'clock at night. Percy had had a message fromCartwright, to the effect that Hal was leading a riot in North Valley;Percy had painted the situation in such lurid colours that Edward hadmade a dash and caught the midnight train, wearing his evening clothes, and without so much as a tooth-brush with him!

Hal could hardly keep from bursting out laughing. His brother, hispunctilious and dignified brother, alighting from a sleeping-car atseven o'clock in the morning, wearing a dress suit and a silk hat! Andhere he was, Edward Warner Junior, the fastidious, who never paid lessthan a hundred and fifty dollars for a suit of clothes, clad in a"hand-me-down" for which he had expended twelve dollars and forty-eightcents in a "Jew-store" in a coal-town!

SECTION 11. 

But Edward would not stop for a single smile; his every faculty wasabsorbed in the task he had before him, to get his brother out of thispredicament, so dangerous and so humiliating. Hal had come to a townowned by Edward's business friends, and had proceeded to meddle in theiraffairs, to stir up their labouring people and imperil their property. That North Valley was the property of the General Fuel Company--notmerely the mines and the houses, but likewise the people who lived inthem--Edward seemed to have no doubt whatever; Hal got only exclamationsof annoyance when he suggested any other point of view. Would there havebeen any town of North Valley, if it had not been for the capital andenergy of the General Fuel Company? If the people of North Valley didnot like the conditions which the General Fuel Company offered them, they had one simple and obvious remedy--to go somewhere else to work. But they stayed; they got out the General Fuel Company's coal, they tookthe General Fuel Company's wages--

"Well, they've stopped taking them now, " put in Hal. 

All right, that was their affair, replied Edward. But let them stopbecause they wanted to--not because outside agitators put them up to it. At any rate, let the agitators not include a member of the Warnerfamily!

The elder brother pictured old Peter Harrigan on his way back from theEast; the state of unutterable fury in which he would arrive, the stormhe would raise in the business world of Western City. Why, it wasunimaginable, such a thing had never been heard of! "And right whenwe're opening up a new mine--when we need every dollar of credit we canget!"

"Aren't we big enough to stand off Peter Harrigan?" inquired Hal. 

"We have plenty of other people to stand off, " was the answer. "We don'thave to go out of our way to make enemies. "

Edward spoke, not merely as the elder brother, but also as the money-manof the family. When the father had broken down from over-work, and hadbeen changed in one terrible hour from a driving man of affairs into achildish and pathetic invalid, Hal had been glad enough that there wasone member of the family who was practical; he had been perfectlywilling to see his brother shoulder these burdens, while he went off tocollege, to amuse himself with satiric songs. Hal had noresponsibilities, no one asked anything of him--except that he would notthrow sticks into the wheels of the machine his brother was running. "You are living by the coal industry! Every dollar you spend comes fromit--"

"I know it! I know it!" cried Hal. "That's the thing that torments me!The fact that I'm living upon the bounty of such wage-slaves--"

"Oh, cut it out!" cried Edward. "That's not what I mean!"

"I know--but it's what _I_ mean! From now on I mean to know about thepeople who work for me, and what sort of treatment they get. I'm nolonger your kid-brother, to be put off with platitudes. "

"You know ours are union mines, Hal--"

"Yes, but what does that mean? How do we work it? Do we give the mentheir weights?"

"Of course! They have their check-weighmen. "

"But then, how do we compete with the operators in this district, whopay for a ton of three thousand pounds?"

"We manage it--by economy. "

"Economy? I don't see Peter Harrigan wasting anything here!" Hal pausedfor an answer, but none came. "Do we buy the check-weighmen? Do we bribethe labour leaders?"

Edward coloured slightly. "What's the use of being nasty, Hal? You knowI don't do dirty work. "

"I don't mean to be nasty, Edward; but you must know that many abusiness-man can say he doesn't do dirty work, because he has others doit for him. What about politics, for instance? Do we run a machine, andput our clerks and bosses into the local offices?"

Edward did not answer, and Hal persisted, "I mean to know these things!I'm not going to be blind any more!"

"All right, Hal--you can know anything you want; but for God's sake, notnow! If you want to be taken for a man, show a man's common sense!Here's Old Peter getting back to Western City to-morrow night! Don't youknow that he'll be after me, raging like a mad bull? Don't you know thatif I tell him I can do nothing--that I've been down here and tried topull you away--don't you know he'll go after Dad?"

Edward had tried all the arguments, and this was the only one thatcounted. "You must keep him away from Dad!" exclaimed Hal. 

"You tell me that!" retorted the other. "And when you know Old Peter!Don't you know he'll get at him, if he has to break down the door of thehouse? He'll throw the burden of his rage on that poor old man! You'vebeen warned about it clearly; you know it may be a matter of life anddeath to keep Dad from getting excited. I don't know what he'd do; maybehe'd fly into a rage with you, maybe he'd defend you. He's old and weak, he's lost his grip on things. Anyhow, he'd not let Peter abuse you--andlike as not he'd drop dead in the midst of the dispute! Do you want tohave that on your conscience, along with the troubles of your workingmenfriends?"

SECTION 12. 

Hal sat staring in front of him, silent. Was it a fact that every manhad something in his life which palsied his arm, and struck him helplessin the battle for social justice?

When he spoke again, it was in a low voice. "Edward, I'm thinking abouta young Irish boy who works in these mines. He, too, has a father; andthis father was caught in the explosion. He's an old man, with a wifeand seven other children. He's a good man, the boy's a good boy. Let metell you what Peter Harrigan has done to them!"

"Well, " said Edward, "whatever it is, it's all right, you can help them. They won't need to starve. "

"I know, " said Hal, "but there are so many others; I can't help themall. And besides, can't you see, Edward--what I'm thinking about is notcharity, but _justice_. I'm sure this boy, Tim Rafferty, loves hisfather just exactly as much as I love my father; and there are other oldmen here, with sons who love them--"

"Oh, Hal, for Christ's sake!" exclaimed Edward, in a sort of explosion. He had no other words to express his impatience. "Do you expect to takeall the troubles in the world on your shoulders?" And he sprang up andcaught the other by the arm. "Boy, you've got to come away from here!"

Hal got up, without answering. He seemed irresolute, and his brotherstarted to draw him towards the door. "I've got a car here. We can get atrain in an hour--"

Hal saw that he had to speak firmly. "No, Edward, " he said. "I can'tcome just yet. "

"I tell you you _must_ come!"

"I can't. I made these men a promise!"

"In God's name--what are these men to you? Compared with your ownfather!"

"I can't explain it, Edward. I've talked for half an hour, and I don'tthink you've even heard me. Suffice it to say that I see these peoplecaught in a trap--and one that my whole life has helped to make. I can'tleave them in it. What's more, I don't believe Dad would want me to doit, if he understood. "

The other made a last effort at self-control. "I'm not going to call youa sentimental fool. Only, let me ask you one plain question. What do youthink you can _do_ for these people?"

"I think I can help to win decent conditions for them. "

"Good God!" cried Edward; he sighed, in his agony of exasperation. "InPeter Harrigan's mines! Don't you realise that he'll pick them up andthrow them out of here, neck and crop--the whole crew, every man in thetown, if necessary?"

"Perhaps, " answered Hal; "but if the men in the other mines should jointhem--if the big union outside should stand by them--"

"You're dreaming, Hal! You're talking like a child! I talked to thesuperintendent here; he had telegraphed the situation to Old Peter, andhad just got an answer. Already he's acted, no doubt. "

"Acted?" echoed Hal. "How do you mean?" He was staring at his brother insudden anxiety. 

"They were going to turn the agitators out, of course. "

"_What?_ And while I'm here talking!"

Hal turned toward the door. "You knew it all the time!" he exclaimed. "You kept me here deliberately!"

He was starting away, but Edward sprang and caught him. "What could youhave done?"

"Turn me loose!" cried Hal, angrily. 

"Don't be a fool, Hal! I've been trying to keep you out of the trouble. There may be fighting. "

Edward threw himself between Hal and the door, and there was a sharpstruggle. But the elder man was no longer the athlete, the young bronzedgod; he had been sitting at a desk in an office, while Hal had beendoing hard labour. Hal threw him to one side, and in a moment more hadsprung out of the door, and was running down the slope. 

SECTION 13. 

Coming to the main street of the village, Hal saw the crowd in front ofthe office. One glance told him that something had happened. Men wererunning this way and that, gesticulating, shouting. Some were coming inhis direction, and when they saw him they began to yell to him. Thefirst to reach him was Klowoski, the little Pole, breathless; gaspingwith excitement. "They fire our committee!"

"Fire them?"

"Fire 'em out! Down canyon!" The little man was waving his arms in wildgestures; his eyes seemed about to start out of his head. "Take 'em off!Whole bunch fellers--gunmen! People see them--come out back door. Gotever'body's arm tied. Gunmen fellers hold 'em, don't let 'em holler, can't do nothin'! Got them cars waitin'--what you call?--"

"Automobiles?"

"Sure, got three! Put ever'body in, quick like that--they go down roadlike wind! Go down canyon, all gone! They bust our strike!" And thelittle Pole's voice ended in a howl of despair. 

"No, they won't bust our strike!" exclaimed Hal. "Not yet!"

Suddenly he was reminded of the fact that his brother had followedhim--puffing hard, for the run had been strenuous. He caught Hal by thearm, exclaiming, "Keep out of this, I tell you!"

Thus while Hal was questioning Klowoski, he was strugglinghalf-unconsciously, to free himself from his brother's grasp. Suddenlythe matter was forced to an issue, for the little Polack emitted a crylike an angry cat, and went at Edward with fingers outstretched likeclaws. Hal's dignified brother would have had to part with his dignity, if Hal had not caught Klowoski's onrush with his other arm. "Let himalone!" he said. "It's my brother!" Whereupon the little man fell backand stood watching in bewilderment. 

Hal saw Androkulos running to him. The Greek boy had been in the streetback of the office, and had seen the committee carried off; nine peoplehad been taken--Wauchope, Tim Rafferty, and Mary Burke, Marcelli, Zammakis and Rusick, and three others who had served as interpreters onthe night before. It had all been done so quickly that the crowd hadscarcely realised what was happening. 

Now, having grasped the meaning of it, the men were beside themselveswith rage. They shook their fists, shouting defiance to a group ofofficials and guards who were visible upon the porch of theoffice-building. There was a clamour of shouts for revenge. 

Hal could see instantly the dangers of the situation; he was like a manwatching the burning fuse of a bomb. Now, if ever, this polyglot hordemust have leadership--wise and cool and resourceful leadership. 

The crowd, discovering his presence, surged down upon him like a wave. They gathered round him, howling. They had lost the rest of theircommittee, but they still had Joe Smith. Joe Smith! Hurrah for Joe! Letthe gunmen take him, if they could! They waved their caps, they tried tolift him upon their shoulders, so that all could see him. 

There was clamour for a speech, and Hal started to make his way to thesteps of the nearest building, with Edward holding on to his coat. Edward was jostled; he had to part with his dignity--but he did not partwith his brother. And when Hal was about to mount the steps, Edward madea last desperate effort, shouting into his ear, "Wait a minute! Wait!Are you going to try to talk to this mob?"

"Of course. Don't you see there'll be trouble if I don't?"

"You'll get yourself killed! You'll start a fight, and get a lot ofthese poor devils shot! Use your common sense, Hal; the company hasbrought in guards, and they are armed, and your people aren't. "

"That's exactly why I have to speak!"

The discussion was carried on under difficulties, the elder brotherclinging to the younger's arm, while the younger sought to pull free, and the mob shouted with a single voice, "Speech! Speech!" There weresome near by who, like Klowoski, did not relish having this strangerinterfering with their champion, and showed signs of a disposition to"mix in"; so at last Edward gave up the struggle, and the orator mountedthe steps and faced the throng. 

SECTION 14. 

Hal raised his arms as a signal for silence. 

"Boys, " he cried, "they've kidnapped our committee. They think they'llbreak our strike that way--but they'll find they've made a mistake!"

"They will! Right you are!" roared a score of voices. 

"They forget that we've got a union. Hurrah for our North Valley union!"

"Hurrah! Hurrah!" The cry echoed to the canyon-walls. 

"And hurrah for the big union that will back us--the United Mine-Workersof America!"

Again the yell rang out; again and again. "Hurrah for the union! Hurrahfor the United Mine-Workers!" A big American miner, Ferris, was in thefront of the throng, and his voice beat in Hal's ears like asteam-siren. 

"Boys, " Hal resumed, when at last he could be heard, "use your brains amoment. I warned you they would try to provoke you! They would likenothing better than to start a scrap here, and get a chance to smash ourunion! Don't forget that, boys, if they can make you fight, they'llsmash the union, and the union is our only hope!"

Again came the cry: "Hurrah for the union!" Hal let them shout it intwenty languages, until they were satisfied. 

"Now, boys, " he went on, at last, "they've shipped out our committee. They may ship me out in the same way--"

"No, they won't!" shouted voices in the crowd. And there was a bellow ofrage from Ferris. "Let them try it! We'll burn them in their beds!"

"But they _can_ ship me out!" argued Hal. "You _know_ they can beat usat that game! They can call on the sheriff, they can get the soldiers, if necessary! We can't oppose them by force--they can turn out everyman, woman and child in the village, if they choose. What we have to getclear is that even that won't crush our union! Nor the big unionoutside, that will be backing us! We can hold out, and make them take usback in the end!"

Some of Hal's friends, seeing what he was trying to do, came to hissupport. "No fighting! No violence! Stand by the union!" And he went onto drive the lesson home; even though the company might evict them, thebig union of the four hundred and fifty thousand mine-workers of thecountry would feed them, it would call out the rest of the workers inthe district in sympathy. So the bosses, who thought to starve and cowthem into submission, would find their mines lying permanently idle. They would be forced to give way, and the tactics of solidarity wouldtriumph. 

So Hal went on, recalling the things Olson had told him, and puttingthem into practice. He saw hope in their faces again, dispelling themood of resentment and rage. 

"Now, boys, " said he, "I'm going in to see the superintendent for you. I'll be your committee, since they've shipped out the rest. "

The steam-siren of Ferris bellowed again: "You're the boy! Joe Smith!"

"All right, men--now mind what I say! I'll see the super, and then I'llgo down to Pedro, where there'll be some officers of the UnitedMine-workers this morning. I'll tell them the situation, and ask them toback you. That's what you want, is it?"

That was what they wanted. "Big union!"

