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diff --git a/7522-0.txt b/7522-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dee554f --- /dev/null +++ b/7522-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14758 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of King Coal, by Upton Sinclair + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: King Coal + A Novel + +Author: Upton Sinclair + +Release Date: February, 2005 [EBook #7522] +This file was first posted on May 13, 2003 +Last Updated: February 23, 2024 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Eric Eldred, Beth Trapaga and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KING COAL *** + + + + +KING COAL + +_A NOVEL_ + +By Upton Sinclair + + + +TO + +MARY CRAIG KIMBROUGH + +To whose persistence in the perilous task of tearing her husband’s +manuscript to pieces, the reader is indebted for the absence of most of +the 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 consecrated +their lives to the agitation for social justice, and who have also +enrolled their art in the service of a set purpose. A great and +non-temporizing enthusiast, he never flinched from making sacrifices. +Now and then he attained great material successes as a writer, but +invariably he invested and lost his earnings in enterprises by which he +had hoped to ward off injustice and to further human happiness. Though +disappointed time after time, he never lost faith nor courage to start +again. + +As a convinced socialist and eager advocate of unpopular doctrines, as +an exposer of social conditions that would otherwise be screened away +from the public eye, the most influential journals of his country were +as a rule arraigned against him. Though always a poor man, though never +willing to grant to publishers the concessions essential for many +editions and general popularity, he was maliciously represented to be a +carpet knight of radicalism and a socialist millionaire. He has several +times been obliged to change his publisher, which goes to prove that he +is no seeker of material gain. + +Upton Sinclair is one of the writers of the present time most deserving +of a sympathetic interest. He shows his patriotism as an American, not +by joining in hymns to the very conditional kind of liberty peculiar to +the United States, but by agitating for infusing it with the elixir of +real liberty, the liberty of humanity. He does not limit himself to a +dispassionate and entertaining description of things as they are. But in +his appeals to the honour and good-fellowship of his compatriots, he +opens their eyes to the appalling conditions under which wage-earning +slaves are living by the hundreds of thousands. His object is to better +these unnatural conditions, to obtain for the very poorest a glimpse of +light and happiness, to make even them realise the sensation of cosy +well-being and the comfort of knowing that justice is to be found also +for them. + +This time Upton Sinclair has absorbed himself in the study of the +miner’s life in the lonesome pits of the Rocky Mountains, and his +sensitive and enthusiastic mind has brought to the world an American +parallel to GERMINAL, Emile Zola’s technical masterpiece. + +The conditions described in the two books are, however, essentially +different. While Zola’s working-men are all natives of France, one meets +in Sinclair’s book a motley variety of European emigrants, speaking a +Babel of languages and therefore debarred from forming some sort of +association to protect themselves against being exploited by the +anonymous limited Company. Notwithstanding this natural bar against +united action on the part of the wage-earning slaves, the Company feels +far from at ease and jealously guards its interests against any attempt +of organising the men. + +A young American of the upper class, with great sympathy for the +downtrodden and an honest desire to get a first-hand knowledge of their +conditions in order to help them, decides to take employment in a mine +under a fictitious name and dressed like a working-man. His unusual way +of trying to obtain work arouses suspicion. He is believed to be a +professional strike-leader sent out to organise the miners against their +exploiters, and he is not only refused work, but thrashed mercilessly. +When finally he succeeds in getting inside, he discovers with growing +indignation the shameless and inhuman way in which those who unearth the +black coal are being exploited. + +These are the fundamental ideas of the book, but they give but a faint +notion of the author’s poetic attitude. Most beautifully is this shown +in Hal’s relation to a young Irish girl, Red Mary. She is poor, and her +daily life harsh and joyless, but nevertheless her wonderful grace is +one of the outstanding features of the book. The first impression of +Mary is that of a Celtic Madonna with a tender heart for little +children. She develops into a Valküre of the working-class, always ready +to fight for the worker’s right. + +The last chapters of the book give a description of the miners’ revolt +against the Company. They insist upon their right to choose a deputy to +control the weighing-in of the coal, and upon having the mines sprinkled +regularly to prevent explosion. They will also be free to buy their food +and utensils wherever they like, even in shops not belonging to the +Company. + +In a postscript Sinclair explains the fundamental facts on which his +work of art has been built up. Even without the postscript one could not +help feeling convinced that the social conditions he describes are true +to life. The main point is that Sinclair has not allowed himself to +become inspired by hackneyed phrases that bondage and injustice and the +other evils and crimes of Kingdoms have been banished from Republics, +but that he is earnestly pointing to the honeycombed ground on which the +greatest modern money-power has been built. The fundament of this power +is not granite, but mines. It lives and breathes in the light, because +it has thousands of unfortunates toiling in the darkness. It lives and +has 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; a +straggling assemblage of stores and saloons from which a number of +branch railroads ran up into the canyons, feeding the coal-camps. +Through the week it slept peacefully; but on Saturday nights, when the +miners came trooping down, and the ranchmen came in on horseback and in +automobiles, it wakened to a seething life. + +At the railroad station, one day late in June, a young man alighted from +a 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 faded +suit of clothes, purchased in a quarter of his home city where the +Hebrew merchants stand on the sidewalks to offer their wares; also a +soiled blue shirt without a tie, and a pair of heavy boots which had +seen much service. Strapped on his back was a change of clothing and a +blanket, and in his pockets a comb, a toothbrush, and a small pocket +mirror. + +Sitting in the smoking-car of the train, the young man had listened to +the talk of the coal-camps, seeking to correct his accent. When he got +off the train he proceeded down the track and washed his hands with +cinders, and lightly powdered some over his face. After studying the +effect 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 he +could muster, he inquired of the proprietress, “Can you tell me how to +get to the Pine Creek mine?” + +The woman looked at him with no suspicion in her glance. She gave the +desired information, and he took a trolley and got off at the foot of +the Pine Creek canyon, up which he had a thirteen-mile trudge. It was +a sunshiny day, with the sky crystal clear, and the mountain air +invigourating. The young man seemed to be happy, and as he strode on +his 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 which +modern youth has begun to trouble its elders. As a marching tune, the +song was a trifle swift for the grades of a mountain canyon; Warner +could 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 and +curiosity; also he had some change in his trousers’ pocket, and a ten +dollar bill, for extreme emergencies, sewed up in his belt. If a +photographer for Peter Harrigan’s General Fuel Company could have got a +snap-shot of him that morning, it might have served as a “portrait of a +coal-miner” in any “prosperity” publication. + +But the climb was a stiff one, and before the end the traveller became +aware of the weight of his boots, and sang no more. Just as the sun was +sinking up the canyon, he came upon his destination--a gate across the +road, with a sign upon it: + +PINE CREEK COAL CO. + +PRIVATE PROPERTY + +TRESPASSING FORBIDDEN + +Hal approached the gate, which was of iron bars, and padlocked. After +standing for a moment to get ready his surly voice, he kicked upon the +gate 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’s +a 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 the +companies were ravenous for men; he had supposed that a workingman would +only have to knock, and it would be opened unto him. “They didn’t give +me no papers,” he said, and added, hastily, “I got drunk and they fired +me.” He felt quite sure that getting drunk would not bar one from a coal +camp. + +But the two made no move to open the gate. The second man studied him +deliberately from top to toe, and Hal was uneasily aware of possible +sources of suspicion. “I’m all right,” he declared. “Let me in, and I’ll +show you.” + +Still the two made no move. They looked at each other, and then Bill +answered, “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 I +can pay for my keep--or at least for a bunk to-night?” + +“There’s nothin’ for you,” said Bill, and turned and went into the +cabin. + +The other man waited and watched, with a decidedly hostile look. Hal +strove to plead with him, but thrice he repeated, “Down the canyon with +you.” So at last Hal gave up, and moved down the road a piece and sat +down to reflect. + +It really seemed an absurdly illogical proceeding, to post a notice, +“Hands Wanted,” in conspicuous places on the roadside, causing a man to +climb thirteen miles up a mountain canyon, only to be turned off without +explanation. Hal was convinced that there must be jobs inside the +stockade, and that if only he could get at the bosses he could persuade +them. He got up and walked down the road a quarter of a mile, to where +the railroad-track crossed it, winding up the canyon. A train of +“empties” was passing, bound into the camp, the cars rattling and +bumping as the engine toiled up the grade. This suggested a solution of +the difficulty. + +It was already growing dark. Crouching slightly, Hal approached the +cars, and when he was in the shadows, made a leap and swung onto one of +them. 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 saw +the Cerberus of the gate running down a path to the track, his +companion, 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 the +other 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 gate +had many words, most of them unprintable, and he seized Hal by the +collar, and shoving him violently, planted a kick upon that portion of +his anatomy which nature has constructed for the reception of kicks. Hal +recovered his balance, and, as the man was still pursuing him, he turned +and 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; he +now squared off, prepared to receive the second of his assailants. But +in coal-camps matters are not settled in that primitive way, it +appeared. The man halted, and the muzzle of a revolver came suddenly +under Hal’s nose. “Stick ’em up!” said the man. + +This was a slang which Hal had never heard, but the meaning was +inescapable; he “stuck ’em up.” At the same moment his first assailant +rushed at him, and dealt him a blow over the eye which sent him +sprawling backward upon the stones. + + + +SECTION 2. + +When Hal came to himself again he was in darkness, and was conscious of +agony from head to toe. He was lying on a stone floor, and he rolled +over, but soon rolled back again, because there was no part of his back +which was not sore. Later on, when he was able to study himself, he +counted 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 hear +somebody snoring, and he called half a dozen times, in a louder and +louder voice, until at last, hearing a growl, he inquired, “Can you give +me a drink of water?” + +“I’ll give you hell if you wake me up again,” said the voice; after +which Hal lay in silence until morning. + +A couple of hours after daylight, a man entered his cell. “Get up,” said +he, 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 sleeve +of his coat, marched him out of the cell and down a little corridor into +a sort of office, where sat a red-faced personage with a silver shield +upon the lapel of his coat. Hal’s two assailants of the night before +stood nearby. + +“Well, kid?” said the personage in the chair. “Had a little time to +think 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 can +remember.” + +“Go on!” said the other. “What you givin’ us?” And then, to the two +watchmen, “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 the +amount stated, also a cheap watch, a strong pocket knife, the +tooth-brush, comb and mirror, and two white handkerchiefs, which they +looked 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 and +heels of the boots, and to cut open the lining of the clothing. So they +found the ten dollars in the belt, which they tossed onto the table with +the other belongings. Then the personage with the shield announced, “I +fine you twelve dollars and sixty-seven cents, and your watch and +knife.” 