"All right. I'll do the best I can for you, and I'll find some way toget word to you. And meantime you stand firm. The bosses will tell youlies, they'll try to deceive you, they'll send spies and trouble-makersamong you--but you hold fast, and wait for the big union. "

Hal stood looking at the cheering crowd. He had time to note some of thefaces upturned to him. Pitiful, toil-worn faces they were, each makingits separate appeal, telling its individual story of deprivation anddefeat. Once more they were transfigured, shining with that wonderfulnew light which he had seen for the first time the previous evening. Ithad been crushed for a moment, but it flamed up again; it would neverdie in the hearts of men--once they had learned the power it gave. Nothing Hal had yet seen moved him so much as this new birth ofenthusiasm. A beautiful, a terrible thing it was!

Hal looked at his brother, to see how he had been moved. What he saw onhis brother's face was satisfaction, boundless relief. The matter hadturned out all right! Hal was coming away!

Hal turned again to the men; somehow, after his glance at Edward, theyseemed more pitiful than ever. For Edward typified the power they werefacing--the unseeing, uncomprehending power that meant to crush them. The possibility of failure was revealed to Hal in a flash of emotion, overwhelming him. He saw them as they would be, when no leader was athand to make speeches to them. He saw them waiting, their life-longhabit of obedience striving to reassert itself; a thousand fearsbesetting them, a thousand rumours preying upon them--wild beasts set onthem by their cunning enemies. They would suffer, not merely forthemselves, but for their wives and children--the very same pangs ofdread that Hal suffered when he thought of one old man up in WesternCity, whose doctors had warned him to avoid excitement. 

If they stood firm, if they kept their bargain with their leader, theywould be evicted from their homes, they would face the cold of thecoming winter, they would face hunger and the black-list. And he, meantime--what would he be doing? What was his part of the bargain? Hewould interview the superintendent for them, he would turn them over tothe "big union"--and then he would go off to his own life of ease andpleasure. To eat grilled steaks and hot rolls in a perfectly appointedclub, with suave and softly-moving servitors at his beck! To dance atthe country club with exquisite creatures of chiffon and satin, ofperfume and sweet smiles and careless, happy charms! No, it was tooeasy! He might call that his duty to his father and brother, but hewould know in his heart that it was treason to life; it was the devil, taking him onto a high mountain and showing him all the kingdoms of theearth!

Moved by a sudden impulse, Hal raised his hands once more. "Boys, " hesaid, "we understand each other now. You'll not go back to work till thebig union tells you. And I, for my part, will stand by you. Your causeis my cause, I'll go on fighting for you till you have your rights, tillyou can live and work as men! Is that right?"

"That's right! That's right!"

"Very good, then--we'll swear to it!" And Hal raised his hands, and themen raised theirs, and amid a storm of shouts, and a frantic waving ofcaps, he made them the pledge which he knew would bind his ownconscience. He made it deliberately, there in his brother's presence. This was no mere charge on a trench, it was enlisting for a war! Buteven in that moment of fervour, Hal would have been frightened had herealised the period of that enlistment, the years of weary and desperateconflict to which he was pledging his life. 

SECTION 15. 

Hal descended from his rostrum, and the crowds made way for him, andwith his brother at his side he went down the street to the officebuilding, upon the porch of which the guards were standing. His progresswas a triumphal one; rough voices shouted words of encouragement in hisears, men jostled and fought to shake his hand or to pat him on theback; they even patted Edward and tried to shake his hand, because hewas with Hal, and seemed to have his confidence. Afterwards Hal thoughtit over and was merry. Such an adventure for Edward!

The younger man went up the steps of the building and spoke to theguards. "I want to see Mr. Cartwright. "

"He's inside, " answered one, not cordially. With Edward following, Halentered, and was ushered into the private office of the superintendent. 

Having been a working-man, and class-conscious, Hal was observant of themanners of mine-superintendents; he noted that Cartwright bowed politelyto Edward, but did not include Edward's brother. "Mr. Cartwright, " hesaid, "I have come to you as a deputation from the workers of thiscamp. "

The superintendent did not appear impressed by the announcement. 

"I am instructed to say that the men demand the redress of fourgrievances before they return to work. First--"

Here Cartwright spoke, in his quick, sharp way. "There's no use goingon, sir. This company will deal only with its men as individuals. Itwill recognise no deputations. "

Hal's answer was equally quick. "Very well, Mr. Cartwright. In thatcase, I come to you as an individual. "

For a moment the superintendent seemed nonplussed. 

"I wish to ask four rights which are granted to me by the laws of thisstate. First, the right to belong to a union, without being dischargedfor it. "

The other had recovered his manner of quiet mastery. "You have thatright, sir; you have always had it. You know perfectly well that thecompany has never discharged any one for belonging to a union. "

The man was looking at Hal, and there was a duel of the eyes betweenthem. A cold anger moved Hal. His ability to endure this sort of thingwas at an end. "Mr. Cartwright, " he said, "you are the servant of one ofthe world's greatest actors; and you support him ably. "

The other flushed and drew back; Edward put in quickly: "Hal, there'snothing to be gained by such talk!"

"He has all the world for an audience, " persisted Hal. "He plays themost stupendous farce--and he and all his actors wearing such solemnfaces!"

"Mr. Cartwright, " said Edward, with dignity, "I trust you understandthat I have done everything I can to restrain my brother. "

"Of course, Mr. Warner, " replied the superintendent. "And you must knowthat I, for my part, have done everything to show your brotherconsideration. "

"Again!" exclaimed Hal. "This actor is a genius!"

"Hal, if you have business with Mr. Cartwright--"

"He showed me consideration by sending his gunmen to seize me at night, drag me out of a cabin, and nearly twist the arm off me! Such humournever was!"

Cartwright attempted to speak--but looking at Edward, not at Hal. "Atthat time--"

"He showed me consideration by having me locked up in jail and fed onbread and water for two nights and a day! Can you beat that humour?"

"At that time I did not know--"

"By forging my name to a letter and having it circulated in the camp!Finally--most considerate of all--by telling a newspaper man that I hadseduced a girl here!"

The superintendent flushed still redder. "_No!_" he declared. 

"_What?_" cried Hal. "You didn't tell Billy Keating of the _Gazette_that I had seduced a girl in North Valley? You didn't describe the girlto him--a red-haired Irish girl?"

"I merely said, Mr. Warner, that I had heard certain rumours--"

"_Certain_ rumours, Mr. Cartwright? The certainty was all of yourmaking! You made a definite and explicit statement to Mr. Keating--"

"I did not!" declared the other. 

"I'll soon prove it!" And Hal started towards the telephone onCartwright's desk. 

"What are you going to do, Hal?"

"I am going to get Billy Keating on the wire, and let you hear hisstatement. "

"Oh, rot, Hal!" cried Edward. "I don't care anything about Keating'sstatement. You know that at that time Mr. Cartwright had no means ofknowing who you were. "

Cartwright was quick to grasp this support. "Of course not, Mr. Warner!Your brother came here, pretending to be a working boy--"

"Oh!" cried Hal. "So that's it! You think it proper to circulateslanders about working boys in your camp?"

"You have been here long enough to know what the morals of such boysare. "

"I have been here long enough, Mr. Cartwright, to know that if you wantto go into the question of morals in North Valley, the place for you tobegin is with the bosses and guards you put in authority, and allow toprey upon women. "

Edward broke in: "Hal, there's nothing to be gained by pursuing thisconversation. If you have any business here, get it over with, for God'ssake!"

Hal made an effort to recover his self-possession. He came back to thedemands of the strike--but only to find that he had used up thesuperintendent's self-possession. "I have given you my answer, " declaredCartwright, "I absolutely decline any further discussion. "

"Well, " said Hal, "since you decline to permit a deputation of your mento deal with you in plain, business-like fashion, I have to inform youas an individual that every other individual in your camp refuses towork for you. "

The superintendent did not let himself be impressed by this elaboratesarcasm. "All I have to tell you, sir, is that Number Two mine willresume work in the morning, and that any one who refuses to work will besent down the canyon before night. "

"So quickly, Mr. Cartwright? They have rented their homes from thecompany, and you know that according to the company's own lease they areentitled to three days' notice before being evicted!"

Cartwright was so unwise as to argue. He knew that Edward was hearing, and he wished to clear himself. "They will not be evicted by thecompany. They will be dealt with by the town authorities. "

"Of which you yourself are the head?"

"I happen to have been elected mayor of North Valley. "

"As mayor of North Valley, you gave my brother to understand that youwould put me out, did you not?"

"I asked your brother to persuade you to leave. "

"But you made clear that if he could not do this, you would put me out?"

"Yes, that is true. "

"And the reason you gave was that you had had instructions by telegraphfrom Mr. Peter Harrigan. May I ask to what office Mr. Harrigan has beenelected in your town?"

Cartwright saw his difficulty. "Your brother misunderstood me, " he said, crossly. 

"Did you misunderstand him, Edward?"

Edward had walked to the window in disgust; he was looking attomato-cans and cinder-heaps, and did not see fit to turn around. Butthe superintendent knew that he was hearing, and considered it necessaryto cover the flaw in his argument. "Young man, " said he, "you haveviolated several of the ordinances of this town. "

"Is there an ordinance against organising a union of the miners?"

"No; but there is one against speaking on the streets. "

"Who passed that ordinance, if I may ask?"

"The town council. "

"Consisting of Johnson, postmaster and company-store clerk; Ellison, company book-keeper; Strauss, company pit-boss; O'Callahan, companysaloon-keeper. Have I the list correct?"

Cartwright did not answer. 

"And the fifth member of the town council is yourself, ex-officio--Mr. Enos Cartwright, mayor and company-superintendent. "

Again there was no answer. 

"You have an ordinance against street-speaking; and at the same timeyour company owns the saloon-buildings, the boarding-houses, the churchand the school. Where do you expect the citizens to do their speaking?"

"You would make a good lawyer, young man. But we who have charge hereknow perfectly well what you mean by 'speaking'!"

"You don't approve, then, of the citizens holding meetings?"

"I mean that we don't consider it necessary to provide agitators withopportunity to incite our employés. "

"May I ask, Mr. Cartwright, are you speaking as mayor of an Americancommunity, or as superintendent of a coal-mine?"

Cartwright's face had been growing continually redder. AddressingEdward's back, he said, "I don't see any reason why this shouldcontinue. "

And Edward was of the same opinion. He turned. "Really, Hal--"

"But, Edward! A man accuses your brother of being a law-breaker! Haveyou hitherto known of any criminal tendencies in our family?"

Edward turned to the window again and resumed his study of thecinder-heaps and tomato-cans. It was a vulgar and stupid quarrel, but hehad seen enough of Hal's mood to realise that he would go on and on, solong as any one was indiscreet enough to answer him. 

"You say, Mr. Cartwright, that I have violated the ordinance againstspeaking on the street. May I ask what penalty this ordinance carries?"

"You will find out when the penalty is exacted of you. "

Hal laughed. "From what you said just now, I gather that the penalty isexpulsion from the town! If I understand legal procedure, I should havebeen brought before the justice of the peace--who happens to be anothercompany store-clerk. Instead of that, I am sentenced by the mayor--or isit the company superintendent? May I ask how that comes to be?"

"It is because of my consideration--"

"When did I ask consideration?"

"Consideration for your brother, I mean. "

"Oh! Then your ordinance provides that the mayor--or is it thesuperintendent?--may show consideration for the brother of alaw-breaker, by changing his penalty to expulsion from the town. Was itconsideration for Tommie Burke that caused you to have his sister sentdown the canyon?"

Cartwright clenched his hands. "I've had all I'll stand of this!"

He was again addressing Edward's back; and Edward turned and answered, "I don't blame you, sir. " Then to Hal, "I really think you've saidenough!"

"I hope I've said enough, " replied Hal--"to convince you that thepretence of American law in this coal-camp is a silly farce, an insultand a humiliation to any man who respects the institutions of hiscountry. "

"You, Mr. Warner, " said the superintendent, to Edward, "have hadexperience in managing coal-mines. You know what it means to deal withignorant foreigners, who have no understanding of American law--"

Hal burst out laughing. "So you're teaching them American law! You'reteaching them by setting at naught every law of your town and state, every constitutional guarantee--and substituting the instructions youget by telegraph from Peter Harrigan!"

Cartwright turned and walked to the door. "Young man, " said he, over hisshoulder, "it will be necessary for you to leave North Valley thismorning. I only hope your brother will be able to persuade you to leavewithout trouble. " And the bang of the door behind him was thesuperintendent's only farewell. 

SECTION 17. 

Edward turned upon his brother. "Now what the devil did you want to putme through a scene like that for? So undignified! So utterly uncalledfor! A quarrel with a man so far beneath you!"

Hal stood where the superintendent had left him. He was looking at hisbrother's angry face. "Was that all you got out of it, Edward?"

"All that stuff about your private character! What do you care what afellow like Cartwright thinks about you?"

"I care nothing at all what he thinks, but I care about having him usesuch a slander. That's one of their regular procedures, so Billy Keatingsays. "

Edward answered, coldly, "Take my advice, and realise that when you denya scandal, you only give it circulation. "

"Of course, " answered Hal. "That's what makes me so angry. Think of thegirl, the harm done to her!"

"It's not up to you to worry about the girl. "

"Suppose that Cartwright had slandered some woman friend of yours. Wouldyou have felt the same indifference?"

"He'd not have slandered any friend of mine; I choose my friends morecarefully. "

"Yes, of course. What that means is that you choose them among the rich. But I happen to be more democratic in my tastes--"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" cried Edward. "You reformers are all alike--youtalk and talk and talk!"

"I can tell you the reason for that, Edward--a man like you can shut hiseyes, but he can't shut his ears!"

"Well, can't you let up on me for awhile--long enough to get out of thisplace? I feel as if I were sitting on the top of a volcano, and I've noidea when it may break out again. "

Hal began to laugh. "All right, " he said; "I guess I haven't shown muchappreciation of your visit. I'll be more sociable now. My next businessis in Pedro, so I'll go that far with you. There's one thing more--"

"What is it?"

"The company owes me money--"

"What money?"

"Some I've earned. "

It was Edward's turn to laugh. "Enough to buy you a shave and a bath?"

He took out his wallet, and pulled off several bills; and Hal, watchinghim, realised suddenly a change which had taken place in his ownpsychology. Not merely had he acquired the class-consciousness of theworking-man, he had acquired the money-consciousness as well. He wasactually concerned about the dollars the company owed him! He had earnedthose dollars by back- and heart-breaking toil, lifting lumps of coalinto cars; the sum was enough to keep the whole Rafferty family alivefor a week or two. And here was Edward, with a smooth brown leatherwallet full of ten- and twenty-dollar bills, which he peeled off withoutcounting, exactly as if money grew on trees, or as if coal came out ofthe earth and walked into furnaces to the sound of a fiddle and a flute!

Edward had of course no idea of these abnormal processes going on in hisbrother's mind. He was holding out the bills. "Get yourself some decentthings, " he said. "I hope you don't have to stay dirty in order to feeldemocratic?"

"No, " answered Hal; and then, "How are we going?"

"I've a car waiting, back of the office. "

"So you had everything ready!" But Edward made no answer; afraid ofsetting off the volcano again. 

SECTION 18. 

They went out by the rear door of the office, entered the car, and spedout of the village, unseen by the crowd. And all the way down the canyonEdward pleaded with Hal to drop the controversy and come home at once. He brought up the tragic question of Dad again; when that did not avail, he began to threaten. Suppose Hal's money-resources were to be cut off, suppose he were to find himself left out of his father's will--whatwould he do then? Hal answered, without a smile, "I can always get a jobas organiser for the United Mine-Workers. "

So Edward gave up that line of attack. "If you won't come, " he declared, "I'm going to stay by you till you do!"

"All right, " said Hal. He could not help smiling at this dire threat. "But if I take you about and introduce you to my friends, you must agreethat what you hear shall be confidential. "

The other made a face of disgust. "What the devil would I want to talkabout your friends for?"

"I don't know what might happen, " said Hal. "You're going to meet PeterHarrigan and take his side, and I can't tell what you might conceive ityour duty to do. "

The other exclaimed, with sudden passion, "I'll tell you right now! Ifyou try to go back to that coal-camp, I swear to God I'll apply to thecourts and have you shut up in a sanitarium. I don't think I'd have muchtrouble in persuading a judge that you're insane. "

"No, " said Hal, with a laugh--"not a judge in this part of the world!"

Then, after studying his brother's face for a moment, it occurred to himthat it might be well not to let such an idea rest unimpeached inEdward's mind. "Wait, " said he, "till you meet my friend Billy Keating, of the _Gazette_, and hear what he would do with such a story! Billy iscrazy to have me turn him loose to 'play up' my fight with Old Peter!"The conversation went no farther--but Hal was sure that Edward would"put that in his pipe and smoke it. "

They came to the MacKellar home in Pedro, and Edward waited in theautomobile while Hal went inside. The old Scotchman welcomed him warmly, and told him what news he had. Jerry Minetti had been there thatmorning, and MacKellar at his request had telephoned to the office ofthe union in Sheridan, and ascertained that Jack David had brought wordabout the strike on the previous evening. All parties had been carefulnot to mention names, for "leaks" in the telephone were notorious, butit was clear who the messenger had been. As a result of the message, Johann Hartman, president of the local union of the miners, was now atthe American Hotel in Pedro, together with James Moylan, secretary ofthe district organisation--the latter having come down from Western Cityon the same train as Edward. 

This was all satisfactory; but MacKellar added a bit of information ofdesperate import--the officers of the union declared that they could notsupport a strike at the present time! It was premature, it could lead tonothing but failure and discouragement to the larger movement they wereplanning. 

Such a possibility Hal had himself realised at the outset. But he hadwitnessed the new birth of freedom at North Valley, he had seen thehungry, toil-worn faces of men looking up to him for support; he hadbeen moved by it, and had come to feel that the union officials must bemoved in the same way. "They've simply got to back it!" he exclaimed. "Those men must not be disappointed! They'll lose all hope, they'll sinkinto utter despair! The labour men must realise that--I must make them!"

The old Scotchman answered that Minetti had felt the same way. He hadflung caution to the winds, and rushed over to the hotel to see Hartmanand Moylan. Hal decided to follow, and went out to the automobile. 

He explained matters to his brother, whose comment was, Of course! Itwas what he had foretold. The poor, mis-guided miners would go back totheir work, and their would-be leader would have to admit the folly ofhis course. There was a train for Western City in a couple of hours; itwould be a great favour if Hal would arrange to take it. 

Hal answered shortly that he was going to the American Hotel. Hisbrother might take him there, if he chose. So Edward gave the order tothe driver of the car. Incidentally, Edward began asking aboutclothing-stores in Pedro. While Hal was in the hotel, pleading for thelife of his newly-born labour union, Edward would seek a costume inwhich he could "feel like a human being. "

SECTION 19. 

Hal found Jerry Minetti with the two officials in their hotel-room: JimMoylan, district secretary, a long, towering Irish boy, black-eyed andblack-haired, quick and sensitive, the sort of person one trusted andliked at the first moment; and Johann Hartman, local president, agrey-haired miner of German birth, reserved and slow-spoken, evidently aman of much strength, both physical and moral. He had need of it, anyone could realise, having charge of a union headquarters in the heart ofthis "Empire of Raymond"!

Hal first told of the kidnapping of the committee. This did not surprisethe officials, he found; it was the thing the companies regularly didwhen there was threat of rebellion in the camps. That was why efforts toorganise openly were so utterly hopeless. There was no chance foranything but a secret propaganda, maintained until every camp had thenucleus of an organisation. 

"So you can't back this strike!" exclaimed Hal. 

Not possibly, was Moylan's reply. It would be lost as soon as it wasbegun. There was no slightest hope of success until a lot oforganisation work had been done. 

"But meantime, " argued Hal, "the union at North Valley will go topieces!"

"Perhaps, " was the reply. "We'll only have to start another. That's whatthe labour movement is like. "

Jim Moylan was young, and saw Hal's mood. "Don't misunderstand us!" hecried. "It's heartbreaking--but it's not in our power to help. We arecharged with building up the union, and we know that if we supportedeverything that looked like a strike, we'd be bankrupt the first year. You can't imagine how often this same thing happens--hardly a monthwe're not called on to handle such a situation. "

"I can see what you mean, " said Hal. "But I thought that in this case, right after the disaster, with the men so stirred--"

The young Irishman smiled, rather sadly. "You're new at this game, " hesaid. "If a mine-disaster was enough to win a strike, God knows our jobwould be easy. In Barela, just down the canyon from you, they've hadthree big explosions--they've killed over five hundred men in the pastyear!"

Hal began to see how, in his inexperience, he had lost his sense ofproportion. 

He looked at the two labour leaders, and recalled the picture of such aperson which he had brought with him to North Valley--a hot headed andfiery agitator, luring honest workingmen from their jobs. But here wasthe situation exactly reversed! Here was he in a blaze ofexcitement--and two labour leaders turning the fire-hose on him! Theysat quiet and business-like, pronouncing a doom upon the slaves of NorthValley. Back to their black dungeons with them!

"What can we tell the men?" he asked, making an effort to repress hischagrin. 

"We can only tell them what I'm telling you--that we're helpless, tillwe've got the whole district organised. Meantime, they have to stand thegaff; they must do what they can to keep an organisation. "

"But all the active men will be fired!"

"No, not quite all--they seldom get them all. "

Here the stolid old German put in. In the last year the company hadturned out more than six thousand men because of union activity orsuspicion of it. 

"_Six thousand!_" echoed Hal. "You mean from this one district?"

"That's what I mean. "

"But there aren't more than twelve or fifteen thousand men in thedistrict!"

"I know that. "

"Then how can you ever keep an organisation?"

The other answered, quietly, "They treat the new men the same as theytreated the old. "

Hal thought suddenly of John Edstrom's ants! Here they were--buildingtheir bridge, building it again and again, as often as floods mightdestroy it! They had not the swift impatience of a youth of theleisure-class, accustomed to having his own way, accustomed to thinkingof freedom and decency and justice as necessities of life. Much as Hallearned from the conversation of these men, he learned more from theirsilences--the quiet, matter-of-fact way they took things which haddriven him beside himself with indignation. He began to realise what itwould mean to stand by his pledge to those poor devils in North Valley. He would need more than one blaze of excitement; he would need brainsand patience and discipline, he would need years of study and hard work!

SECTION 20. 

Hal found himself forced to accept the decision of the labour-leaders. They had had experience, they could judge the situation. The minerswould have to go back to work, and Cartwright and Alec Stone and JeffCotton would drive them as before! All that the rebels could do was totry to keep a secret organisation in the camp. 

Jerry Minetti mentioned Jack David. He had gone back this morning, without having seen the labour-leaders. So he might escape suspicion, and keep his job, and help the union work. 

"How about you?" asked Hal. "I suppose you've cooked your goose. "

Jerry had never heard this phrase, but he got its meaning. "Sure thing!"said he. "Cooked him plenty!"

"Didn't you see the 'dicks' down stairs in the lobby?" inquired Hartman. 

"I haven't learned to recognise them yet. "

"Well, you will, if you stay at this business. There hasn't been aminute since our office was opened that we haven't had half a dozen onthe other side of the street. Every man that comes to see us is followedback to his camp and fired that same day. They've broken into my desk atnight and stolen my letters and papers; they've threatened us with deatha hundred times. "

"I don't see how you make any headway at all!"

"They can never stop us. They thought when they broke into my desk, they'd get a list of our organisers. But you see, I carry the lists inmy head!"

"No small task, either, " put in Moylan. "Would you like to know how manyorganisers we have at work? Ninety-seven. And they haven't caught asingle one of them!"

Hal heard him, amazed. Here was a new aspect of the labour movement!This quiet, resolute old "Dutchy, " whom you might have taken for adelicatessen-proprietor; this merry-eyed Irish boy, whom you would haveexpected to be escorting a lady to a firemen's ball----they werecaptains of an army of sappers who were undermining the towers of PeterHarrigan's fortress of greed!

Hartman suggested that Jerry might take a chance at this sort of work. He would surely be fired from North Valley, so he might as well sendword to his family to come to Pedro. In this way he might save himselfto work as an organiser; because it was the custom of these company"spotters" to follow a man back to his camp and there identify him. IfJerry took a train for Western City, they would be thrown off the track, and he might get into some new camp and do organising among theItalians. Jerry accepted this proposition with alacrity; it would putoff the evil day when Rosa and her little ones would be left to themercy of chance. 

They were still talking when the telephone rang. It was Hartman'ssecretary in Sheridan, reporting that he had just heard from thekidnapped committee. The entire party, eight men and Mary Burke, hadbeen taken to Horton, a station not far up the line, and put on thetrain with many dire threats. But they had left the train at the nextstop, and declared their intention of coming to Pedro. They were due atthe hotel very soon. 

Hal desired to be present at this meeting, and went downstairs to tellhis brother. There was another dispute, of course. Edward reminded Halthat the scenery of Pedro had a tendency to monotony; to which Hal couldonly answer by offering to introduce his brother to his friends. Theywere men who could teach Edward much, if he would consent to learn. Hemight attend the session with the committee--eight men and a woman whohad ventured an act of heroism and been made the victims of a crime. Norwere they bores, as Edward might be thinking! There was blue-eyed TimRafferty, for example, a silent, smutty-faced gnome who had broken outof his black cavern and spread unexpected golden wings of oratory; andMary Burke, of whom Edward might read in that afternoon's edition of theWestern City _Gazette_--a "Joan of Arc of the coal-camps, " or somethingequally picturesque. But Edward's mood was not to be enlivened. He had avision of his brother's appearance in the paper as the companion of thisHibernian Joan!

Hal went off with Jerry Minetti to what his brother described as a"hash-house, " while Edward proceeded in solitary state to thedining-room of the American Hotel. But he was not left in solitarystate; pretty soon a sharp-faced young man was ushered to a seat besidehim, and started up a conversation. He was a "drummer, " he said; his"line" was hardware, what was Edward's? Edward answered coldly that hehad no "line, " but the young man was not rebuffed--apparently his "line"had hardened his sensibilities. Perhaps Edward was interested incoal-mines? Had he been visiting the camps? He questioned sopersistently, and came back so often to the subject, that at last itdawned over Edward what this meant--he was receiving the attention of a"spotter!" Strange to say, the circumstance caused Edward moreirritation against Peter Harrigan's regime than all his brother'seloquence about oppression at North Valley. 

SECTION 21. 

Soon after dinner the kidnapped committee arrived, bedraggled in bodyand weary in soul. They inquired for Johann Hartman, and were sent up tothe room, where there followed a painful scene. Eight men and a womanwho had ventured an act of heroism and been made the victims of a crimecould not easily be persuaded to see their efforts and sacrifices thrownon the dump-heap, nor were they timid in expressing their opinions ofthose who were betraying them. 

"You been tryin' to get us out!" cried Tim Rafferty. "Ever since I canremember you been at my old man to help you--an' here, when we do whatyou ask, you throw us down!"

"We never asked you to go on strike, " said Moylan. 

"No, that's true. You only asked us to pay dues, so you fellows couldhave fat salaries. "

"Our salaries aren't very fat, " replied the young leader, patiently. "You'd find that out if you investigated. "

"Well, whatever they are, they go on, while ours stop. We're on thestreets, we're done for. Look at us--and most of us has got families, too! I got an old mother an' a lot of brothers and sisters, an' my oldman done up an' can't work. What do you think's to become of us?"

"We'll help you out a little, Rafferty--"

"To hell with you!" cried Tim. "I don't want your help! When I needcharity, I'll go to the county. They're another bunch of grafters, butthey don't pretend to be friends to the workin' man. "

Here was the thing Tom Olson had told Hal at the outset--the workingmenbedevilled, not knowing whom to trust, suspecting the very people whomost desired to help them. "Tim, " he put in, "there's no use talkinglike that. We have to learn patience--"

And the boy turned upon Hal. "What do you know about it? It's all a joketo you. You can go off and forget it when you get ready. You've gotmoney, they tell me!"

Hal felt no resentment at this; it was what he heard from his ownconscience. "It isn't so easy for me as you think, Tim. There are otherways of suffering besides not having money--"

"Much sufferin' you'll do--with your rich folks!" sneered Tim. 

There was a murmur of protest from others of the committee. 

"Good God, Rafferty!" broke in Moylan. "We can't help it, man--we'rejust as helpless as you!"

"You say you're helpless--but you don't even try!"

"_Try?_ Do you want us to back a strike that we know hasn't a chance?You might as well ask us to lie down and let a load of coal run over us. We can't win, man! I tell you we can't _win_! We'd only be throwing awayour organisation!"