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 you +can, or you’ll go in your shirt-tail.” + +But Hal was angry enough to have been willing to go in his skin. “You +tell 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 propose +to 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 my +clothes on.” And he proceeded to dress as quickly as possible; he rolled +up his blanket and spare clothing, and started for the door. + +“Remember,” said the marshal, “straight down the canyon with you, and if +you 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 as +an escort. He was on the same mountain road, but in the midst of the +company-village. In the distance he saw the great building of the +breaker, and heard the incessant roar of machinery and falling coal. He +marched past a double lane of company houses and shanties, where +slattern women in doorways and dirty children digging in the dust of the +roadside paused and grinned at him--for he limped as he walked, and it +was evident enough what had happened to him. + +Hal had come with love and curiosity. The love was greatly +diminished--evidently this was not the force which kept the wheels of +industry a-roll. But the curiosity was greater than ever. What was there +so carefully hidden inside this coal-camp stockade? + +Hal turned and looked at Bill, who had showed signs of humour the day +before. “See here,” said he, “you fellows have got my money, and you’ve +blacked my eye and kicked me blue, so you ought to be satisfied. Before +I 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 trying +to sneak in here?” + +“Yes,” said Hal; “but that’s not what I mean. Why didn’t you let me in +at first?” + +“If you wanted a job in a mine,” demanded the man, “why didn’t you go at +it 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 look +straight.” + +“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. “I +see you’re suspicious of me,” he said. “I’ll tell you the truth, if +you’ll let me.” Then, as the other did not forbid him, “I’m a college +boy, and I wanted to see life and shift for myself a while. I thought it +would 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 agitators +trying 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 and +satisfied them, you’d ’a been passed in the regular way. Or if you’d +went to the office down in Pedro and got a pass, you’d ’a been all +right. But when a guy turns up at the gate, and looks like a dude and +talks 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 breakfast +out of my money, I’ll be obliged.” + +“Breakfast is over,” said Bill. “You sit round till the pinyons gets +ripe.” He laughed; but then, mellowed by his own joke, he took a quarter +from his pocket and passed it to Hal. He opened the padlock on the gate +and saw him out with a grin; and so ended Hal’s first turn on the wheels +of industry. + + + +SECTION 3. + +Hal Warner started to drag himself down the road, but was unable to make +it. He got as far as a brooklet that came down the mountain-side, from +which he might drink without fear of typhoid; there he lay the whole +day, fasting. Towards evening a thunder-storm came up, and he crawled +under the shelter of a rock, which was no shelter at all. His single +blanket was soon soaked through, and he passed a night almost as +miserable 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 a +coal mine was not a foot-ball field, but it seemed to Hal that the net +impress of the two was very much the same. He congratulated himself that +his profession was not that of a union organiser. + +At dawn he dragged himself up, and continued his journey, weak from cold +and unaccustomed lack of food. In the course of the day he reached a +power-station near the foot of the canyon. He did not have the price of +a meal, and was afraid to beg; but in one of the group of buildings by +the 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 the +altitude, and as Hal found in the course of time, they explained the one +by the other--not explaining, however, why the altitude of the price was +always greater than the altitude of the store. Over the counter he saw a +sign: “We buy scrip at ten per cent discount.” He had heard rumours of a +state law forbidding payment of wages in “scrip”; but he asked no +questions, and carried off his very light pound of prunes, and sat down +by the roadside and munched them. + +Just beyond the power-house, down on the railroad track, stood a little +cabin with a garden behind it. He made his way there, and found a +one-legged old watchman. He asked permission to spend the night on the +floor of the cabin; and seeing the old fellow look at his black eye, he +explained, “I tried to get a job at the mine, and they thought I was a +union 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 any +harm for you to give me that.” + +“I’m not so sure,” the other answered. “However, you can spread your +blanket 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 slept +like a man untroubled by either love or curiosity. In the morning the +old fellow gave him a slice of corn bread and some young onions out of +his garden, which had a more delicious taste than any breakfast that had +ever been served him. When Hal thanked his host in parting, the latter +remarked: “All right, young fellow, there’s one thing you can do to pay +me, and that is, say nothing about it. When a man has grey hair on his +head and only one leg, he might as well be drowned in the creek as lose +his job.” + +Hal promised, and went his way. His bruises pained him less, and he was +able to walk. There were ranch-houses in sight--it was like coming back +suddenly 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 his +experiences. He took stock of his worldly goods and wondered if he still +looked like a dude. He recalled that he had a smile which had fascinated +the ladies; would it work in combination with a black eye? Having no +other means of support, he tried it on susceptible looking housewives, +and found it so successful that he was tempted to doubt the wisdom of +honest labour. He sang the Harrigan song no more, but instead the words +of 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 the +road, who sat by the railroad-track toasting some bacon over a fire. +They welcomed him, and after they had heard his story, adopted him into +the fraternity and instructed him in its ways of life. Pretty soon he +made the acquaintance of one who had been a miner, and was able to give +him the information he needed before climbing another canyon. + +“Dutch Mike” was the name this person bore, for reasons he did not +explain. He was a black-eyed and dangerous-looking rascal, and when the +subject of mines and mining was broached, he opened up the flood-gates +of an amazing reservoir of profanity. He was through with that game--Hal +or any other God-damned fool might have his job for the asking. It was +only because there were so many natural-born God-damned fools in the +world that the game could be kept going. “Dutch Mike” went on to relate +dreadful tales of mine-life, and to summon before him the ghosts of one +pit-boss after another, consigning them to the fires of eternal +perdition. + +“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 especially +constructed for the purpose of making him work, and every faculty he +possessed was devoted to foiling this plot. Sitting by a camp-fire near +the stream which ran down the valley, Hal had a merry time pointing out +to “Dutch Mike” how he worked harder at dodging work than other men +worked at working. The hobo did not seem to mind that, however--it was a +matter of principle with him, and he was willing to make sacrifices for +his convictions. Even when they had sent him to the work-house, he had +refused to work; he had been shut in a dungeon, and had nearly died on a +diet of bread and water, rather than work. If everybody would do the +same, he said, they would soon “bust things.” + +Hal took a fancy to this spontaneous revolutionist, and travelled with +him for a couple of days, in the course of which he pumped him as to +details of the life of a miner. Most of the companies used regular +employment agencies, as the guard had mentioned; but the trouble was, +these agencies got something from your pay for a long time--the bosses +were “in cahoots” with them. When Hal wondered if this were not against +the law, “Cut it out, Bo!” said his companion. “When you’ve had a job +for a while, you’ll know that the law in a coal-camp is what your boss +tells you.” The hobo went on to register his conviction that when one +man has the giving of jobs, and other men have to scramble for them, the +law would never have much to say in the deal. Hal judged this a profound +observation, and wished that it might be communicated to the professor +of 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 a +determined effort was being made just then to drive vagrants from the +neighbourhood--or to get them to work in the mines. Hal’s friend, who +slept with one eye open, made a break in the darkness, and Hal followed +him, getting under the guard of the raiders by a foot-ball trick. They +left their food and blankets behind them, but “Dutch Mike” made light of +this, and lifted a chicken from a roost to keep them cheerful through +the night hours, and stole a change of underclothing off a clothes-line +the next day. Hal ate the chicken, and wore the underclothing, thus +beginning his career in crime. + +Parting from “Dutch Mike,” he went back to Pedro. The hobo had told him +that saloon-keepers nearly always had friends in the coal-camps, and +could help a fellow to a job. So Hal began enquiring, and the second one +replied, Yes, he would give him a letter to a man at North Valley, and +if he got the job, the friend would deduct a dollar a month from his +pay. Hal agreed, and set out upon another tramp up another canyon, upon +the strength of a sandwich “bummed” from a ranch-house at the entrance +to the valley. At another stockaded gate of the General Fuel Company he +presented his letter, addressed to a person named O’Callahan, who turned +out also to be a saloon-keeper. + +The guard did not even open the letter, but passed Hal in at sight of +it, and he sought out his man and applied for work. The man said he +would 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, and +they bartered back and forth; finally, when Hal turned away and +threatened to appeal directly to the “super,” the saloon-keeper +compromised 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 from +the hoboes. He was going by the name of “Joe Smith,” which he judged +likely to be found on the payroll of any mine. He had more than a week’s +growth of beard to disguise him, and had picked up some profanity as +well. + +The saloon-keeper took him to interview Mr. Alec Stone, pit-boss in +Number 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 