Moylan became suddenly impassioned. He had seen a dozen sporadic strikesin this district, and many a dozen young strikers, homeless, desolate, embittered, turning their disappointment on him. "We might support youwith our funds, you say--we might go on doing it, even while the companyran the mine with scabs. But where would that land us, Rafferty? I seenmany a union on the rocks--and I ain't so old either! If we had a bank, we'd support all the miners of the country, they'd never need to workagain till they got their rights. But this money we spend is the moneythat other miners are earnin'--right now, down in the pits, Rafferty, the same as you and your old man. They give us this money, and they say, 'Use it to build up the union. Use it to help the men that aren'torganised--take them in, so they won't beat down our wages and scab onus. But don't waste it, for God's sake; we have to work hard to make it, and if we don't see results, you'll get no more out of us. ' Don't yousee how that is, man? And how it weighs on us, worse even then the fearthat maybe we'll lose our poor salaries--though you might refuse tobelieve anything so good of us? You don't need to talk to me like I wasPeter Harrigan's son. I was a spragger when I was ten years old, and Iain't been out of the pits so long that I've forgot the feeling. Iassure you, the thing that keeps me awake at night ain't the fear of notgettin' a living, for I give myself a bit of education, working nights, and I know I could always turn out and earn what I need; but it'swondering whether I'm spending the miners' money the best way, whethermaybe I mightn't save them a little misery if I hadn't 'a' done this orhad 'a' done that. When I come down on that sleeper last night, here'swhat I was thinking, Tim Rafferty--all the time I listened to the trainbumping--'Now I got to see some more of the suffering, I got to let somegood men turn against us, because they can't see why we should getsalaries while they get the sack. How am I going to show them that I'mworking for them--working as hard as I know how--and that I'm not toblame for their trouble?'"

Here Wauchope broke in. "There's no use talking any more. I see we're upagainst it. We'll not trouble you, Moylan. "

"You trouble me, " cried Moylan, "unless you stand by the movement!"

The other laughed bitterly. "You'll never know what I do. It's the roadfor me--and you know it!"

"Well, wherever you go, it'll be the same; either you'll be fighting forthe union, or you'll be a weight that we have to carry. "

The young leader turned from one to another of the committee, pleadingwith them not to be embittered by this failure, but to turn it to theirprofit, going on with the work of building up the solidarity of theminers. Every man had to make his sacrifices, to pay his part of theprice. The thing of importance was that every man who was dischargedshould be a spark of unionism, carrying the flame of revolt to a newpart of the country. Let each one do his part, and there would soon beno place to which the masters could send for "scabs. "

SECTION 22. 

There was one member of this committee whom Hal watched with especialanxiety----Mary Burke. She had not yet said a word; while the othersargued and protested, she sat with her lips set and her hands clenched. Hal knew what rage this failure must bring to her. She had risen andstruggled and hoped, and the result was what she had always said itwould be--nothing! Now he saw her, with eyes large and dark withfatigue, fixed on this fiery young labour-leader. He knew that a warmust be going on within her. Would she drop out entirely now? It was thetest of her character--as it was the test of the characters of all ofthem. 

"If only we're strong enough and brave enough, " Jim Moylan was saying, "we can use our defeats to educate our people and bring them together. Right now, if we can make the men at North Valley see what we're doing, they won't go back beaten, they won't be bitter against the union, they'll only go back to wait. And ain't that a way to beat thebosses--to hold our jobs, and keep the union alive, till we've got intoall the camps, and can strike and win?"

There was a pause; then Mary spoke. "How're you meanin' to tell themen?" Her voice was without emotion, but nevertheless, Hal's heartleaped. Whether Mary had any hope or not, she was going to stay in linewith the rest of the ants!

Johann Hartman explained his idea. He would have circulars printed inseveral languages and distributed secretly in the camp, ordering the menback to work. But Jerry met this suggestion with a prompt no. The peoplewould not believe the circulars, they would suspect the bosses of havingthem printed. Hadn't the bosses done worse than that, "framing up" aletter from Joe Smith to balk the check-weighman movement? The onlything that would help would be for some of the committee to get into thecamp and see the men face to face. 

"And it got to be quick!" Jerry insisted. "They get notice to work inmorning, and them that don't be fired. They be the best men, too--men wewant to save. "

Other members of the committee spoke up, agreeing with this. SaidRusick, the Slav, slow-witted and slow-spoken, "Them fellers get mightydamn sore if they lose their job and don't got no strike. " And Zammakis, the Greek, quick and nervous, "We say strike; we got to say no strike. "

What could they do? There was, in the first place, the difficulty ofgetting away from the hotel, which was being watched by the "spotters. "Hartman suggested that if they went out all together and scattered, thedetectives could not follow all of them. Those who escaped might getinto North Valley by hiding in the "empties" which went up to the mine. 

But Moylan pointed out that the company would be anticipating this; andRusick, who had once been a hobo, put in: "They sure search them cars. They give us plenty hell, too, when they catch us. "

Yes, it would be a dangerous mission. Mary spoke again. "Maybe a ladycould do it better. "

"They'd beat a lady, " said Minetti. 

"I know, but maybe a lady might fool them. There's some widows that cameto Pedro for the funerals, and they're wearin' veils that hide theirfaces. I might pretend to be one of them and get into the camp. "

The men looked at one another. There was an idea! The scowl which hadstayed upon the face of Tim Rafferty ever since his quarrel with Moylan, gave place suddenly to a broad grin. 

"I seen Mrs. Zamboni on the street, " said he. "She had on black veilsenough to hide the lot of us. "

And here Hal spoke, for the first time since Tim Rafferty had silencedhim. "Does anybody know where to find Mrs. Zamboni?"

"She stay with my friend, Mrs. Swajka, " said Rusick. 

"Well, " said Hal, "there's something you people don't know about thissituation. After they had fired you, I made another speech to the men, and made them swear they'd stay on strike. So now I've got to go backand eat my words. If we're relying on veils and things, a man can befixed up as well as a woman. "

They were staring at him. "They'll beat you to death if they catch you!"said Wauchope. 

"No, " said Hal, "I don't think so. Anyhow, it's up to me"--he glanced atTim Rafferty--"because I'm the only one who doesn't have to suffer forthe failure of our strike. "

There was a pause. 

"I'm sorry I said that!" cried Tim, impulsively. 

"That's all right, old man, " replied Hal. "What you said is true, andI'd like to do something to ease my conscience. " He rose to his feet, laughing. "I'll make a peach of a widow!" he said. "I'm going up andhave a tea-party with my friend Jeff Cotton!"

SECTION 23. 

Hal proposed going to find Mrs. Zamboni at the place where she wasstaying; but Moylan interposed, objecting that the detectives wouldsurely follow him. Even though they should all go out of the hotel atonce, the one person the detective would surely stick to was thearch-rebel and trouble-maker, Joe Smith. Finally they decided to bringMrs. Zamboni to the room. Let her come with Mrs. Swajka or some otherwoman who spoke English, and go to the desk and ask for Mary Burke, explaining that Mary had borrowed money from her, and that she had tohave it to pay the undertaker for the burial of her man. The hotel-clerkmight not know who Mary Burke was; but the watchful "spotters" wouldgather about and listen, and if it was mentioned that Mary was fromNorth Valley, some one would connect her with the kidnapped committee. 

This was made clear to Rusick, who hurried off, and in the course ofhalf an hour returned with the announcement that the women were on theway. A few minutes later came a tap on the door, and there stood theblack-garbed old widow with her friend. She came in; and then came looksof dismay and horrified exclamations. Rusick was requesting her to giveup her weeds to Joe Smith!

"She say she don't got nothing else, " explained the Slav. 

"Tell her I give her plenty money buy more, " said Hal. 

"Ai! Jesu!" cried Mrs. Zamboni, pouring out a sputtering torrent. 

"She say she don't got nothing to put on. She say it ain't good to go noclothes!"

"Hasn't she got on a petticoat?"

"She say petticoat got holes!"

There was a burst of laughter from the company, and the old woman turnedscarlet from her forehead to her ample throat. "Tell her she wrap up inblankets, " said Hal. "Mary Burke buy her new things. "

It proved surprisingly difficult to separate Mrs. Zamboni from herwidow's weeds, which she had purchased with so great an expenditure oftime and tears. Never had a respectable lady who had borne sixteenchildren received such a proposition; to sell the insignia of hergrief--and here in a hotel room, crowded with a dozen men! Nor was thetask made easier by the unseemly merriment of the men. "Ai! Jesu!" criedMrs. Zamboni again. 

"Tell her it's very, very important, " said Hal. "Tell her I must havethem. " And then, seeing that Rusick was making poor headway, he joinedin, in the compromise-English one learns in the camps. "Got to have!Sure thing! Got to hide! Quick! Get away from boss! See? Get killed ifno go!"

So at last the frightened old woman gave way. "She say all turn backs, "said Rusick. And everybody turned, laughing in hilarious whispers, while, with Mary Burke and Mrs. Swajka for a shield, Mrs. Zamboni gotout of her waist and skirt, putting a blanket round her red shouldersfor modesty's sake. When Hal put the garments on, there was a foot tospare all round; but after they had stuffed two bed pillows down in thefront of him, and drawn them tight at the waist-line, the disguise wasjudged more satisfactory. He put on the old lady's ample if raggedshoes, and Mary Burke set the widow's bonnet on his head and adjustedthe many veils; after that Mrs. Zamboni's own brood of children wouldnot have suspected the disguise. 

It was a merry party for a few minutes; worn and hopeless as Mary hadseemed, she was possessed now by the spirit of fun. But then quickly thelaughter died. The time for action had come. Mary Burke said that shewould stay with what was left of Mrs. Zamboni, to answer the door incase any of the hotel people or the detectives should come. Hal askedJim Moylan to see Edward, and say that Hal was writing a manifesto tothe North Valley workers, and would not be ready to leave until themidnight train. 

These things agreed upon, Hal shook hands all round, and the eleven menleft the room at once, going down stairs and through the lobby, scattering in every direction on the streets. Mrs. Swajka and thepseudo-Mrs. Zamboni followed a minute later--and, as they anticipated, found the lobby swept clear of detectives. 

SECTION 24. 

Bidding Mrs. Swajka farewell, Hal set out for the railroad station. Butbefore he had gone a block from the hotel, he ran into his brother, coming straight towards him. 

Edward's face wore a bored look; his very manner of carrying themagazine under his arm said that he had selected it in a last hopelesseffort against the monotony of Pedro. Such a trick of fate, to take aman of important affairs, and immure him at the mercy of a maniac in aGod-forsaken coal-town! What did people do in such a hole? Pay a nickelto look at moving pictures of cow-boys and counterfeiters?

Edward's aspect was too much for Hal's sense of humour. Besides, he hada good excuse; was it not proper to make a test of his disguise, beforefacing the real danger in North Valley?

He placed himself in the path of his brother's progress, and in Mrs. Zamboni's high, complaining tones, began, "Mister!"

Edward stared at the interrupting black figure. "Mister, you Joe Smith'sbrother, hey?"

The question had to be repeated before Edward gave his grudging answer. He was not proud of the relationship. 

"Mister, " continued the whining voice, "my old man got blow up in mine. I get five pieces from my man what I got to bury yesterday ingrave-yard. I got to pay thirty dollar for bury them pieces and I don'tgot no more money left. I don't got no money from them company fellers. They come lawyer feller and he say maybe I get money for bury my man, ifI don't jay too much. But, Mister, I got eleven children I got to feed, and I don't got no more man, and I don't find no new man for old womanlike me. When I go home I hear them children crying and I don't got nofood, and them company-stores don't give me no food. I think maybe youJoe Smith's brother you good man, maybe you sorry for poor widow-woman, you maybe give me some money, Mister, so I buy some food for themchildren. "

"All right, " said Edward. He pulled out his wallet and extracted a bill, which happened to be for ten dollars. His manner seemed to say, "Forheaven's sake, here!"

Mrs. Zamboni clutched the bill with greedy fingers, but was notappeased. "You got plenty money, Mister! You rich man, hey! You maybegive me all them moneys, so I got plenty feed them children? You don'tknow them company-stores, Mister, them prices is way up high likemountains; them children is hungry, they cry all day and night, and onepiece money don't last so long. You give me some more piece moneys, Mister----hey?"

"I'll give you one more, " said Edward. "I need some for myself. " Hepulled off another bill. 

"What you need so much, Mister? You don't got so many children, hey? Andyou got plenty more money home, maybe!"

"That's all I can give you, " said the man. He took a step to one side, to get round the obstruction in his path. 

But the obstruction took a step also--and with surprising agility. "Mister, I thank you for them moneys. I tell them children I get moneysfrom good man. I like you, Mister Smith, you give money for poorwidow-woman--you nice man. "

And the dreadful creature actually stuck out one of her paws, as ifexpecting to pat Edward on the cheek, or to chuck him under the chin. Herecoiled, as from a contagion; but she followed him, determined to dosomething to him, he could not be sure what. He had heard that theseforeigners had strange customs!

"It's all right! It's nothing!" he insisted, and fell back--at the sametime glancing nervously about, to see if there were spectators of thisscene. 

"Nice man, Mister! Nice man!" cried the old woman, with increasingcordiality. "Maybe some day I find man like you, Mr. Edward Smith--so Idon't stay widow-woman no more. You think maybe you like to marry niceSlavish woman, got plenty nice children?"

Edward, perceiving that the matter was getting desperate, sprang to oneside. It was a spring which should have carried him to safety; but tohis dismay the Slavish widow sprang also--her claws caught him under thearm-pit, and fastening in his ribs, gave him a ferocious pinch. Afterwhich the owner of the claws went down the street, not looking back, butmaking strange gobbling noises, which might have been the weeping of abereaved widow in Slavish, or might have been almost anything else. 

SECTION 25. 

The train up to North Valley left very soon, and Hal figured that therewould be just time to accomplish his errand and catch the last trainback. He took his seat in the car without attracting attention, and satin his place until they were approaching their destination, the laststop up the canyon. There were several of the miners' women in the car, and Hal picked out one who belonged to Mrs. Zamboni's nationality, andmoved over beside her. She made place, with some remark; but Hal merelysobbed softly, and the woman felt for his hand to comfort him. As hishands were clasped together under the veils, she patted him reassuringlyon the knee. 

At the boundary of the stockaded village the train stopped, and BudAdams came through the car, scrutinising every passenger. Seeing this, Hal began to sob again, and murmured something indistinct to hiscompanion--which caused her to lean towards him, speaking volubly in hernative language. "Bud" passed by. 

When Hal came to leave the train, he took his companion's arm; he sobbedsome more, and she talked some more, and so they went down the platform, under the very eyes of Pete Hanun, the "breaker of teeth. " Another womanjoined them, and they walked down the street, the women conversing inSlavish, apparently without a suspicion of Hal. 

He had worked out his plan of action. He would not try to talk with themen secretly--it would take too long, and he might be betrayed before hehad talked with a sufficient number. One bold stroke was the thing. Inhalf an hour it would be supper-time, and the feeders would gather inReminitsky's dining-room. He would give his message there!

Hal's two companions were puzzled that he passed the Zamboni cabin, where presumably the Zamboni brood were being cared for by neighbours. But he let them make what they could of this, and went on to the Minettihome. To the astonished Rosa he revealed himself, and gave her husband'smessage--that she should take herself and the children down to Pedro, and wait quietly until she heard from him. She hurried out and broughtin Jack David, to whom Hal explained matters. "Big Jack's" part in therecent disturbance had apparently not been suspected; he and his wife, with Rovetta, Wresmak, and Klowoski, would remain as a nucleus throughwhich the union could work upon the men. 

The supper-hour was at hand, and the pseudo-Mrs. Zamboni emerged andtoddled down the street. As she passed into the dining-room of theboarding-house, men looked at her, but no one spoke. It was the stage ofthe meal where everybody was grabbing and devouring, in the effort toget the best of his grabbing and devouring neighbours. The black-cladfigure went to the far end of the room; there was a vacant chair, andthe figure pulled it back from the table and climbed upon it. Then ashout rang through the room: "Boys! Boys!"

The feeders looked up, and saw the widow's weeds thrown back, and theirleader, Joe Smith, gazing out at them. "Boys! I've come with a messagefrom the union!"

There was a yell; men leaped to their feet, chairs were flung back, falling with a crash to the floor. Then, almost instantly, came silence;you could have heard the movement of any man's jaws, had any mancontinued to move them. 

"Boys! I've been down to Pedro and seen the union people. I knew thebosses wouldn't let me come back, so I dressed up, and here I am!"

It dawned upon them, the meaning of this fantastic costume; there werecheers, laughter, yells of delight. 

But Hal stretched out his hands, and silence fell again. "Listen to me!The bosses won't let me talk long, and I've something important to say. The union leaders say we can't win a strike now. "

Consternation came into the faces before him. There were cries ofdismay. He went on:

"We are only one camp, and the bosses would turn us out, they'd get inscabs and run the mines without us. What we must have is a strike of allthe camps at once. One big union and one big strike! If we walked outnow, it would please the bosses; but we'll fool them--we'll keep ourjobs, and keep our union too! You are members of the union, you'll go onworking for the union! Hooray for the North Valley union!"

For a moment there was no response. It was hard for men to cheer oversuch a prospect! Hal saw that he must touch a different chord. 

"We mustn't be cowards, boys! We've got to keep our nerve! I'm doing mypart--it took nerve to get in here! In Mrs. Zamboni's clothes, and withtwo pillows stuffed in front of me!"

He thumped the pillows, and there was a burst of laughter. Many in thecrowd knew Mrs. Zamboni--it was what comedians call a "local gag. " Thelaughter spread, and became a gale of merriment. Men began to cheer:"Hurrah for Joe! You're the girl! Will you marry me, Joe?" And so, ofcourse, it was easy for Hal to get a response when he shouted, "Hurrahfor the North Valley union!"

Again he raised his hands for silence, and went on again. "Listen, men. They'll turn me out, and you're not going to resist them. You're goingto work and keep your jobs, and get ready for the big strike. And you'lltell the other men what I say. I can't talk to them all, but you tellthem about the union. Remember, there are people outside planning andfighting for you. We're going to stand by the union, all of us, tillwe've brought these coal-camps back into America!" There was a cheerthat shook the walls of the room. Yes, that was what they wanted--tolive in America!

A crowd of men had gathered in the doorway, attracted by the uproar; Halnoticed confusion and pushing, and saw the head and burly shoulders ofhis enemy, Pete Hanun, come into sight. 

"Here come the gunmen, boys!" he cried; and there was a roar of angerfrom the crowd. Men turned, clenching their fists, glaring at the guard. But Hal rushed on, quickly:

"Boys, hear what I say! Keep your heads! I can't stay in North Valley, and you know it! But I've done the thing I came to do, I've brought youthe message from the union. And you'll tell the other men--tell them tostand by the union!"

Hal went on, repeating his message over and over. Looking from one toanother of these toil-worn faces, he remembered the pledge he had madethem, and he made it anew: "I'm going to stand by you! I'm going on withthe fight, boys!"

There came more disturbance at the door, and suddenly Jeff Cottonappeared, with a couple of additional guards, shoving their way into theroom, breathless and red in the face from running. 

"Ah, there's the marshal!" cried Hal. "You needn't push, Cotton, there'snot going to be any trouble. We are union men here, we know how tocontrol ourselves. Now, boys, we're not giving up, we're not beaten, we're only waiting for the men in the other camps! We have a union, andwe mean to keep it! Three cheers for the union!"

The cheers rang out with a will: cheers for the union, cheers for JoeSmith, cheers for the widow and her weeds!

"You belong to the union! You stand by it, no matter what happens! Ifthey fire you, you take it on to the next place! You teach it to the newmen, you never let it die in your hearts! In union there is strength, inunion there is hope! Never forget it, men--_Union_!"

The voice of the camp-marshal rang out. "If you're coming, young woman, come now!"

Hal dropped a shy curtsey. "Oh, Mr. Cotton! This is so sudden!" Thecrowd howled; and Hal descended from his platform. With coquettishgesturing he replaced the widow's veils about his face, and trippedmincingly across the dining-room. When he reached the camp-marshal, hedaintily took that worthy's arm, and with the "breaker of teeth" on theother side, and Bud Adams bringing up the rear, he toddled out of thedining-room and down the street. 

Hungry men gave up their suppers to behold that sight. They poured outof the building, they followed, laughing, shouting, jeering. Others camefrom every direction--by the time the party had reached the depot, agood part of the population of the village was on hand; and everywherewent the word, "It's Joe Smith! Come back with a message from theunion!" Big, coal-grimed miners laughed till the tears made streaks ontheir faces; they fell on one another's necks for delight at this trickwhich had been played upon their oppressors. 

Even Jeff Cotton could not withhold his tribute. "By God, you're thelimit!" he muttered. He accepted the "tea-party" aspect of the affair, as the easiest way to get rid of his recurrent guest, and avert thepossibilities of danger. He escorted the widow to the train and helpedher up the steps, posting escorts at the doors of her car; nor did theattentions of these gallants cease until the train had moved down thecanyon and passed the limits of the North Valley stockade!

SECTION 26. 

Hal took off his widow's weeds; and with them he shed the merriment hehad worn for the benefit of the men. There came a sudden reaction; herealised that he was tired. 

For ten days he had lived in a whirl of excitement, scarcely stopping tosleep. Now he lay back in the car-seat, pale, exhausted; his head ached, and he realised that the sum-total of his North Valley experience wasfailure. There was left in him no trace of that spirit of adventure withwhich he had set out upon his "summer course in practical sociology. " Hehad studied his lessons, tried to recite them, and been "flunked. " Hesmiled a bitter smile, recollecting the careless jesting that had beenon his lips as he came up that same canyon:

 "He keeps them a-roll, that merry old soul-- The wheels of industree; A-roll and a-roll, for his pipe and his bowl And his college facultee!"

The train arrived in Pedro, and Hal took a hack at the station and droveto the hotel. He still carried the widow's weeds rolled into a bundle. He might have left them in the train, but the impulse to economy whichhe had acquired during the last ten weeks had become a habit. He wouldreturn them to Mrs. Zamboni. The money he had promised her might betterbe used to feed her young ones. The two pillows he would leave in thecar; the hotel might endure the loss!

Entering the lobby, the first person Hal saw was his brother, and thesight of that patrician face made human by disgust relieved Hal'sheadache in part. Life was harsh, life was cruel; but here was weary, waiting Edward, that boon of comic relief!

Edward demanded to know where the devil he had been; and Hal answered, "I've been visiting the widows and orphans. "

"Oh!" said Edward. "And while I sit in this hole and stew! What's thatyou've got under your arm?"

Hal looked at the bundle. "It's a souvenir of one of the widows, " hesaid, and unrolled the garments and spread them out before his brother'spuzzled eyes. "A lady named Mrs. Swajka gave them to me. They belongedto another lady, Mrs. Zamboni, but she doesn't need them any more. "

"What have _you_ got to do with them?"

"It seems that Mrs. Zamboni is going to get married again. " Hal loweredhis voice, confidentially. "It's a romance, Edward--it may interest youas an illustration of the manners of these foreign races. She met a manon the street, a fine, fine man, she says--and he gave her a lot ofmoney. So she went and bought herself some new clothes, and she wants togive these widow's weeds to the new man. That's the custom in hercountry, it seems--her sign that she accepts him as a suitor. "

Seeing the look of wonderment growing on his brother's face, Hal had tostop for a moment to keep his own face straight. "If that man wasn'tserious in his intention, Edward, he'll have trouble, for I know Mrs. Zamboni's emotional nature. She'll follow him about everywhere--"

"Hal, that creature is insane!" And Edward looked about him nervously, as if he thought the Slavish widow might appear suddenly in the hotellobby to demonstrate her emotional nature. 

"No, " replied Hal, "it's just one of those differences in nationalcustoms. " And suddenly Hal's face gave way. He began to laugh; helaughed, perhaps more loudly than good form permitted. 

Edward was much annoyed. There were people in the lobby, and they werestaring at him. "Cut it out, Hal!" he exclaimed. "Your fool jokes boreme!" But nevertheless, Hal could see uncertainty in his brother's face. Edward recognised those widow's weeds. And how could he be sure aboutthe "national customs" of that grotesque creature who had pinched him inthe ribs on the street?

"Cut it out!" he cried again. 

Hal, changing his voice suddenly to the Zamboni key, exclaimed: "Mister, I got eight children I got to feed, and I don't got no more man, and Idon't find no new man for old woman like me!"

So at last the truth in its full enormity began to dawn upon Edward. Hisconsternation and disgust poured themselves out; and Hal listened, hislaughter dying. "Edward, " he said, "you don't take me seriously evenyet!"

"Good God!" cried the other. "I believe you're really insane!"

"You were up there, Edward! You heard what I said to those poor devils!And you actually thought I'd go off with you and forget about them!"

Edward ignored this. "You're really insane!" he repeated. "You'll getyourself killed, in spite of all I can do!"

But Hal only laughed. "Not a chance of it! You should have seen thetea-party manners of the camp-marshal!"

SECTION 27. 

Edward would have endeavoured to carry his brother away forthwith, butthere was no train until late at night; so Hal went upstairs, where hefound Moylan and Hartman with Mary Burke and Mrs. Zamboni, all eager tohear his story. As the members of the committee, who had been out tosupper, came straggling in, the story was told again, and yet again. They were almost as much delighted as the men in Reminitsky's. If onlyall strikes that had to be called off could be called off as neatly asthat!

Between these outbursts of satisfaction, they discussed their future. Moylan was going back to Western City, Hartman to his office inSheridan, from which he would arrange to send new organisers into NorthValley. No doubt Cartwright would turn off many men--those who had madethemselves conspicuous during the strike, those who continued to talkunion out loud. But such men would have to be replaced, and the unionknew through what agencies the company got its hands. The North Valleyminers would find themselves mysteriously provided with union literaturein their various languages; it would be slipped under their pillows, orinto their dinner-pails, or the pockets of their coats while they wereat work. 

Also there was propaganda to be carried on among those who were turnedaway; so that, wherever they went, they would take the message ofunionism. There had been a sympathetic outburst in Barela, Hallearned--starting quite spontaneously that morning, when the men heardwhat had happened at North Valley. A score of workers had been fired, and more would probably follow in the morning. Here was a job for themembers of the kidnapped committee; Tim Rafferty, for example--would hecare to stay in Pedro for a week or two, to meet such men, and give themliterature and arguments?

This offer was welcome; for life looked desolate to the Irish boy atthis moment. He was out of a job, his father was a wreck, his familydestitute and helpless. They would have to leave their home, of course;there would be no place for any Rafferty in North Valley. Where theywould go, God only knew; Tim would become a wanderer, living away fromhis people, starving himself and sending home his pitiful savings. 

Hal was watching the boy, and reading these thoughts. He, Hal Warner, would play the god out of a machine in this case, and in several othersequally pitiful. He had the right to sign his father's name to checks, aprivilege which he believed he could retain, even while undertaking therole of Haroun al Raschid in a mine-disaster. But what about themine-disasters and abortive strikes where there did not happen to be anyHaroun al Raschid at hand? What about those people, right in NorthValley, who did not happen to have told Hal of their affairs? Heperceived that it was only by turning his back and running that he wouldescape from his adventure with any portion of his self-possession. Truly, this fair-seeming and wonderful civilisation was like the floorof a charnel-house or a field of battle; anywhere one drove a spadebeneath its surface, he uncovered horrors, sights for the eyes andstenches for the nostrils that caused him to turn sick!

There was Rusick, for example; he had a wife and two children, and not adollar in the world. In the year and more that he had worked, faithfullyand persistently, to get out coal for Peter Harrigan, he had never oncebeen able to get ahead of his bill for the necessities of life at OldPeter's store. All his belongings in the world could be carried in abundle on his back, and whether he ever saw these again would dependupon the whim of old Peter's camp-marshal and guards. Rusick would taketo the road, with a ticket purchased by the union. Perhaps he would finda job and perhaps not; in any case, the best he could hope for in lifewas to work for some other Harrigan, and run into debt at some othercompany-store. 

There was Hobianish, a Serbian, and Hernandez, a Mexican, of whom thesame things were true, except that one had four children and the othersix. Bill Wauchope had only a wife--their babies had died, thank heaven, he said. He did not seem to have been much moved by Jim Moylan'spleadings; he was down and out; he would take to the road, and beat hisway to the East and back to England. They called this a free country! ByGod, if he were to tell what had happened to him, he could not get anEnglish miner to believe it!

Hal gave these men his real name and address, and made them promise tolet him know how they got along. He would help a little, he said; in hismind he was figuring how much he ought to do. How far shall a man go inrelieving the starvation about him, before he can enjoy his meals in awell-appointed club? What casuist will work out this problem--tellinghim the percentage he shall relieve of the starvation he happenspersonally to know about, the percentage of that which he sees on thestreets, the percentage of that about which he reads in governmentreports on the rise in the cost of living. To what extent is hepermitted to close his eyes, as he walks along the streets on his way tothe club? To what extent is he permitted to avoid reading governmentreports before going out to dinner-dances with his fiancée? Problemssuch as these the masters of the higher mathematics have neglected tosolve; the wise men of the academies and the holy men of the churcheshave likewise failed to work out the formulas; and Hal, trying to obtainthem by his crude mental arithmetic, found no satisfaction in theresults. 