the +colic 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’ll +pay 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 stolen +underwear in his hand. + +“Well, chuck it there in the corner,” said the man; then suddenly he +stopped, 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 secret +soul was about to be read. “You have to swear to that, you know, before +you 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 the +paper 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 I +do.” + +“Well, don’t you go preachin’ it round here. We got our own +preacher--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 his +start in life. + + + +SECTION 5. + +The mule is notoriously a profane and godless creature; a blind alley +of Nature, so to speak, a mistake of which she is ashamed, and which +she does not permit to reproduce itself. The thirty mules under Hal’s +charge had been brought up in an environment calculated to foster the +worst tendencies 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, if he 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 to +roll about in green pastures. There was one of them called “Dago +Charlie,” who had learned to chew tobacco, and to rummage in the +pockets of the miners and their “buddies.” Not knowing how to spit out +the juice, he would make himself ill, and then he would swear off from +indulgence. But the drivers and the pit-boys knew his failing, and +would tempt “Dago Charlie” until he fell from grace. Hal soon +discovered this moral tragedy, and carried the pain of it in his soul +as he went about his all-day drudgery. + +He went down the shaft with the first cage, which was very early in the +morning. He fed and watered his charges, and helped to harness them. +Then, when the last four hoofs had clattered away, he cleaned out the +stalls, and mended harness, and obeyed the orders of any person older +than himself who happened to be about. + +Next to the mules, his torment was the “trapper-boys,” and other +youngsters with whom he came into contact. He was a newcomer, and so +they hazed him; moreover, he had an inferior job--there seemed to their +minds to be something humiliating and comic about the task of tending +mules. These urchins came from a score of nations of Southern Europe and +Asia; there were flat-faced Tartars and swarthy Greeks and shrewd-eyed +little Japanese. They spoke a compromise language, consisting mainly of +English curse words and obscenities; the filthiness which their minds +had spawned was incredible to one born and raised in the sunlight. They +alleged obscenities of their mothers and their grandmothers; also of the +Virgin Mary, the one mythological character they had heard of. Poor +little creatures of the dark, their souls grimed and smutted even more +quickly 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 dimly +lighted building of corrugated iron, where upon inquiry he was met by a +stout Russian, who told him he could be taken care of for twenty-seven +dollars a month, this including a cot in a room with eight other single +men. After deducting a dollar and a half a month for his saloon-keepers, +fifty cents for the company clergyman and a dollar for the company +doctor, fifty cents a month for wash-house privileges and fifty cents +for a sick and accident benefit fund, he had fourteen dollars a month +with which to clothe himself, to found a family, to provide himself with +beer and tobacco, and to patronise the libraries and colleges endowed by +the philanthropic owners of coal mines. + +Supper was nearly over at Reminitsky’s when he arrived; the floor looked +like the scene of a cannibal picnic, and what food was left was cold. It +was always to be this way with him, he found, and he had to make the +best of it. The dining-room of this boarding-house, owned and managed by +the G. F. C., brought to his mind the state prison, which he had once +visited--with its rows of men sitting in silence, eating starch and +grease out of tin-plates. The plates here were of crockery half an inch +thick, but the starch and grease never failed; the formula of +Reminitsky’s cook seemed to be, When in doubt add grease, and boil it +in. Even ravenous as Hal was after his long tramp and his labour below +ground, he could hardly swallow this food. On Sundays, the only time he +ate by daylight, the flies swarmed over everything, and he remembered +having heard a physician say that an enlightened man should be more +afraid of a fly than of a Bengal tiger. The boarding-house provided him +with a cot and a supply of vermin, but with no blanket, which was a +necessity in the mountain regions. So after supper he had to seek out +his boss, and arrange to get credit at the company-store. They were +willing to give a certain amount of credit, he found, as this would +enable the camp-marshal to keep him from straying. There was no law to +hold a man for debt--but Hal knew by this time how much a camp-marshal +cared for law. + + + +SECTION 6. + +For three days Hal toiled in the bowels of the mine, and ate and pursued +vermin at Reminitsky’s. Then came a blessed Sunday, and he had a couple +of free hours to see the sunlight and to get a look at the North Valley +camp. It was a village straggling along more than a mile of the mountain +canyon. In the centre were the great breaker-buildings, the shaft-house, +and the power-house with its tall chimneys; nearby were the +company-store and a couple of saloons. There were several +boarding-houses like Reminitsky’s, and long rows of board cabins +containing from two to four rooms each, some of them occupied by several +families. A little way up a slope stood a school-house, and another +small one-room building which served as a church; the clergyman +belonging to the General Fuel Company denomination. He was given the use +of the building, by way of start over the saloons, which had to pay a +heavy rental to the company; it seemed a proof of the innate perversity +of human nature that even in spite of this advantage, heaven was losing +out in the struggle against hell in the coal-camp. + +As one walked through this village, the first impression was of +desolation. The mountains towered, barren and lonely, scarred with the +wounds of geologic ages. In these canyons the sun set early in the +afternoon, the snow came early in the fall; everywhere Nature’s hand +seemed against man, and man had succumbed to her power. Inside the camps +one felt a still more cruel desolation--that of sordidness and +animalism. There were a few pitiful attempts at vegetable-gardens, but +the cinders and smoke killed everything, and the prevailing colour was +of grime. The landscape was strewn with ash-heaps, old wire and +tomato-cans, and smudged and smutty children playing. + +There was a part of the camp called “shanty-town,” where, amid miniature +mountains of slag, some of the lowest of the newly-arrived foreigners +had been permitted to build themselves shacks out of old boards, tin, +and sheets of tar-paper. These homes were beneath the dignity of +chicken-houses, yet in some of them a dozen people were crowded, men and +women sleeping on old rags and blankets on a cinder floor. Here the +babies swarmed like maggots. They wore for the most part a single ragged +smock, 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 and +curiosity, but both motives failed here. How could a man of sensitive +nerves, aware of the refinements and graces of life, learn to love these +people, who were an affront to his every sense--a stench to his +nostrils, a jabbering to his ear, a procession of deformities to his +eye? 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? So +spoke the haughty race-consciousness of the Anglo-Saxon, contemplating +these Mediterranean hordes, the very shape of whose heads was +objectionable. + +But Hal stuck it out; and little by little new vision came to him. +First of all, it was the fascination of the mines. They were old +mines--veritable cities tunnelled out beneath the mountains, the main +passages running for 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 the vastness and strangeness and loneliness of this +labyrinth of night. In Number Two mine the vein ran up at a slope of +perhaps five degrees; in part 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 involved much work for the “spraggers,” or boys who +did the braking; it sometimes meant run-away cars, and fresh perils +added to the everyday perils of coal-mining. + +The vein varied from four to five feet in thickness; a cruelty of nature +which made it necessary that the men at the “working face”--the place +where new coal was being cut--should learn to shorten their stature. +After Hal had squatted for a while and watched them at their tasks, he +understood why they walked with head and shoulders bent over and arms +hanging down, so that, seeing them coming out of the shaft in the +gloaming, one thought of a file of baboons. The method of getting out +the coal was to “undercut” it with a pick, and then blow it loose with a +charge of powder. This meant that the miner had to lie on his side while +working, and accounted for other physical peculiarities. + +Thus, as always, when one understood the lives of men, one came to pity +instead 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 down +with their freight of soft-coal; coal which would go to the ends of the +earth, to places the miner never heard of, turning the wheels of +industry whose products the miner would never see. It would make +precious silks for fine ladies, it would cut precious jewels for their +adornment; it would carry long trains of softly upholstered cars across +deserts and over mountains; it would drive palatial steamships out of +wintry tempests into gleaming tropic seas. And the fine ladies in their +precious silks and jewels would eat and sleep and laugh and lie at +ease--and would know no more of the stunted creatures of the dark than +the stunted creatures knew of them. Hal reflected upon this, and subdued +his Anglo-Saxon pride, finding forgiveness for what was repulsive in +these people--their barbarous, jabbering speech, their vermin-ridden +homes, their bare-bottomed babies. + + + +SECTION 7. + +It chanced before many days that Hal got a holiday, relieving the +monotony of his labours as stableman: an accidental holiday, not +provided for in his bargain with the pit-boss. Something went wrong with +the ventilating-course in Number Two, and he began to notice a headache, +and heard the men grumbling that their lamps were burning low. Then, as +matters began to get serious, orders came to get the mules to the +surface. + +Which meant an amusing adventure. The delight of Hal’s pets at seeing +the sunlight was irresistibly comic. They could not be kept from lying +down and rolling on their backs in the cinder-strewn street; and when +they were corralled in a distant part of the camp where actual grass +grew, they abandoned themselves to rapture like a horde of school +children at a picnic. + +So Hal had a few free hours; and being still young and not cured of idle +curiosities, he climbed the canyon wall to see the mountains. As he was +sliding down again, toward evening, a vivid spot of colour was painted +into 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 family +wash. It was a splendid figure of a lass, tall and vigorous, with the +sort of hair that in polite circles is called auburn, and that flaming +colour in the cheeks which is Nature’s recompense to people who live +where it rains all the time. She was the first beautiful sight Hal had +seen since he had come up the canyon, and it was only natural that he +should 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 a +pleasing sight--that the mountain air had given colour to his cheeks and +a shine to his gay brown eyes, while the mountain winds had blown his +wavy brown hair. + +“Hello,” said she, at last, in a warm voice, unmistakably Irish. + +“Hello yourself,” said Hal, in the accepted dialect; then he added, with +more 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 clothes +over 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 my +hair since before I could talk.” + +“’Tis envy,” said Hal, dropping into her way of speech; and he came a +few steps nearer, so that he could inspect the hair more closely. It lay +above her brow in undulations which were agreeable to the decorative +instinct, and a tight heavy braid of it fell over her shoulders and +swung to her waist-line. He observed the shoulders, which were sturdy, +obviously accustomed to hard labour; not conforming to accepted romantic +standards of femininity, yet having an athletic grace of their own. They +were covered with a faded blue calico dress, unfortunately not entirely +clean; also, the young man noticed, there was a rent in one shoulder +through which a patch of skin was visible. The girl’s eyes, which had +been following his, became defiant; she tossed a piece of her washing +over 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 her +grey eyes to the bare mountainside, down which he had come sliding in a +shower 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 belongs +to 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 entire +forgetfulness, 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 look +puzzled. + +“Aren’t you American?” she inquired; and he laughed. To speak a foreign +language 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 you +live on greasy beans?” + +“Sure,” laughed the girl, “the good old pertaties is good enough for +me.” + +“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 she +turned 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 the +sun shone, and there was a wild rose. Only one! I thought to myself, ‘So +roses grow, even in the loneliest parts of the world!’” + +“Sure, ’tis a poetry-book again!” she cried. “Why didn’t ye bring the +rose?” + +“There is a poetry-book that tells us to ‘leave the wild-rose on its +stalk.’ It will go on blooming there; but if one were to pluck it, it +would 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 blow +it to pieces. Perhaps if ye’d pulled it and been happy, ’twould ’a been +what the rose was for.” + +Whatever of unconscious patronage there had been in the poet’s attitude +was lost now in the eternal mystery. Whether the girl knew it--or +cared--she had won the woman’s first victory. She had caught the man’s +mind and pinned it with curiosity. What did this wild rose of the mining +camps mean? + +The wild rose, apparently unconscious that she had said anything +epoch-making, was busy with the wash; and meantime Hal Warner studied +her features and pondered her words. From a lady of sophistication they +would have meant only one thing, an invitation; but in this girl’s clear +grey eyes was nothing of wantonness, only pain. But what was this pain +in the face and words of one so young, so eager and alive? Was it the +melancholy of her race, the thing one got in old folk-songs? Or was it a +new and special kind of melancholy, engendered in mining-camps in the +far West of America? + +The girl’s countenance was as intriguing as her words. Her grey eyes +were 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 her +face. These features gave her, when she stared at you, an aspect vivid +and startling, bold, with a touch of defiance. But when she smiled, the +red lips would curve into gentler lines, and the grey eyes would become +wistful, 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 Mary +Burke. “Ye’ve not been here long, I take it,” she said, “or ye’d have +heard of ‘Red Mary.’ ’Tis along of this hair.” + +“I’ve not been here long,” he answered, “but I shall hope to stay +now--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 an +unpainted, three room cabin, more dilapidated than the average, with +bare dirt and cinders about it, and what had once been a picket-fence, +now falling apart and being used for stove-wood. The windows were +cracked and broken, and upon the roof were signs of leaks that had been +crudely patched. + +“May I come?” he made haste to ask again--so that he would not seem to +look too critically at her home. + +“Perhaps ye may,” said the girl, as she picked up the clothes basket. He +stepped forward, offering to carry it, but she did not give it up. +Holding it tight, and looking him defiantly in the face, she said, “Ye +may come, but ye’ll not find it a happy place to visit, Mr. Smith. Ye’ll +hear 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 head +up. 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 of +this question, which was merely polite. It was as if a storm cloud had +swept over the girl’s face. “I hate it! ’Tis a place of fear and +devils!” + +He hesitated a moment; then, “Will you tell me what you mean by that +when I come?” + +But “Red Mary” was winsome again. “When ye come, Mr. Smith, I’ll not be +entertaining ye with troubles. I’ll put on me company manner, and we’ll +go out for a nice walk, if ye please.” + +All the way as he walked back to Reminitsky’s to supper, Hal thought +about this girl; not merely her pleasantness to the eye, so unexpected +in this place of desolation, but her personality, which baffled him--the +pain that seemed always just beneath the surface of her thoughts, the +fierce 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 to +know more about this miracle of Nature--this wild rose blooming on a +bare mountain-side! + + + +SECTION 9. + +There was one of Mary Burke’s remarks upon which Hal soon got light--her +statement that North Valley was a place of fear. He listened to the +tales of these underworld men, until it came so that he shuddered with +dread 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 had +charge of the long trains of cars, called “trips,” which were hauled +through the main passage-ways; the name “rope-rider” came from the fact +that he sat on the heavy iron ring to which the rope was attached. He +invited Hal to a seat with him, and Hal accepted, at peril of his job as +well as of his limbs. Cho had picked up what he fondly thought was +English, and now and then one could understand a word. He pointed upon +the ground, and shouted above the rattle of the cars: “Big dust!” Hal +saw that the ground was covered with six inches of coal-dust, while on +the 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 off +into 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 its +dryness; he learned now that the quality which meant life to invalids +from every part of the world meant death to those who toiled to keep the +invalids warm. Driven through the mines by great fans, this air took out +every particle of moisture, and left coal dust so thick and dry that +there were fatal explosions from the mere friction of loading-shovels. +So it happened that these mines were killing several times as many men +as other mines throughout the country. + +Was there no remedy for this, Hal asked, talking with one of his +mule-drivers, Tim Rafferty, the evening after his ride with Cho. There +was a remedy, said Tim--the law required sprinkling the mines with +“adobe-dust”; and once in Tim’s life, he remembered this law’s being +obeyed. There had come some “big fellows” inspecting things, and +previous to their visit there had been an elaborate campaign of +sprinkling. But that had been several years ago, and now the apparatus +was stored away, nobody knew where, and one heard nothing about +sprinkling. + +It was the same with precautions against gas. The North Valley mines +were especially “gassy,” it appeared. In these old rambling passages one +smelt a stink as of all the rotten eggs in all the barn-yards of the +world; and this sulphuretted hydrogen was the least dangerous of the +gases against which a miner had to contend. There was the dreaded +“choke-damp,” which was odourless, and heavier than air. Striking into +soft, greasy coal, one would open a pocket of this gas, a deposit laid +up for countless ages, awaiting its predestined victim. A man might sink +to sleep as he lay at work, and if his “buddy,” or helper, happened to +be out of sight, and to delay a minute too long, it would be all over +with the man. And there was the still more dreaded “fire-damp,” which +might wreck a whole mine, and kill scores and even hundreds of men. + +Against these dangers there was a “fire-boss,” whose duty was to go +through the mine, testing for gas, and making sure that the +ventilating-course was in order, and the fans working properly. The +“fire-boss” was supposed to make his rounds in the early morning, and +the law specified that no one should go to work till he had certified +that all was safe. But what if the “fire-boss” overslept himself, or +happened to be drunk? It was too much to expect thousands of dollars to +be lost for such a reason. So sometimes one saw men ordered to their +work, and sent down grumbling and cursing. Before many hours some of +them would be prostrated with headache, and begging to be taken out; and +perhaps the superintendent would not let them out, because if a few +came, the rest would get scared and want to come also. + +Once, only last year, there had been an accident of that sort. A young +mule-driver, a Croatian, told Hal about it while they sat munching the +contents of their dinner-pails. The first cage-load of men had gone down +into the mine, sullenly protesting; and soon afterwards some one had +taken down a naked light, and there had been an explosion which had +sounded like the blowing up of the inside of the world. Eight men had +been killed, the force of the explosion being so great that some of the +bodies had been wedged between the shaft wall and the cage, and it had +been necessary to cut them to pieces to get them out. It was them Japs +that were to blame, vowed Hal’s informant. They hadn’t ought to turn +them loose in coal mines, for the devil himself couldn’t keep a Jap from +sneaking off to get a smoke. + +So Hal understood how North Valley was a place of fear. What tales the +old chambers of these mines could have told, if they had had voices! Hal +watched the throngs pouring in to their labours, and reflected that +according to the statisticians of the government eight or nine of every +thousand of them were destined to die violent deaths before a year was +out, and some thirty more would be badly injured. And they knew this, +they knew it better than all the statisticians of the government; yet +they 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 had +to do the “dirty work” of providing it? Did they have a vision of a +future, great and wonderful, which was to grow out of their ill-requited +toil? Or were they simply fools or cowards, submitting blindly, because +they had not the wit nor the will to do otherwise? Curiosity held him, +he wanted to understand the inner souls of these silent and patient +armies which through the ages have surrendered their lives to other +men’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 individual +temperaments and problems, exactly like people in the world of the +sunlight. Mary Burke and Tim Rafferty, Cho the Korean and Madvik the +Croatian--one by one these individualities etched themselves into the +foreground of Hal’s picture, making it a thing of life, moving him to +sympathy and fellowship. Some of these people, to be sure, were stunted +and 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, and +the spark of rebellion. + +There was “Andy,” a boy of Greek parentage; Androkulos was his right +name--but it was too much to expect any one to get that straight in a +coal-camp. Hal noticed him at the store, and was struck by his beautiful +features, and the mournful look in his big black eyes. They got to +talking, and Andy made the discovery that Hal had not spent all his time +in coal-camps, but had seen the great world. It was pitiful, the +excitement that came into his voice; he was yearning for life, with its +joys and adventures--and it was his destiny to sit ten hours a day by +the side of a chute, with the rattle of coal in his ears and the dust of +coal in his nostrils, picking out slate with his fingers. He was one of +many 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 been +one of those men whose bodies had had to be cut to pieces to get them +out of the shaft. Now the son was chained to the father’s place, until +his 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 run +away from his family and try his luck in the world outside. Hal, +striving to remember where he had seen olive-skinned Greeks with big +black eyes in this beautiful land of the free, could hold out no better +prospect than a shoe-shining parlour, or the wiping out of wash-bowls in +a hotel-lavatory, handing over the tips to a fat padrone. + +Andy had been to school, and had learned to read English, and the +teacher had loaned him books and magazines with wonderful pictures in +them; now he wanted more than pictures, he wanted the things which they +portrayed. So Hal came face to face with one of the difficulties of +mine-operators. They gathered a population of humble serfs, selected +from twenty or thirty races of hereditary bondsmen; but owing to the +absurd American custom of having public-schools, the children of this +population learned to speak English, and even to read it. So they became +too good for their lot in life; and then a wandering agitator would get +in, and all of a sudden there would be hell. Therefore in every +coal-camp had to be another kind of “fire-boss,” whose duty it was to +guard against another kind of explosions--not of carbon monoxide, but of +the human soul. + +The immediate duties of this office in North Valley devolved upon Jeff +Cotton, the camp-marshal. He was not at all what one would have expected +from a person of his trade--lean and rather distinguished-looking, a man +who in evening clothes might have passed for a diplomat. But his mouth +would become ugly when he was displeased, and he carried a gun with six +notches upon it; also he wore a deputy-sheriff’s badge, to give him +immunity for other notches he might wish to add. When Jeff Cotton came +near, any man who was explosive went off to be explosive by himself. So +there was “order” in North Valley, and it was only on Saturday and +Sunday nights, when the drunks had to be suppressed, or on Monday +mornings when they had to be haled forth and kicked to their work, that +one 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 were +not supposed to be known. Coming up in the cage one evening, Hal made +some remark to the Croatian mule-driver, Madvik, about the high price of +company-store merchandise, and was surprised to get a sharp kick on the +ankle. Afterwards, as they were on their way to supper, Madvik gave him +the 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 idea +of detectives from Sherlock Holmes. + +“No take much sense. Go pit-boss, say, ‘Joe feller talk too much. Say +store 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-boss +come to you: ‘You shoot your mouth off too much, feller. Git the hell +out of here!’ See?” + +Hal saw. + +“So you go down canyon. Then maybe you go ’nother mine. Boss say, ‘Where +you 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 do +anything bad, like talk union”--Madvik had dropped his voice and +whispered the word “union”--“they send your picture--don’t get job +nowhere 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 these +silent and patient armies at their tasks. On a Sunday morning he was +strolling with his mule-driver friend Tim Rafferty, a kindly lad with a +pair of dreamy blue eyes in his coal-smutted face. They came to Tim’s +home, and he invited Hal to come in and meet his family. The father was +a bowed and toil-worn man, but with tremendous strength in his solid +frame, the product of many generations of labour in coal-mines. He was +known 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 faded +leather album with pictures of his ancestors in the “oul’ country”--men +with sad, deeply lined faces, sitting very stiff and solemn to have +their 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; he +sat on the family door-step, amid a crowd of little Rafferties with +newly-washed Sunday faces, and fascinated them with tales of adventures +cribbed from Clark Russell and Captain Mayne Reid. As a reward he was +invited to stay for dinner, and had a clean knife and fork, and a clean +plate of steaming hot potatoes, with two slices of salt pork on the +side. It was so wonderful that he forthwith inquired if he might forsake +his company boarding-house and come and board with them. + +Mrs. Rafferty opened wide her eyes. “Sure,” exclaimed she, “do you think +you’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 us +after 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 to +fall. But you started at Reminitsky’s, and ’t would not be healthy for +them that took ye away.” + +“I see,” laughed Hal. “There seem to be a lot of unhealthy things +hereabouts.” + +“Sure there be! They sent down Nick Ammons because his wife bought milk +down the canyon. They had a sick baby, and it’s not much you get in this +thin stuff at the store. They put chalk in it, I think; any way, you can +see 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, who +had 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 this +country. Me and me old man spent weary years a-huntin’.” + +Thus far the conversation had proceeded naturally; but suddenly it was +as if a shadow passed over it--a shadow of fear. Hal saw Old Rafferty +look at his wife, and frown and make signs to her. After all, what did +they know about this handsome young stranger, who talked so glibly, and +had 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 of +them come in, ’twould be no end to it, I suppose. We find they treat us +here as well as anywhere.” + +“’Tis no joke, the life of workin’ men, wherever ye try it,” added the +other; and when young Tim started to express an opinion, they shut him +up with such evident anxiety that Hal’s heart ached for them, and he +made haste to change the subject. + + + +SECTION 12. + +On the evening of the same Sunday Hal went to pay his promised call upon +Mary Burke. She opened the front door of the cabin to let him in, and +even by the dim rays of the little kerosene lamp, there came to him an +impression of cheerfulness. “Hello,” she said--just as she had said it +when he had slid down the mountain into the family wash. He followed her +into the room, and saw that the impression he had got of cheerfulness +came from Mary herself. How bright and fresh she looked! The old blue +calico, which had not been entirely clean, was newly laundered now, and +on the shoulder where the rent had been was a neat patch of unfaded +blue. + +There being only three rooms in Mary’s home, two of these necessarily +bed-rooms, she entertained her company in the kitchen. The room was +bare, 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 for +company, was that of cleanness. The board floor had been newly sanded +and scrubbed; the kitchen table also had been scrubbed, and the kettle +on the stove, and the cracked tea-pot and bowls on the shelf. Mary’s +little brother and sister were in the room: Jennie, a dark-eyed, +dark-haired little girl, frail, with a sad, rather frightened face; and +Tommie, a round headed youngster, like a thousand other round headed and +freckle-faced boys. Both of them were now sitting very straight in their +chairs, staring at the visitor with a certain resentment, he thought. He +suspected that they had been included in the general scrubbing. Inasmuch +as it had been uncertain just when the visitor would come, they must +have been required to do this every night, and he could imagine family +disturbances, with arguments possibly not altogether complimentary to +Mary’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; and +after Hal had ventured a couple of friendly remarks to the children, she +said, 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 broken +mirror on the shelf, he smiled at the children and quoted two lines from +his 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 a +tin-can ye see it shinin’ here!” + +They went out. In the soft summer night it was pleasant to stroll under +the moon--especially when they had come to the remoter parts of the +village, where there were not so many weary people on door-steps and +children playing noisily. There were other young couples walking here, +under the same moon; the hardest day’s toil could not so sap their +energies that they did not feel the spell of this soft summer night. + +Hal, being tired, was content to stroll and enjoy the stillness; but +Mary Burke sought information about the mysterious young man she was +with. “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 anything +around here. I don’t know how to say it, but ye make me think more of +the poetry-books.” + +Flattered as Hal was by this naïve confession, he did not want to talk +of 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 have +thought, 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 American +institution, the public-school; she had learned to read, and the pretty +young teacher had helped her, lending her books and magazines. Thus she +had been given a key to a treasure-house, a magic carpet on which to +travel over the world. These similes Mary herself used--for the Arabian +Nights had been one of the books that were loaned to her. On rainy days +she would hide behind the sofa, reading at a spot where the light crept +in--so that she might be safe from small brothers and sisters! + +Joe Smith had read these same books, it appeared; and this seemed +remarkable to Mary, for books cost money and were hard to get. She +explained how she had searched the camp for new magic carpets, finding a +“poetry-book” by Longfellow, and a book of American history, and a story +called “David Copperfield,” and last and strangest of all, another story +called “Pride and Prejudice.” A curious freak of fortune--the prim and +sentimentally quivering Jane Austen in a coal-camp in a far Western +wilderness! An adventure for Jane, as well as for Mary! + +What had Mary made of it, Hal wondered. Had she revelled, shop-girl +fashion, in scenes of pallid ease? He learned that what she had made of +it was despair. This world outside, with its freedom and cleanness, its +people living gracious and worth-while lives, was not for her; she was +chained to a scrub-pail in a coal-camp. Things had got so much worse +since the death of her mother, she said. Her voice had become dull and +hard--Hal thought that he had never heard a young voice express such +hopelessness. + +“You’ve never been anywhere but here?” he asked. + +“I been in two other camps,” she said--“first the Gordon, and then East +Run. 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 a +church I heard a lady sing.” + +She stopped for a moment, lost in this memory. Then suddenly her voice +changed--and he could imagine in the darkness that she had tossed her +head defiantly. “I’ll not be entertainin’ company with my troubles! Ye +know how tiresome that is when ye hear it from somebody else--like my +next-door neighbour, Mrs. Zamboni. D’ ye know her?” + +“No,” said Hal. + +“The poor old lady has troubles enough, God knows. Her man’s not much +good--he’s troubled with the drink; and she’s got eleven childer, and +that’s too many for one woman. Don’t ye think so?” + +She asked this with a naïveté which made Hal laugh. “Yes,” he said, “I +do.” + +“Well, I think people’d help her more if she’d not complain so! And half +of it in the Slavish language, that a body can’t understand!” So Mary +began to tell funny things about Mrs. Zamboni and her other polyglot +neighbours, imitating their murdering of the Irish dialect. Hal thought +her humour was naïve and delightful, and he led her on to more cheerful +gossip 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 by +the arm, she drew him into the shadows at the side, whispering to him to +be silent. The bent figure of a man went past them, lurching from side +to 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 breathing +in the darkness. + +So that was Mary’s trouble--the difficulty in her home life to which she +had referred at their first meeting! Hal understood many things in a +flash--why her home was bare of ornament, and why she did not invite her +company to sit down. He stood silent, not knowing what to say. Before he +could find the word, Mary burst out, “Oh, how I hate O’Callahan, that +sells the stuff to my father! His home with plenty to eat in it, and his +wife 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’d +like 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 do +more than that, to change things here. Ye got to get after them that +make money out of O’Callahan.” + +So Mary’s mind was groping for causes! Hal had thought her excitement +was due to humiliation, or to fear of a scene of violence when she +reached home; but she was thinking of the deeper aspects of this +terrible drink problem. There was still enough unconscious snobbery in +Hal Warner for him to be surprised at this phenomenon in a common +miner’s daughter; and so, as at their first meeting, his pity was turned +to intellectual interest. + +“They’ll stop the drink business altogether some day,” he said. He had +not 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 to +be too late. ’Tis a sight to make your heart sick to see the young lads +comin’ home staggerin’, too drunk even to fight.” + +Hal had not had time to see much of this aspect of North Valley. “They +sell 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’ your +bones whole--and if you can stand breakin’ ’em, the company can stand +it.” + +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 ye +me company manner! But things keep happening to set me off.” And she +turned abruptly and ran into the house. Hal stood for a moment wondering +if she would return; then, deciding that she had meant that as good +night, he went slowly up the street. + +He fought against a mood of real depression, the first he had known +since his coming to North Valley. He had managed so far to keep a +certain degree of aloofness, that he might see this industrial world +without prejudice. But to-night his pity for Mary had involved him more +deeply. To be sure, he might be able to help her, to find her work in +some less crushing environment; but his mind went on to the +question--how many girls might there be in mining-camps, young and +eager, hungering for life, but crushed by poverty, and by the burden of +the drink problem? + +A man walked past Hal, greeting him in the semi-darkness with a nod and +a motion of the hand. It was the Reverend Spragg, the gentleman who was +officially commissioned to combat the demon rum in North Valley. + +Hal had been to the little white church the Sunday before, and heard the +Reverend Spragg preach a doctrinal sermon, in which the blood of the +lamb was liberally sprinkled, and the congregation heard where and how +they were to receive compensation for the distresses they endured in +this vale of tears. + +What a mockery it seemed! Once, indubitably, people had believed such +doctrines; they had been willing to go to the stake for them. But now +nobody went to the stake for them--on the contrary, the company +compelled every worker to contribute out of his scanty earnings towards +the preaching of them. How could the most ignorant of zealots confront +such an arrangement without suspicion of his own piety? Somewhere at the +head of the great dividend-paying machine that was called the General +Fuel Company must be some devilish intelligence that had worked it all +out, that had given the orders to its ecclesiastical staff: “We want the +present--we leave you the future! We want the bodies--we leave you the +souls! Teach them what you will about heaven--so long as you let us +plunder them on earth!” + +In accordance with this devil’s program, the Reverend Spragg might +denounce the demon rum, but he said nothing about dividends based on the +renting of rum-shops, nor about local politicians maintained by company +contributions, plus the profits of wholesale liquor. He said nothing +about the conclusions of modern hygiene, concerning over-work as a cause +of the craving for alcohol; the phrase “industrial drinking,” it seemed, +was not known in General Fuel Company theology! In fact, when you +listened to such a sermon, you would never have guessed that the hearers +of it had physical bodies at all; certainly you would never have guessed +that the preacher had a body, which was nourished by food produced by +the overworked and under-nourished wage-slaves whom he taught! + + + +SECTION 14. + +For the most part the victims of this system were cowed and spoke of +their wrongs only in whispers; but there was one place in the camp, Hal +found, where they could not keep silence, where their sense of outrage +battled with their fear. This place was the solar plexus of the +mine-organism, the centre of its nervous energies; to change the simile, +it was the judgment-seat, where the miner had sentence passed upon +him--sentence either to plenty, or to starvation and despair. + +This place was the “tipple,” where the coal that came out of the mine +was weighed and recorded. Every digger, as he came from the cage, made +for this spot. There was a bulletin-board, and on it his number, and the +record of the weights of the cars he had sent out that day. And every +man, no matter how ignorant, had learned enough English to read those +figures. + +Hal had gradually come to realise that here was the place of drama. Most +of the men would look, and then, without a sound or glance about, would +slouch off with drooping shoulders. Others would mumble to +themselves--or, what amounted to the same thing, would mumble to one +another in barbarous dialects. But about one in five could speak +English; and scarcely an evening passed that some man did not break +loose, shaking his fist at the sky, or at the weigh-boss--behind the +latter’s back. He might gather a knot of fellow-grumblers about him; it +was to be noted that the camp-marshal had the habit of being on hand at +this hour. + +It was on one of these occasions that Hal first noticed Mike Sikoria, a +grizzle-haired old Slovak, who had spent twenty years in the mines of +these regions. All the bitterness of all the wrongs of all these years +welled up in Old Mike, as he shouted his score aloud: “Nineteen, +twenty-two, twenty-four, twenty! Is that my weight, Mister? You want me +to 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 cars +is big! You measure them cars, Mister--seven feet long, three and a half +feet 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 suddenly +plaintive, as if more hurt than angered by such an insinuation. “You +know all the years I work, and you tell me I don’t know a load? When I +load a car, I load him like a miner, I don’t load him like a Jap, that +don’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 was +illustrating what he meant. “See there! There’s a ton on the top, and a +ton 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. I +used to get forty-five, forty-six on them cars. Here’s my buddy--ask him +if it ain’t so. What is it, Bo?” + +“Um m m-mum,” said Bo, who was a negro--though one could hardly be sure +of this for the coal-dust on him. + +“I can’t make a living no more!” exclaimed the old Slovak, his voice +trembling and his wizened dark eyes full of pleading. “What you think I +make? 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. I +dig the coal and I ain’t got no weight, I ain’t got nothing! Your scale +is wrong!” + +“Get out!” said the weigh-boss, turning away. + +“But, Mister!” cried Old Mike, following behind him, and pouring his +whole soul into his words. “What is this life, Mister? You work like a +burro, and you don’t get nothing for it! You burn your own powder--half +a dollar a day powder--what you think of that? Crosscut--and you get +nothing! Take the skip and a pillar, and you get nothing! Brush--and you +get nothing! Here, by Judas, a poor man, going and working his body to +the last point, and blood is run out! You starve me to death, I say! I +have got to have something to eat, haven’t I?” + +And suddenly the boss whirled upon him. “Get the hell out of here!” he +shouted. “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, biting +his whiskered lips nervously; then his shoulders sank together, and he +turned and slunk off, followed by his negro helper. + + + +SECTION 15. + +Old Mike boarded at Reminitsky’s, and after supper was over, Hal sought +him out. He was easy to know, and proved an interesting acquaintance. +With the help of his eloquence Hal wandered through a score of camps in +the district. The old fellow had a temper that he could not manage, and +so he was always on the move; but all places were alike, he said--there +was always some trick by which a miner was cheated of his earnings. A +miner was a little business man, a contractor who took a certain job, +with its expenses and its chance of profit or loss. A “place” was +assigned to him by the boss--and he undertook to get out the coal from +it, being paid at the rate of fifty-five cents a ton for each ton of +clean coal. In some “places” a man could earn good money, and in others +he would work for weeks, and not be able to keep up with his +store-account. + +It all depended upon the amount of rock and slate that was found with +the coal. If the vein was low, the man had one or two feet of rock to +take off the ceiling, and this had to be loaded on separate cars and +taken away. This work was called “brushing,” and for it the miner +received no pay. Or perhaps it was necessary to cut through a new +passage, and clean out the rock; or perhaps to “grade the bottom,” and +lay 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 was +rock instead of coal--and this rock must be hewed away before the miner +could get at the coal. All such work was called “dead-work,” and it was +the cause of unceasing war. In the old days the company had paid extra +for it; now, since they had got the upper hand of the men, they were +refusing 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 and +old and ugly, and could not speak English good? inquired old Mike, with +bitterness. The boss stole his cars and gave them to other people; he +took the weight off the cars, and gave them to fellows who boarded with +him, or treated him to drinks, or otherwise curried favour with him. + +“I work five days in the Southeastern,” said Mike, “and when I work them +five 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! And +the Mr. Bishop--that is the superintendent--I says, ‘Do you pay +something for that rock?’ ‘Huh?’ says he. ‘Well,’ I says, ‘if you don’t +pay nothing for the rock, I don’t go ahead with it. I ain’t got no place +to put that rock.’ ‘Get the hell out of here,’ says he, and when I +started to fight he pull gun on me. And then I go to Cedar Mountain, and +the super give me work there, and he says, ‘You go Number Four,’ and he +says, ‘Rail is in Number Three, and the ties.’ And he says, ‘I pay you +for it when you put it in.’ So I take it away and I put it in, and I +work 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 them +old 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, ‘you +promise 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 is +all 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 the +mercy of others; this was the matter of stealing cars. Each miner had +brass 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 long +journey to the tipple, some one would change the check, and the car was +gone. In some mines, the number was put on the car with chalk; and how +easy it was for some one to rub it out and change it! It appeared to Hal +that it would have been a simple matter to put a number padlock on the +car, instead of a check; but such an equipment would have cost the +company one or two hundred dollars, he was told, and so the stealing +went on year after year. + +“You think it’s the bosses steal these cars?” asked Hal. + +“Sometimes bosses, sometimes bosses’ friend--sometimes company himself +steal them from miners.” In North Valley it was the company, the old +Slovak insisted. It was no use sending up more than six cars in one day, +he declared; you could never get credit for more than six. Nor was it +worth while loading more than a ton on a car; they did not really weigh +the cars, the boss just ran them quickly over the scales, and had orders +not to go above a certain average. Mike told of an Italian who had +loaded a car for a test, so high that he could barely pass it under the +roof 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 him +arrested, but when he had come out of the mine, the man was gone, and +nobody ever saw him again. After that they put a door onto the +weigh-room, so that no one could see the scales. + +The more Hal listened to the men and reflected upon these things, the +more he came to see that the miner was a contractor who had no +opportunity 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 which +he had no control. He used powder, and would find himself docked at the +end 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 a +dollar or two deducted from his account each month, even though he had +not 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 man +undertake to build a dam, for example, with no chance to measure the +ground in advance, nor any way of determining how many cubic yards of +concrete he had to put in? Would a grocer sell to a customer who +proposed to come into the store and do his own weighing--and meantime +locking the grocer outside? Merely to put such questions was to show the +preposterousness of the thing; yet in this district were fifteen +thousand men working on precisely such terms. + +Under the state law, the miner had a right to demand a check-weighman to +protect his interest at the scales, paying this check-weighman’s wages +out of his own earnings. Whenever there was any public criticism about +conditions in the coal-mines, this law would be triumphantly cited by +the operators; and one had to have actual experience in order to realise +what a bitter mockery this was to the miner. + +In the dining-room Hal sat next to a fair-haired Swedish giant named +Johannson, who loaded timbers ten hours a day. This fellow was one who +indulged in the luxury of speaking his mind, because he had youth and +huge muscles, and no family to tie him down. He was what is called a +“blanket-stiff,” wandering from mine to harvest-field and from +harvest-field to lumber-camp. Some one broached the subject of +check-weighmen to him, and the whole table heard his scornful laugh. Let +any 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 against +accidents. You might demand your legal rights, but if you did, it was a +matter of the boss’s temper. He might make your life one damn misery +till you went of your own accord. Or you might get a string of curses +and an order, “Down the canyon!”--and likely as not the toe of a boot in +your trouser-seat, or the muzzle of a revolver under your nose. + + + +SECTION 17. + +Such conditions made the coal-district a place of despair. Yet there +were men who managed to get along somehow, and to raise families and +keep decent homes. If one had the luck to escape accident, if he did not +marry too young, or did not have too many children; if he could manage +to escape the temptations of liquor, to which overwork and monotony +drove so many; if, above all, he could keep on the right side of his +boss--why then he might have a home, and even a little money on deposit +with the company. + +Such a one was Jerry Minetti, who became one of Hal’s best friends. He +was 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 is +unusual with the Italians, was of good stature. Their meeting took +place--as did most of Hal’s social experiences--on a Sunday. Jerry had +just 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 with +his head up and his shoulders square, and one could see that he had few +cares in the world. + +But what caught Hal’s attention was not so much Jerry as what followed +at Jerry’s heels; a perfect reproduction of him, quarter-size, also with +a newly-washed face and a pair of new blue overalls. He too had his head +up, and his shoulders square, and he was an irresistible object, +throwing out his heels and trying his best to keep step. Since the +longest strides he could take left him behind, he would break into a +run, and getting close under his father’s heels, would begin keeping +step once more. + +Hal was going in the same direction, and it affected him like the music +of a military band; he too wanted to throw his head up and square his +shoulders and keep step. And then other people, seeing the grin on his +face, 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 same +procession, only now the man had a sack of something on his shoulder, +while the little chap had a smaller load poised in imitation. So Hal +grinned again, and when they were opposite him, he said, “Hello.” + +“Hello,” said Jerry, and stopped. Then, seeing Hal’s grin, he grinned +back; and Hal looked at the little chap and grinned, and the little chap +grinned back. Jerry, seeing what Hal was grinning at, grinned more than +ever; so there stood all three in the middle of the road, grinning at +one 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 one +desired 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 had +been 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 him +onto his shoulder. “Come on, we’ll ride!” + +So Big Jerry took up his sack again, and they started off; only this +time it was Hal who fell behind and kept step, squaring his shoulders +and flinging out his heels. Little Jerry caught onto the joke, and +giggled and kicked his sturdy legs with delight. Big Jerry would look +round, 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 old +enough to have even one baby. They had another bout of grinning, at the +end 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 their +feelings. “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 with +its pretty occupant. There were lace curtains in the windows, even +shinier and whiter than at the Rafferties; there was an incredibly +bright-coloured rug on the floor, and bright coloured pictures of Mount +Vesuvius and of Garibaldi on the walls. Also there was a cabinet with +many 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 a +glass cover over him. A while back Hal would not have thought of such +things as especially stimulating to the imagination; but that was before +he had begun to spend five-sixths of his waking hours in the bowels of +the earth. + +He ate supper, a real Dago supper; the spaghetti proved to be real Dago +spaghetti, smoking hot, with tomato sauce and a rich flavour of +meat-juice. And all through the meal Hal smacked his lips and grinned at +Little Jerry, who smacked his lips and grinned back. It was all so +different from feeding at Reminitsky’s pig-trough, that Hal thought he +had 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 in +English as good as a real American, that they were in the seventh +heaven. + +When the meal was over, Hal leaned back and exclaimed, just as he had at +the 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 my +cousin. You know Carmino?” + +“No,” said Hal. + +“Pit-boss in Number One. He stand by me. Old Reminitsky go hang! You +come here, I give you bunk in that room, give you good grub. What you +pay Reminitsky?” + +“Twenty-seven a month.” + +“All right, you pay me twenty-seven, you get everything good. Can’t get +much 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 off +the charges of powder which the miners had got ready by day. This was +dangerous work, calling for a skilled man, and it paid pretty well; so +Jerry got on in the world and was not afraid to speak his mind, within +certain limits. He ignored the possibility that Hal might be a company +spy, and astonished him by rebellious talk of the different kinds of +graft in North Valley, and at other places he had worked since coming to +America as a boy. Minetti was a Socialist, Hal learned; he took an +Italian Socialist paper, and the clerk at the post-office knew what sort +of paper it was, and would “josh” him about it. What was more +remarkable, Mrs. Minetti was a Socialist also; that meant a great deal +to a man, as Jerry explained, because she was not under the domination +of a priest. + + + +SECTION 18. + +Hal made the move at once, sacrificing part of a month’s board, which +Reminitsky would charge against his account with the company. But he was +willing to pay for the privilege of a clean home and clean food. To his +amusement he found that in the eyes of his Irish friends he was losing +caste by going to live with the Minettis. There were most rigid social +lines in North Valley, it appeared. The Americans and English and Scotch +looked down upon the Welsh and Irish; the Welsh and Irish looked down +upon the Dagoes and Frenchies; the Dagoes and Frenchies looked down upon +Polacks 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 he +made this discovery. Mary Burke happened to be there, and when she +caught 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 good +enough for me!” + +“And you remember,” said he, “what I answered?” + +Yes, she remembered! Her cheeks took on the colour of the rose-leaves he +had specified as her probable diet. + +And then the Rafferty children, who had got to know Hal well, joined in +the teasing. “Mister Minetti! Lika da spagetti!” Hal, when he had +grasped the situation, was tempted to retaliate by reminding them that +he had offered to board with the Irish, and been turned down; but he +feared that the elder Rafferty might not appreciate this joke, so +instead he pretended to have supposed all along that the Rafferties were +Italians. He addressed the elder Rafferty gravely, pronouncing the name +with the accent on the second syllable--“Signer Rafferti”; and this so +amused 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 his +suspicions, and after the youngsters had been sent away to bed, he +talked more or less frankly about his life as a coal-miner. + +“Old Rafferty” had once been on the way to high station. He had been +made tipple-boss at the San José mine, but had given up his job because +he had thought that his religion did not permit him to do what he was +ordered to do. It had been a crude proposition of keeping the men’s +score 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 to +leave 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 might +think to be honest. They have to meet each other’s prices, and when one +short-weights, the others have to. ’Tis a way of cuttin’ wages without +the men findin’ it out; and there be people that do not like to fall +behind with their profits.” Hal found himself thinking of old Peter +Harrigan, who controlled the General Fuel Company, and had made the +remark: “I am a great clamourer for dividends!” + +“The trouble with the miner,” continued Old Rafferty, “is that he has no +one to speak for him. He stands alone--” + +During this discourse, Hal had glanced at “Red Mary,” and noticed that +she sat with her arms on the table, her sturdy shoulders bowed in a +fashion which told of a hard day’s toil. But here she broke into the +conversation; her voice came suddenly, alive with scorn: “The trouble +with 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 get +together--to form a union, and stand by it!” + +There fell a sudden silence in the Rafferty home. Even Hal was +startled--for this was the first time during his stay in the camp that +he had heard the dread word “union” spoken above a whisper. + +“I know!” said Mary, her grey eyes full of defiance. “Ye’ll not have the +word spoken! But some will speak it in spite of ye!” + +“’Tis all very well,” said the old man. “When ye’re young, and a woman +too--” + +“A woman! Is it only the women that can have courage?” + +“Sure,” said he, with a wry smile, “’tis the women that have the +tongues, and that can’t he stopped from usin’ them. Even the boss must +know that.” + +“Maybe so,” replied Mary. “And maybe ’tis the women have the most to +suffer in a coal-camp; and maybe the boss knows that.” The girl’s cheeks +were red. + +“Mebbe so,” said Rafferty; and after that there was silence, while he +sat puffing his pipe. It was evident that he did not care to go on, that +he 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 asking +after Mary’s sister, who had not been well; and after they had discussed +remedies 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 Rafferty +family was restored by the sight of a bit of gallantry. + + + +SECTION 19. + +They strolled down the street, and Hal remarked, “That’s the first word +I’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 another +outside. 