SECTION 28. 

Hal wanted a chance to talk to Mary Burke; they had had no intimate talksince the meeting with Jessie Arthur, and now he was going away, for along time. He wanted to find out what plans Mary had for the future, and--more important yet--what was her state of mind. If he had been ableto lift this girl from despair, his summer course in practical sociologyhad not been all a failure!

He asked her to go with him to say good-bye to John Edstrom, whom he hadnot seen since their unceremonious parting at MacKellar's, when Hal hadfled to Percy Harrigan's train. Downstairs in the lobby Hal explainedhis errand to his waiting brother, who made no comment, but merelyremarked that he would follow, if Hal had no objection. He did not careto make the acquaintance of the Hibernian Joan of Arc, and would notcome close enough to interfere with Hal's conversation with the lady;but he wished to do what he could for his brother's protection. So thereset out a moon-light procession--first Hal and Mary, then Edward, andthen Edward's dinner-table companion, the "hardware-drummer!"

Hal was embarrassed in beginning his farewell talk with Mary. He had noidea how she felt towards him, and he admitted with a guilty pang thathe was a little afraid to find out! He thought it best to be cheerful, so he started to tell her how fine he thought her conduct during thestrike. But she did not respond to his remarks, and at last he realisedthat she was labouring with some thoughts of her own. 

"There's somethin' I got to say to ye!" she began, suddenly. "A coupleof days ago I knew how I meant to say it, but now I don't. "

"Well, " he laughed, "say it as you meant to. "

"No; 'twas bitter--and now I'm on my knees before ye. "

"Not that I want you to be bitter, " said Hal, still laughing, "but it'sI that ought to be on my knees before you. I didn't accomplish anything, you know. "

"Ye did all ye could--and more than the rest of us. I want ye to knowI'll never forget it. But I want ye to hear the other thing, too!"

She walked on, staring before her, doubling up her hands in agitation. "Well?" said he, still trying to keep a cheerful tone. 

"Ye remember that day just after the explosion? Ye remember what I saidabout--about goin' away with ye? I take it back. "

"Oh, of course!" said he, quickly. "You were distracted, Mary--youdidn't know what you were saying. "

"No, no! That's not it! But I've changed my mind; I don't mean to throwmeself away. "

"I told you you'd see it that way, " he said. "No man is worth it. "

"Ah, lad!" said she. "'Tis the fine soothin' tongue ye have--but I'drather ye knew the truth. 'Tis that I've seen the other girl; and I hateher!"

They walked for a bit in silence. Hal had sense enough to realise thathere was a difficult subject. "I don't want to be a prig, Mary, " he saidgently; "but you'll change your mind about that, too. You'll not hateher; you'll be sorry for her. "

She laughed--a raw, harsh laugh. "What kind of a joke is that?"

"I know--it may seem like one. But it'll come to you some day. You havea wonderful thing to live and fight for; while she"--he hesitated amoment, for he was not sure of his own ideas on this subject--"she hasso many things to learn; and she may never learn them. She'll miss somefine things. "

"I know one of the fine things she does not mean to miss, " said Mary, grimly; "that's Mr. Hal Warner. " Then, after they had walked again insilence: "I want ye to understand me, Mr. Warner--"

"Ah, Mary!" he pleaded. "Don't treat me that way! I'm Joe. "

"All right, " she said, "Joe ye shall be. 'Twill remind ye of a prettyadventure--bein' a workin' man for a few weeks. Well, that's a part ofwhat I have to tell ye. I've got my pride, even if I'm only a poorminer's daughter; and the other day I found out me place. "

"How do you mean?" he asked. 

"Ye don't understand? Honest?"

"No, honest, " he said. 

"Ye're stupid with women, Joe. Ye didn't see what the girl did to me!'Twas some kind of a bug I was to her. She was not sure if I was thekind that bites, but she took no chances--she threw me off, like that. "And Mary snapped her hand, as one does when troubled with a bug. 

"Ah, now!" pleaded Hal. "You're not being fair!"

"I'm bein' just as fair as I've got it in me to be, Joe. I been off andhad it all out. I can see this much--'tis not her fault, maybe--'tis herclass; 'tis all of ye--the very best of ye, even yeself, Joe Smith!"

"Yea, " he replied, "Tim Rafferty said that. "

"Tim said too much--but a part of it was true. Ye think ye've come hereand been one of us workin' people. " But don't your own sense tell youthe difference, as if it was a canyon a million miles across--between apoor ignorant creature in a minin' camp, and a rich man's daughter, alady? Ye'd tell me not to be ashamed of poverty; but would ye ever putme by the side of her--for all your fine feelin's of friendship for themthat's beneath ye? Didn't ye show that at the Minettis'?"

"But don't you see, Mary--" He made an effort to laugh. "I got used toobeying Jessie! I knew her a long time before I knew you. "

"Ah, Joe! Ye've a kind heart, and a pleasant way of speakin'. Butwouldn't it interest ye to know the real truth? Ye said ye'd come outhere to learn the truth!"

And Hal answered, in a low voice, "Yes, " and did not interrupt again. 

SECTION 29. 

Mary's voice had dropped low, and Hal thought how rich and warm it waswhen she was deeply moved. She went on:

"I lived all me life in minin' camps, Joe Smith, and I seen men robbedand beaten, and women cryin' and childer hungry. I seen the company, like some great wicked beast that eat them up. But I never knew why, orwhat it meant--till that day, there at the Minettis'. I'd read aboutfine ladies in books, ye see; but I'd never been spoke to by one, I'dnever had to swallow one, as ye might say. But there I did--and all atonce I seemed to know where the money goes that's wrung out of theminers. I saw why people were robbin' us, grindin' the life out ofus--for fine ladies like that, to keep them so shinin' and soft! 'Twouldnot have been so bad, if she'd not come just then, with all the men andboys dyin' down in the pits--dyin' for that soft, white skin, and thosesoft, white hands, and all those silky things she swished round in. MyGod, Joe--d'ye know what she seemed to me like? Like a smooth, sleek catthat has just eat up a whole nest full of baby mice, and has the bloodof them all over her cheeks!"

Mary paused, breathing hard. Hal kept silence, and she went on again: "Ihad it out with meself, Joe! I don't want ye to think I'm any betterthan I am, and I asked meself this question--Is it for the men in thepits that ye hate her with such black murder? Or is it for the one manye want, and that she's got? And I knew the answer to that! But then Iasked meself another question, too--Would ye be like her if ye could?Would ye do what she's doin' right now--would ye have it on your soul?And as God hears me, Joe, 'tis the truth I speak--I'd not do it! No, notfor the love of any man that ever walked on this earth!"

She had lifted her clenched fist as she spoke. She let it fall again, and strode on, not even glancing at him. "Ye might try a thousand years, Joe, and ye'd not realise the feelin's that come to me there at theMinettis'. The shame of it--not what she done to me, but what she mademe in me own eyes! Me, the daughter of a drunken old miner, and her--Idon't know what her father is, but she's some sort of princess, and sheknows it. And that's the thing that counts, Joe! 'Tis not that she hasso much money, and so many fine things; that she knows how to talk, andI don't, and that her voice is sweet, and mine is ugly, when I'm ragin'as I am now. No--'tis that she's so _sure!_ That's the word I found tosay it; she's sure--sure--_sure!_ She has the fine things, she's alwayshad them, she has a right to have them! And I have a right to nothin'but trouble, I'm hunted all day by misery and fear, I've lost even theroof over me head! Joe, ye know I've got some temper--I'm not easy tobeat down; but when I'd got through bein' taught me place, I went offand hid meself, I ground me face in the dirt, for the black rage of it!I said to meself, 'Tis true! There's somethin' in her better than me!She's some kind of finer creature. --Look at these hands!" She held themout in the moonlight, with a swift, passionate gesture. "So she's aright to her man, and I'm a fool to have ever raised me eyes to him! Ihave to see him go away, and crawl back into me leaky old shack! Yes, that's the truth! And when I point it out to the man, what d'ye think hesays? Why, he tells me gently and kindly that I ought to be sorry forher! Christ! did ye ever hear the like of that?"

There was a long silence. Hal could not have said anything now, if hehad wished to. He knew that this was what he had come to seek! This wasthe naked soul of the class-war!

"Now, " concluded Mary, with clenched hands, and a voice thatcorresponded, "now, I've had it out. I'm no slave; I've just as good aright to life as any lady. I know I'll never have it, of course; I'llnever wear good clothes, nor live in a decent home, nor have the man Iwant; but I'll know that I've done somethin' to help free the workin'people from the shame that's put on them. That's what the strike donefor me, Joe! The strike showed me the way. We're beat this time, butsomehow it hasn't made the difference ye might think. I'm goin' to makemore strikes before I quit, and they won't all of them be beat!"

She stopped speaking; and Hal walked beside her, stirred by a conflictof emotions. His vision of her was indeed true; she would make morestrikes! He was glad and proud of that; but then came the thought thatwhile she, a girl, was going on with the bitter war, he, a man, would beeating grilled beefsteaks at the club!

"Mary, " he said, "I'm ashamed of myself--"

"That's not it, Joe! Ye've no call to be ashamed. Ye can't help it whereye were born--"

"Perhaps not, Mary. But when a man knows he's never paid for any of thethings he's enjoyed all his life, surely the least he can do is to beashamed. I hope you'll try not to hate me as you do the others. "

"I never hated ye, Joe! Not for one moment! I tell ye fair and true, Ilove ye as much as ever. I can say it, because I'd not have ye now; I'veseen the other girl, and I know ye'd never be satisfied with me. I don'tknow if I ought to say it, but I'm thinkin' ye'll not be altogethersatisfied with her, either. Ye'll be unhappy either way--God help ye!"

The girl had read deeply into his soul in this last speech; so deeplythat Hal could not trust himself to answer. They were passing astreet-lamp, and she looked at him, for the first time since they hadstarted on their walk, and saw harassment in his face. A suddentenderness came into her voice. "Joe, " she said; "ye're lookin' bad. 'Tis good ye're goin' away from this place!"

He tried to smile, but the effort was feeble. 

"Joe, " she went on, "ye asked me to be your friend. Well, I'll be that!"And she held out the big, rough hand. 

He took it. "We'll not forget each other, Mary, " he said. There was acatch in his voice. 

"Sure, lad!" she exclaimed. "We'll make another strike some day, justlike we did at North Valley!"

Hal pressed the big hand; but then suddenly, remembering his brotherstalking solemnly in the rear, he relinquished the clasp, and failed tosay all the fine things he had in his mind. He called himself a rebel, but not enough to be sentimental before Edward!

SECTION 30. 

They came to the house where John Edstrom was staying. The labouringman's wife opened the door. In answer to Hal's question, she said, "Theold gentleman's pretty bad. "

"What's the matter with him?"

"Didn't you know he was hurt?"

"No. How?"

"They beat him up, sir. Broke his arm, and nearly broke his head. "

Hal and Mary exclaimed in chorus, "Who did it? When?"

"We don't know who did it. It was four nights ago. "

Hal realised it must have happened while he was escaping fromMacKellar's. "Have you had a doctor for him?"

"Yes, sir; but we can't do much, because my man is out of work, and Ihave the children and the boarders to look after. "

Hal and Mary ran upstairs. Their old friend lay in darkness, but herecognised their voices and greeted them with a feeble cry. The womanbrought a lamp, and they saw him lying on his back, his head done up inbandages, and one arm bound in splints. He looked really desperatelybad, his kindly old eyes deep-sunken and haggard, and his face--Halremembered what Jeff Cotton had called him, "that dough-faced oldpreacher!"

They got the story of what had happened at the time of Hal's flight toPercy's train. Edstrom had shouted a warning to the fugitives, and setout to run after them; when one of the mine-guards, running past him, had fetched him a blow over the eye, knocking him down. He had struckhis head upon the pavement, and lain there unconscious for many hours. When finally some one had come upon him, and summoned a policeman, theyhad gone through his pockets, and found the address of this place wherehe was staying written on a scrap of paper. That was all there was tothe story--except that Edstrom had refrained from sending to MacKellarfor help, because he had felt sure they were all working to get the mineopen, and he did not feel he had the right to put his troubles uponthem. 

Hal listened to the old man's feeble statements, and there came back tohim a surge of that fury which his North Valley experience had generatedin him. It was foolish, perhaps; for to knock down an old man who hadbeen making trouble was a comparatively slight exercise of the functionsof a mine-guard. But to Hal it seemed the most characteristic of all theoutrages he had seen; it was an expression of the company's utterblindness to all that was best in life. This old man, who was so gentle, so patient, who had suffered so much, and not learned to hate, who hadkept his faith so true! What did his faith mean to the thugs of theGeneral Fuel Company? What had his philosophy availed him, hissaintliness, his hopes for mankind? They had fetched him one swipe asthey passed him, and left him lying--alive or dead, it was all the same. 

Hal had got some satisfaction out of his little adventure in widowhood, and some out of Mary's self-victory; but there, listening to the oldman's whispered story, his satisfaction died. He realised again the grimtruth about his summer's experience--that the issue of it had beendefeat. Utter, unqualified defeat! He had caused the bosses a momentarychagrin; but it would not take them many hours to realise that he hadreally done them a service in calling off the strike for them. Theywould start the wheels of industry again, and the workers would be justwhere they had been before Joe Smith came to be stableman and buddyamong them. What was all the talk about solidarity, about hope for thefuture; what would it amount to in the long run, the daily rolling ofthe wheels of industry? The workers of North Valley would have exactlythe right they had always had--the right to be slaves, and if they didnot care for that, the right to be martyrs!

Mary sat holding the old man's hand and whispering words of passionatesympathy, while Hal got up and paced the tiny attic, all ablaze withanger. He resolved suddenly that he would not go back to Western City;he would stay here, and get an honest lawyer to come, and set out topunish the men who were guilty of this outrage. He would test out thelaw to the limit; if necessary, he would begin a political fight, to putan end to coal-company rule in this community. He would find some one towrite up these conditions, he would raise the money and publish a paperto make them known! Before his surging wrath had spent itself, HalWarner had actually come out as a candidate for governor, and wasoverturning the Republican machine--all because an unidentifiedcoal-company detective had knocked a dough-faced old miner into thegutter and broken his arm!

SECTION 31. 

In the end, of course, Hal had to come down to practical matters. He satby the bed and told the old man tactfully that his brother had come tosee him and had given him some money. This brother had plenty of money, so Edstrom could be taken to the hospital; or, if he preferred, Marycould stay near here and take care of him. They turned to the landlady, who had been standing in the doorway; she had three boarders in herlittle home, it seemed, but if Mary could share a bed with thelandlady's two children, they might make out. In spite of Hal's protest, Mary accepted this offer; he saw what was in her mind--she would takesome of his money, because of old Edstrom's need, but she would takejust as little as she possibly could. 

John Edstrom of course knew nothing of events since his injury, so Haltold him the story briefly--though without mentioning the transformationwhich had taken place in the miner's buddy. He told about the part Maryhad played in the strike; trying to entertain the poor old man, he toldhow he had seen her mounted upon a snow-white horse, and wearing a robeof white, soft and lustrous, like Joan of Arc, or the leader of asuffrage parade. 

"Sure, " said Mary, "he's forever callin' attention to this old dress!"

Hal looked; she was wearing the same blue calico. "There's somethingmysterious about that dress, " said he. "It's one of those that you readabout in fairy-stories, that forever patch themselves, and keepthemselves new and starchy. A body only needs one dress like that!"

"Sure, lad, " she answered. "There's no fairies in coal-camps--unless'tis meself, that washes it at night, and dries it over the stove, andirons it next mornin'. "

She said this with unwavering cheerfulness; but even the old miner lyingin pain on the cot could realise the tragedy of a young girl's havingonly one old dress in her love-hunting season. He looked at the youngcouple, and saw their evident interest in each other; after the fashionof the old, he was disposed to help along the romance. "She may needsome orange blossoms, " he ventured, feebly. 

"Go along with ye!" laughed Mary, still unwavering. 

"Sure, " put in Hal, with hasty gallantry, "'tis a blossom she isherself! A rose in a mining-camp--and there's a dispute about her in thepoetry-books. One tells you to leave her on her stalk, and another saysto gather ye rosebuds while ye may, old time is still a-flying!"

"Ye're mixin' me up, " said Mary. "A while back I was ridin' on a whitehorse. "

"I remember, " said Old Edstrom, "not so far back, you were an ant, Mary. "

Her face became grave. To jest about her personal tragedy was one thing, to jest about the strike was another. "Yes, I remember. Ye said I'd stayin the line! Ye were wiser than me, Mr. Edstrom. "

"That's one of the things that come with being old, Mary. " He moved hisgnarled old hand toward hers. "You're going on, now?" he asked. "You'rea unionist now, Mary?"

"I am that!" she answered, promptly, her grey eyes shining. 

"There's a saying, " said he--"once a striker, always a striker. Find away to get some education for yourself, Mary, and when the big strikecomes you'll be one of those the miners look to. I'll not be here, Iknow--the young people must take my place. "

"I'll do my part, " she answered. Her voice was low; it was a kind ofbenediction the old man was giving her. 

The woman had gone downstairs to attend to her children; she came backnow to say that there was a gentleman at the door, who wanted to knowwhen his brother was coming. Hal remembered suddenly--Edward had beenpacing up and down all this while, with no company but a "hardwaredrummer!" The younger brother's resolve to stay in Pedro had alreadybegun to weaken somewhat, and now it weakened still further; he realisedthat life is complex, that duties conflict! He assured the old mineragain of his ability to see that he did not suffer from want, and thenhe bade him farewell for a while. 

He started out, and Mary went as far as the head of the stairway withhim. He took the girl's big, rough hand in his--this time with no one tosee. "Mary, " he said, "I want you to know that nothing will make meforget you; and nothing will make me forget the miners. "

"Ah, Joe!" she cried. "Don't let them win ye away from us! We need ye sobad!"

"I'm going back home for a while, " he answered, "but you can be surethat no matter what happens in my life, I'm going to fight for theworking people. When the big strike comes, as we know it's coming inthis coal-country, I'll be here to do my share. "

"Sure lad, " she said, looking him bravely in the eye, "and good-bye toye, Joe Smith. " Her eyes did not waver; but Hal noted a catch in hervoice, and he found himself with an impulse to take her in his arms. Itwas very puzzling. He knew he loved Jessie Arthur; he remembered thequestion Mary had once asked him--could he be in love with two girls atthe same time? It was not in accord with any moral code that had beenimpressed upon him, but apparently he could!

SECTION 32. 

He went out to the street, where his brother was pacing up and down in aferment. The "hardware drummer" had made another effort to start aconversation, and had been told to go to hell--no less!

"Well, are you through now?" Edward demanded, taking out his irritationon Hal. 

"Yes, " replied the other. "I suppose so. " He realised that Edward wouldnot be concerned about Edstrom's broken arm. 

"Then, for God's sake, get some clothes on and let's have some food. "

"All right, " said Hal. But his answer was listless, and the other lookedat him sharply. Even by the moonlight Edward could see the lines in theface of his younger brother, and the hollows around his eyes. For thefirst time he realised how deeply these experiences were cutting intothe boy's soul. "You poor kid!" he exclaimed, with sudden feeling. ButHal did not answer; he did not want sympathy, he did not want anything!

Edward made a gesture of despair. "God knows, I don't know what to dofor you!"

They started back to the hotel, and on the way Edward cast about in hismind for a harmless subject of conversation. He mentioned that he hadforeseen the shutting up of the stores, and had purchased an outfit forhis brother. There was no need to thank him, he added grimly; he had nointention of travelling to Western City in company with a hobo. 

So the young miner had a bath, the first real one in a long time. (Neveragain would it be possible for ladies to say in Hal Warner's presencethat the poor might at least keep clean!) He had a shave; he trimmed hisfinger-nails, and brushed his hair, and dressed himself as a gentleman. In spite of himself he found his cheerfulness partly restored. A strangeand wonderful sensation--to be dressed once more as a gentleman. Hethought of the saying of the old negro, who liked to stub his toe, because it felt so good when it stopped hurting!

They went out to find a restaurant, and on the way one last misadventurebefell Edward. Hal saw an old miner walking past, and stopped with acry: "Mike!" He forgot all at once that he was a gentleman; the oldminer forgot it also. He stared for one bewildered moment, then herushed at Hal and seized him in the hug of a mountain grizzly. 

"My buddy! My buddy!" he cried, and gave Hal a prodigious thump on theback. "By Judas!" And he gave him a thump with the other hand. "Hey! youold son-of-a-gun!" And he gave him a hairy kiss!

But in the very midst of these raptures it dawned over him that therewas something wrong about his buddy. He drew back, staring. "You gotgood clothes! You got rich, hey?"

Evidently the old fellow had heard no rumour concerning Hal's secret. "I've been doing pretty well, " Hal said. 

"What you work at, hey?"

"I been working at a strike in North Valley. "

"What's that? You make money working at strike?"

Hal laughed, but did not explain. "What you working at?"

"I work at strike too--all alone strike. "

"No job?"

"I work two days on railroad. Got busted track up there. Pay metwo-twenty-five a day. Then no more job. "

"Have you tried the mines?"

"What? Me? They got me all right! I go up to San José. Pit-boss say, 'Get the hell out of here, you old groucher! You don't get no more jobsin this district!'"

Hal looked Mike over, and saw that his dirty old face was drawn andwhite, belying the feeble cheerfulness of his words. "We're going tohave something to eat, " he said. "Won't you come with us?"

"Sure thing!" said Mike, with alacrity. "I go easy on grub now. "

Hal introduced "Mr. Edward Warner, " who said "How do you do?" Heaccepted gingerly the calloused paw which the old Slovak held out tohim, but he could not keep the look of irritation from his face. Hispatience was utterly exhausted. He had hoped to find a decent restaurantand have some real food; but now, of course, he could not enjoyanything, with this old gobbler in front of him. 

They entered an all-night lunch-room, where Hal and Mike orderedcheese-sandwiches and milk, and Edward sat and wondered at his brother'sability to eat such food. Meantime the two cronies told each other theirstories, and Old Mike slapped his knee and cried out with delight overHal's exploits. "Oh, you buddy!" he exclaimed; then, to Edward, "Ain'the a daisy, hey?" And he gave Edward a thump on the shoulder. "By Judas, they don't beat my buddy!"

Mike Sikoria had last been seen by Hal from the window of the NorthValley jail, when he had been distributing the copies of Hal'ssignature, and Bud Adams had taken him in charge. The mine-guard hadmarched him into a shed in back of the power-house, where he had foundKauser and Kalovac, two other fellows who had been arrested whilehelping in the distribution. 

Mike detailed the experience with his usual animation. "'Hey, MisterBud, ' I say, 'if you going to send me down canyon, I want to get mythings. ' 'You go to hell for your things, ' says he. And then I say, 'Mister Bud, I want to get my time. ' And he says, 'I give you plentytime right here!' And he punch me and throw me over. Then he grab me up'again and pull me outside, and I see big automobile waiting, and I say, 'Holy Judas! I get ride in automobile! Here I am, old fellow fifty-sevenyears old, never been in automobile ride all my days. I think always Idie and never get in automobile ride!' We go down canyon, and I lookround and see them mountains, and feel nice cool wind in my face, and Isay, 'Bully for you, Mister Bud, I don't never forget this automobile. Idon't have such good time any day all my life. ' And he say, 'Shut yourface, you old wop!' Then we come out on prairie, we go up in BlackHills, and they stop, and say, 'Get out here, you sons o' guns. ' Andthey leave us there all alone. They say, 'You come back again, we catchyou and we rip the guts out of you!' They go away fast, and we got towalk seven hours, us fellers, before we come to a house! But I don'tmind that, I begged some grub, and then I got job mending track; only Idon't find out if you get out of jail, and I think maybe I lose my buddyand never see him no more. "

Here the old man stopped, gazing affectionately at Hal. "I write youletter to North Valley, but I don't hear nothing, and I got to walk allthe way on railroad track to look for you. "

How was it? Hal wondered. He had encountered naked horror in thiscoal-country--yet here he was, not entirely glad at the thought ofleaving it! He would miss Old Mike Sikoria, his hairy kiss and hisgrizzly-bear hug!

He struck the old man dumb by pressing a twenty-dollar bill into hishand. Also he gave him the address of Edstrom and Mary, and a note toJohann Hartman, who might use him to work among the Slovaks who camedown into the town. Hal explained that he had to go back to Western Citythat night, but that he would never forget his old friend, and would seethat he had a good job. He was trying to figure out some occupation forthe old man on his father's country-place. A pet grizzly!

Train-time came, and the long line of dark sleepers rolled in by thedepot-platform. It was late--after midnight; but, nevertheless, therewas Old Mike. He was in awe of Hal now, with his fine clothes and histwenty-dollar bills; but, nevertheless, under stress of his emotion, hegave him one more hug, and one more hairy kiss. "Good-bye, my buddy!" hecried. "You come back, my buddy! I don't forget my buddy!" And when thetrain began to move, he waved his ragged cap, and ran along the platformto get a last glimpse, to call a last farewell. When Hal turned into thecar, it was with more than a trace of moisture in his eyes. 

POSTSCRIPT

From previous experiences the writer has learned that many people, reading a novel such as "King Coal, " desire to be informed as to whetherit is true to fact. They write to ask if the book is meant to be sotaken; they ask for evidence to convince themselves and others. Havinganswered thousands of such letters in the course of his life, it seemsto the author the part of common-sense to answer some of them inadvance. 

"King Coal" is a picture of the life of the workers in unorganisedlabour-camps in many parts of America, The writer has avoided naming adefinite place, for the reason that such conditions are to be found asfar apart as West Virginia, Alabama, Michigan, Minnesota, and Colorado. Most of the details of his picture were gathered in the last-namedstate, which the writer visited on three occasions during and just afterthe great coal-strike of 1913-14. The book gives a true picture ofconditions and events observed by him at this time. Practically all thecharacters are real persons, and every incident which has socialsignificance is not merely a true incident, but a typical one. The lifeportrayed in "King Coal" is the life that is lived to-day by hundreds ofthousands of men, women and children in this "land of the free. "

The reader who wishes evidence may be accommodated. There was never astrike more investigated than the Colorado coal-strike. The materialabout it in the writer's possession cannot be less than eight millionwords, the greater part of it sworn testimony taken under governmentsupervision. There is, first, the report of the Congressional Committee, a government document of three thousand closely printed pages, about twomillion words; an equal amount of testimony given before the U. S. Commission on Industrial Relations, also a government document; aspecial report on the Colorado strike, prepared for the same commission, a book of 189 pages, supporting every contention of this story; aboutfour hundred thousand words of testimony given before a committeeappointed at the suggestion of the Governor of Colorado; a report madeby the Rev. Henry A. Atkinson, who investigated the strike asrepresentative of the Federal Council of the Churches of Christ inAmerica, and of the Social Service Commission of the CongregationalChurches; the report of an elaborate investigation by the Colorado statemilitia; the bulletins issued by both sides during the controversy; thetestimony given at various coroners' inquests; and, finally, articles bydifferent writers to be found in the files of _Everybody's Magazine_, the _Metropolitan Magazine_, the _Survey_, _Harper's Weekly_, and_Collier's Weekly_, all during the year 1914. 

The writer prepared a collection of extracts from these various sources, meaning to publish them in this place; but while the manuscript was inthe hands of the publishers, there appeared one document, which, in theweight of its authority, seemed to discount all others. A decision wasrendered by the Supreme Court of the State of Colorado, in a case whichincluded the most fundamental of the many issues raised in "King Coal. "It is not often that the writer of a novel of contemporary life is sofortunate as to have the truth of his work passed upon and establishedby the highest judicial tribunal of the community!

In the elections of November, 1914, in Huerfano County, Colorado, J. B. Farr, Republican candidate for re-election as sheriff, a person knownthroughout the coal-country as "the King of Huerfano County, " wasreturned as elected by a majority of 329 votes. His rival, theDemocratic candidate, contested the election, alleging "malconduct, fraud and corruption. " The district court found in Farr's favour, andthe case was appealed on error to the Supreme Court of the State. OnJune 21st, 1916, after Farr had served nearly the whole of his term ofoffice, the Supreme Court handed down a decision which unseated him andthe entire ticket elected with him, finding in favour of the oppositionticket in all cases and upon all grounds charged. 

The decision is long--about ten thousand words, and its legaltechnicalities would not interest the reader. It will suffice to reprintthe essential paragraphs. The reader is asked to give these paragraphscareful study, considering, not merely the specific offence denounced bythe court, but its wider implications. The offence was one sounprecedented that the justices of the court, men chosen for theirlearning in the history of offences, were moved to say: "We find no suchexample of fraud within the books, and must seek the letter and spiritof the law in a free government, as a scale in which to weigh suchconduct. " And let it be noted, this "crime without a name" was not acrime of passion, but of policy; it was a crime deliberately planned andcarried out by profit-seeking corporations of enormous power. Let thereader imagine the psychology of the men of great wealth who orderedthis crime, as a means of keeping and increasing their wealth; let himrealise what must be the attitude of such men to their helpless workers;and then let him ask himself whether there is any act portrayed in "KingCoal" which men of such character would shrink from ordering. 

The Court decision first gives an outline of the case, using for themost part the statements of the counsel for the defendant, Farr; so thatfor practical purposes the following may be taken as the coal companies'own account of their domain: "Round the shaft of each mine are clusteredthe tipple, the mine office, the shops, sheds and outbuildings; andhuddled close by, within a stone's throw, cottages of the miners builton the land of, and owned by, the mining company. All the dwellers inthe camp are employés of the mine. There is no other industry. This is'the camp. ' Of the eight 'closed camps' it appears that practically thesame conditions existed in all of them, and those conditions were ingeneral that members of the United Mine Workers of America, theirorganisers or agitators, were prevented from coming into the camps, sofar as it was possible to keep them out, and to this end guards werestationed about them. Of the eight 'closed camps' one of them, 'Walsen, 'was, and at the time of the trial still was, enclosed by a fence erectedat the beginning of the strike in October, 1913: Rouse and Cameron werepartly, but never entirely, enclosed by fences. It is admitted that allpersons entering these camps and precincts were required by thecompanies to have passes, and it is contended that this was an'industrial necessity. '"

The Court then goes on as follows:

"The Federal troops entered the district in May of 1914, and thetestimony is in agreement that no serious acts of violence occurredthereafter, and that order was preserved up to and subsequent to theelection, and to the time of this trial. 

"It was under this condition that in July, 1914, the Board of CountyCommissioners changed certain of the election precincts so as toconstitute each of such camps an election precinct, and with but oneexception where a few ranches were included, these precincts were madeto conform to the fences and lines around each camp, protected by fencesin some instances and with armed guards in all cases. Thus each electionprecinct by this unparalleled act of the commissioners was placedexclusively within and upon the private grounds and under the privatecontrol of a coal corporation, which autocratically declared who shouldand who should not enter upon the territory of this political entity ofthe state, so purposely bounded by the county commissioners. 

"With but one exception all the lands and buildings within each of theseelection precincts as so created, were owned or controlled by the coalcorporations; every person resident within such precincts was an employéof these private corporations or their allied companies, with the singleexception: every judge, clerk or officer of election with the exceptionof a saloon keeper, and partner of Farr, was an employé of thecoal-companies. 

"The polling places were upon the grounds, and in the buildings of thesecompanies; the registration lists were kept within the private officesor buildings of such companies, and used and treated as their privateproperty. 

"Thus were the public election districts and the public electionmachinery turned over to the absolute domination and imperial control ofprivate coal corporations, and used by them as absolutely and privatelyas were their mines, to and for their own private purposes, and uponwhich public territory no man might enter for either public or privatepurpose, save and except by the express permission of these privatecorporations. 

"This right to determine who should enter such so called electionprecincts, appears from the record to have been exercised as against allclasses; merchants, tradesmen or what not, and whether the business ofsuch person was public or private. Indeed, it appears that in oneinstance the governor and adjutant general of the state while onofficial business, were denied admission to one of these closed camps. And that on the day of election, the Democratic watchers and challengersfor Walsen Mine precinct, one of which was Neelley, the Democraticcandidate for sheriff, were forced to seek and secure a detail ofFederal soldiers to escort them into the precinct and to the polls, andthat such soldiers remained as such guard during the day and a part ofthe night.... 

"But if there was any doubt concerning the condition of the closed campsand precincts, and the exclusion of representatives of the Democraticparty from discussing the issues of the campaign within the precinctscomprising the closed camps, it is entirely removed by the testimony ofthe witness Weitzel, for contestee (Farr). He testified that he was aresident of Pueblo, and was manager of the Colorado Fuel and IronCompany; that Rouse, Lester, Ideal, Cameron, Walsen, Pictou and McNallyare camps under his jurisdiction. That he had general charge of thecamps and that there was no company official in Colorado superior to himin this respect except the president; that the superintendent and otheremployés are under his supervision; that the Federal troops came aboutthe 1st of May, 1914, and continued until January, 1915. That in allthose camps he tried to keep out the people who were antagonistic to thecompany's interests; that it was private property and so treated by hiscompany; that through him the company and its officials assumed toexercise authority as to who might or who might not enter; that ifpersons could assure or satisfy the man at the gate, or thesuperintendent that they were not connected with the United MineWorkers, or in their employ as agitators, they were let into the camp. That 'no one we were fighting against got in for social intercourse orany other'; that he and officials under him assumed to pass upon thequestion of whether or not any person coming there came for the purposeof agitation. That Mr. Mitchell, the chairman of the Democraticcommittee, as he recalled it, was identified with the agitators, ran anewspaper and was connected either directly or indirectly with theUnited Mine Workers; that Mr. Neelley, Democratic candidate for sheriff, was identified with the strikers, and that he would be considered as anobjectionable character. That when the Federal troops came, theyrestored peace and normal conditions; there was no rioting after that, there was no fear on the part of the company when the Federal soldierswere here, except fear of agitation. Asked if he guarded the campagainst discussion, against the espousal of the cause of the company, hereplied, 'We didn't encourage it. ' The company would not encourageorganisers to come into the camp, no matter how peacefully theyconducted themselves; that the company did not permit men to come intothe camp to discuss with the employés certain principles, or to carry onarguments with them or to appeal to their reason, or to discuss withthem things along reasonable lines, because it was known from experiencethat if they were allowed to come in they would resort to threats ofviolence. They might not resort to any violence at the time, but itmight result in the people becoming frightened and leaving, and theywere anxious to hold their employés. He was asked whether or not one hadbusiness there depended upon the decision of the official in charge; hereplied that the superintendent probably would inquire of him what hisbusiness was. That any one that Farr asked for a permit to enter thecamp would likely get it.... 

"There was but one attempt to hold a political meeting in the closedprecincts. Joseph Patterson, who attempted to hold this meeting, testifies concerning it as follows:

"Was at a political meeting at Oakview. Had been a warm, personal friendof Mr. Jones, the assistant superintendent of the Oakview mine, and hadwritten him a letter asking the courtesy of holding a political meeting. On Saturday evening received a letter that he could hold such meeting. On the day previous to the meeting witness received a 'phone messagefrom the assistant superintendent, in which the latter inquired whetherwitness was coming up there to cause any trouble, and witness replied, certainly not, and if the superintendent felt that way they would notcome. Had advised the superintendent that he and others were going tohold a political meeting for the Democratic party. Jones, thesuperintendent, stated that witness should come to the office that nightbefore he went to the school house for the purpose of the meeting; whenwitness arrived at the meeting there were about six or eight Englishspeaking people and a dozen to fourteen Mexicans. The superintendent, Mr. Morgan, and Mr. Price, were outside of the door most of the time. Witness noticed that the first few fellows that came toward the schoolhouse, the superintendent stopped and talked with them and they turnedback to the camp. This happened several times: as soon as they talkedwith Morgan they turned back. After he saw that, witness went into theschool house and said that it was no use to hold any meeting; that itseemed that nobody was allowed to come. This meeting was supposed to bein a public school house on the company property. Had to get permissionfrom the superintendent of the Oakview mining Company to hold saidpolitical meeting. ".... 

"It appears that the number of registered voters in the closed precinctswas very largely in excess of the number of votes cast, and this ofitself was sufficient to demand an open and fair investigation as to thequalifications of the alleged voters. 

"It appears from the testimony that in these closed precincts many ofthose who voted were unable to speak or read the English language, andthat in numerous instances, the election judges assisted such, bymarking the ballots for them in violation of the law. Again, it appearsthat the ballots were printed so that.... (The decision here goes on toexplain in detail a device whereby the ballot was so printed that votingcould be controlled with the help of a card device. ) Thus such voterswere not choosing candidates, but, under the direction of the companies, were simply placing the cross where they found the particular letter Ron the ballot, so that the ballot was not an expression of opinion orjudgment, not an intelligent exercise of suffrage, but plainly adictated coal company vote, as much so as if the agents of thesecompanies had marked the ballots without the intervention of the voter. No more fraudulent and infamous prostitution of the ballot isconceivable.... 

"Counsel contend that the closed precincts were an 'industrialnecessity, ' and for such reason the conduct of the coal companies duringthe campaign was justified. However such conduct may be viewed whenconfined to the private property of such corporations in their privateoperation, the fact remains that there is no justification when theywere dealing with such territory after it had been dedicated to a publicuse, and particularly involving the right of the people to exercisetheir duties and powers as electors in a popular government. 

"The fact appears that the members of the board of county commissionersand all other county officers were Republicans, and as stated by counselfor the contestees, the success of the Republican candidates wasconsidered by the coal companies, vital to their interests. The closerelationship of the coal companies and the Republican officials andcandidates appears to have been so marked both before and during thecampaign, as to justify the conclusion that such officers regarded theirduty to the coal companies as paramount to their duty to the publicservice. To say that the closed precincts were not so created to suitthe convenience and interests of these corporations, or that they werenot so formed with the advice and consent of these corporations, is todiscredit human intelligence, and to deny human experience. The plainpurpose of the formation of the new precincts was that the coalcompanies might have opportunity to conduct and control the electionstherein, just as such elections were conducted. The irresistibleconclusion is that these close precincts were so formed by the countycommissioners with the connivance of the representatives of the coalcompanies, if not by their express command. 

"There can be no free, open and fair election as contemplated by theconstitution, where private industrial corporations so throttle publicopinion, deny the free exercise of choice by sovereign electors, dictateand control all election officers, prohibit public discussion of publicquestions, and imperially command what citizens may and what citizensmay not, peacefully and for lawful purposes, enter upon election orpublic territory.... 

"We find no such example of fraud within the books, and must seek theletter and spirit of the law in a free government, as a scale in whichto weigh such conduct.... 

"The denial of the right of peaceful assemblage, can have been for noother purpose than to influence the election. There was no disturbancein any of these precincts after they were created, up to the time of theelection, and up to the time of this trial. The Federal troops werepresent at all times to preserve the peace and to protect life andproperty. There was no reason to anticipate any disturbance. Thereforethis bold denial was an inexcusable and corrupt violation of the naturaland inalienable rights of the citizens. 

"The defence relies not upon conflicting evidence, but upon thecontention that the conduct of the election was justified as an'industrial necessity. '

"We have heard much in this state in recent years as to the denial ofinherent and constitutional rights of citizens being justified by'military necessity, ' but this we believe is the first time in ourexperience when the violation of the fundamental rights of freemen hasbeen attempted to be justified by the plea of 'industrial necessity. '

"Even if we were to concede that there may be some palliation in theplea of military necessity on the theory that such acts purport to beacts of the government itself, through its military arm and with thepurpose of preserving the public peace and safety: yet that a privatecorporation, with its privately armed forces, may violate the mostsacred right of the citizenship of the state and find lawful excuse inthe plea of private 'industrial necessity' savours too much of anarchyto find approval by courts of justice. 

"This case clearly comes within another exception to the rule, in thatit is plain that the findings were influenced by the bias and prejudiceof the trial judge. 

"A careful reading of the record discloses the rejection by the court ofso much palpably pertinent and competent testimony offered by thecontestors, as to force the conclusion that the trial judge wasinfluenced by bias and prejudice, to the extent at least, charged in theapplication for a change of venue, and sufficient in itself to justify areversal of judgment.... 

"For the foregoing reasons the judgment of the court in each case beforeus, is reversed, and the entire poll in the said precincts ofNiggerhead, Ravenwood, Walsen Mine, Oakview, Pryor, Rouse and Cameron isannulled, and held for naught, and the election in each of saidprecincts is hereby set aside. This leaves a substantial andunquestioned majority for each of the contestors in the county, andwhich entitles each contestor to be declared elected to the office forwhich he was a candidate. 

"We find further, that J. B. Farr, the defendant in error, was not andis not the duly elected sheriff of Huerfano county, and that E. L. Neelley, the plaintiff in error, was and is the duly elected sheriff ofsaid county. It is therefore ordered that the said county, and that thesaid E. L. Neelley, immediately and upon qualification as required bylaw, enter and discharge the duties of the said office of sheriff ofHuerfano county.... "

So much for the court opinion upon coal-camp politics. In relationthereto, the writer has only one comment to offer. Let the reader notdrop the matter with the idea that because one set of corrupt officialshave been turned out of office in one American county, therefore justicehas been vindicated, and there is no longer need to be concerned aboutthe conditions portrayed in "King Coal. " The defeat of the "King ofHuerfano County" is but one step in a long road which the miners ofColorado have to travel if ever they are to be free men. The industrialpower of the great corporations remains untouched by this decision; andthis power is greater than any political power ever wielded by thegovernment of Huerfano County, or even of the state of Colorado. Thisindustrial power is a deep, far-spreading root; and so long as it isallowed to thrive, it will send up again and again the poisonous plantof political "malconduct, fraud and corruption. " The citizens andworkers of such industrial communities, whether in Colorado, in WestVirginia, Alabama, Michigan or Minnesota, in the Chicago stock-yards, the steel-mills of Pittsburg, the woollen-mills of Lawrence or thesilk-mills of Paterson, will find that they have neither peace norfreedom, until they have abolished the system of production for profit, and established in the field of industry what they are supposed to havealready in the field of politics--a government of the people, by thepeople, for the people. 

NOTE: On the day that the author finished the reading of the proofs of"King Coal, " the following item appeared in his daily newspaper:

COLORADO MINE WORKERS ASK LEAVE TO STRIKE

[BY A. P. NIGHT WIRE]

DENVER (Colo. ), June 14. --Officers of the United Mine Workersrepresenting members of that organisation employed by the Colorado Fueland Iron Company, have telegraphed their national officers askingpermission to strike. 

At the morning session a resolution was adopted expressingdisapprobation of the action of J. F. Welborn, president of the fuelcompany, for failure to attend the meeting, which was a part of the"peace programme" to prevent industrial differences in the State duringthe war. 

The grievances of the men, according to John McLennan, spokesman forthem, centre about the operation of the so-called "Rockefeller plan" atthe mines. McLennan said the failure of Mr. Welborn to attend themeeting and discuss these grievances with the men precipitated thestrike agitation. 

THE END