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 bit +crazy 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 bit +farther in silence. + +“Tell me about it, won’t you?” he said; and the kindness in his tone +made its impression. + +“’Tis not much ye know of a coal-camp, Joe Smith,” she said. “Can’t ye +imagine what it’s like--bein’ a woman in a place like this? And a woman +they think good-lookin’!” + +“Oh, so it’s that!” said he, and was silent again. “Some one’s been +troubling you?” he ventured after a while. + +“Sure! Some one’s always troublin’ us women! Always! Never a day but we +hear it. Winks and nudges--everywhere ye turn.” + +“Who is it?” + +“The bosses, the clerks--anybody that has a chance to wear a stiff +collar, and thinks he can offer money to a girl. It begins before she’s +out 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 question +asked! + +She had seen his hesitation, however. “He was a decent man once,” she +declared. “’Tis the life here, that turns a man into a coward. ’Tis +everything ye need, everywhere ye turn--ye have to ask favours from some +boss. The room ye work in, the dead work they pile on ye; or maybe ’tis +more credit ye need at the store, or maybe the doctor to come when ye’re +sick. Just now ’tis our roof that leaks--so bad we can’t find a dry +place 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 does +anything, he raises the rent. Today my father went to Mr. Cotton. He’s +supposed to look out for the health of the place, and it seems hardly +healthy 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’s +a fine girl ye got, Burke! Why don’t ye make her listen to reason?’ And +then he laughed, and told me old father he’d better learn to take a +hint. ’Twas bad for an old man to sleep in the rain--he might get +carried 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. “He +used to be a fightin’ man, in the days before O’Callahan had his way +with 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 of +its men; and not long after Number Two started up again, Hal had a +chance to note the truth of this assertion. + +A miner’s life depended upon the proper timbering of the room where he +worked. The company undertook to furnish the timbers, but when the miner +needed them, he would find none at hand, and would have to make the +mile-long trip to the surface. He would select timbers of the proper +length, and would mark them--the understanding being that they were to +be delivered to his room by some of the labourers. But then some one +else would carry them off--here was more graft and favouritism, and the +miner might lose a day or two of work, while meantime his account was +piling up at the store, and his children might have no shoes to go to +school. Sometimes he would give up waiting for timbers, and go on taking +out coal; so there would be a fall of rock--and the coroner’s jury would +bring in a verdict of “negligence,” and the coal-operators would talk +solemnly about the impossibility of teaching caution to miners. Not so +very long ago Hal had read an interview which the president of the +General Fuel Company had given to a newspaper, in which he set forth the +idea that the more experience a miner had the more dangerous it was to +employ him, because he thought he knew it all, and would not heed the +wise regulations which the company laid down for his safety! + +In Number Two mine there were some places being operated by the “room +and 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 uphold +the roof. These walls are the “pillars”; and when the end of the vein is +reached, the miner begins to work backwards, “pulling the pillars,” and +letting the roof collapse behind him. This is a dangerous task; as he +works, the man has to listen to the drumming sounds of the rock above +his head, and has to judge just when to make his escape. Sometimes he is +too anxious to save a tool; or sometimes the collapse comes without +warning. In that case the victim is seldom dug out; for it must be +admitted that a man buried under a mountain is as well buried as a +company 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 come +and 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 stretched +out on a plank, with a couple of old sacks to cover it. He noticed that +nobody stopped for a second glance. Going up from work, he asked his +friend Madvik, the mule driver, who answered, “Lit’uanian feller--got +mash.” And that was all. Nobody knew him, and nobody cared about him. + +It happened that Mike Sikoria had been working nearby, and was one of +those who helped to get the victim out. Mike’s negro “buddy” had been in +too great haste to get some of the rock out of the way, and had got his +hand crushed, and would not be able to work for a month or so. Mike told +Hal about it, in his broken English. It was a terrible thing to see a +man 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 would +bury him in the morning. The company had a piece of ground up the +canyon. + +“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 in +this part of the world, he had never heard of it; and he had worked in a +good many mines, and seen a good many men put under the ground. “Put him +in 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 learned +that the coroner did sometimes come to the camp. He would empanel a jury +consisting of Jeff Cotton, the marshal, and Predovich, the Galician Jew +who worked in the company store, and a clerk or two from the company’s +office, and a couple of Mexican labourers who had no idea what it was +all about. This jury would view the corpse, and ask a couple of men what +had happened, and then bring in a verdict: “We find that the deceased +met his death from a fall of rock caused by his own fault.” (In one case +they had added the picturesque detail: “No relatives, and damned few +friends!”) + +For this service the coroner got a fee, and the company got an official +verdict, which would be final in case some foreign consul should +threaten a damage suit. So well did they have matters in hand that +nobody in North Valley had ever got anything for death or injury; in +fact, as Hal found later, there had not been a damage suit filed against +any coal-operator in that county for twenty-three years! + +This particular, accident was of consequence to Hal, because it got him +a 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 better +than 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 him +change me for nothing!” + +“He change you to hell!” replied Mike. “You get him cross, he put us in +bad room, cost us ten dollar a week. No, sir--you give him drink, say +fine feller, make him feel good. You talk American--give him jolly!” + + + +SECTION 21. + +Hal was glad of this opportunity to get better acquainted with his +pit-boss. Alec Stone was six feet high, and built in proportion, with +arms like hams--soft with fat, yet possessed of enormous strength. He +had learned his manner of handling men on a sugar-plantation in +Louisiana--a fact which, when Hal heard it, explained much. Like a +stage-manager who does not heed the real names of his actors, but calls +them by their character-names, Stone had the habit of addressing his men +by their nationalities: “You, Polack, get that rock into the car! Hey, +Jap, bring them tools over here! Shut your mouth, now, Dago, and get to +work, 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 duty +it was to move timbers. There was a great two-handled cross-cut saw +lying on the ground, and Stone seized it and began to wave it, like a +mighty broadsword, in the face of a little Bohemian miner. “Load them +timbers, Hunkie, or I’ll carve you into bits!” And as the terrified man +shrunk back, he followed, until his victim was flat against a wall, the +weapon swinging to and fro under his nose after the fashion of “The Pit +and the Pendulum.” “Carve you into pieces, Hunkie! Carve you into +stew-meat!” When at last the boss stepped back, the little Bohemian +leaped to load the timbers. + +The curious part about it to Hal was that Stone seemed to be reasonably +good-natured about such proceedings. Hardly one time in a thousand did +he carry out his bloodthirsty threats, and like as not he would laugh +when he had finished his tirade, and the object of it would grin in +turn--but without slackening his frightened efforts. After the +broad-sword waving episode, seeing that Hal had been watching, the boss +remarked, “That’s the way you have to manage them wops.” Hal took this +remark as a tribute to his American blood, and was duly flattered. + +He sought out the boss that evening, and found him with his feet upon +the railing of his home. “Mr. Stone,” said he, “I’ve something I’d like +to 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!” But +nevertheless he slung down his feet from the railing, and knocked the +ashes 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 laid +up, 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’s +place?” + +“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 good +stableman, and I don’t want to spoil him. You stick, and by and by I’ll +give you a raise. You go into them pits, the first thing you know you’ll +get a fall of rock on your head, and the nigger’s pay won’t be no good +to you.” + +They came to the saloon and entered. Hal noted that a silence fell +within, and every one nodded and watched. It was pleasant to be seen +going out with one’s boss. + +O’Callahan, the proprietor, came forward with his best society smile and +joined them, and at Hal’s invitation they ordered whiskies. “No, you +stick to your job,” continued the pit-boss. “You stay by it, and when +you’ve learned to manage mules, I’ll make a boss out of you, and let you +manage 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 that +every one could hear. “I learned that long ago about niggers. They’d say +to me, ‘For God’s sake, don’t talk to our niggers like that. Some night +you’ll have your house set afire.’ But I said, ‘Pet a nigger, and you’ve +got a spoiled nigger.’ I’d say, ‘Nigger, don’t you give me any of your +imp, or I’ll kick the breeches off you.’ And they knew I was a +gentleman, and they stepped lively.” + +“Have another drink,” said Hal. + +The pit-boss drank, and becoming more sociable, told nigger stories. On +the sugar-plantations there was a rush season, when the rule was twenty +hours’ work a day; when some of the niggers tried to shirk it, they +would arrest them for swearing or crap-shooting, and work them as +convicts, without pay. The pit-boss told how one “buck” had been brought +before the justice of the peace, and the charge read, “being +cross-eyed”; for which offence he had been sentenced to sixty days’ hard +labour. This anecdote was enjoyed by the men in the saloon--whose +race-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 first +rate to get more pay. If you could see your way to let me have that +buddy’s job, I’d be more than glad to divide with you.” + +“Divide with me?” said Stone. “How d’ye mean?” Hal waited with some +apprehension--for if Mike had not assured him so positively, he would +have 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 if +you’d be willing to charge off ten dollars from my store-account, it +would be well worth my while.” + +They walked for a short way in silence. “Well, I’ll tell you,” said the +boss, at last; “that old Slovak is a kicker--one of these fellows that +thinks he could run the mine if he had a chance. And if you get to +listenin’ 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 for +you--I’ll shut him up. If you’d like me to, I’ll see what fellows he +talks with, and if any of them are trying to make trouble, I’ll tip you +off.” + +“Now that’s the talk,” said the boss, promptly. “You do that, and I’ll +keep my eye on you and give you a chance. Not that I’m afraid of the old +fellow--I told him last time that if I heard from him again, I’d kick +the breeches off him. But when you got half a thousand of this foreign +scum, some of them Anarchists, and some of them Bulgars and Montynegroes +that’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 the +store-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 work +of coal-mining. His imagination had been occupied with it for a long +time; but as so often happens in the life of man, the first contact with +reality killed the results of many years’ imagining. It killed all +imagining, in fact; Hal found that his entire stock of energy, both +mental and physical, was consumed in enduring torment. If any one had +told him the horror of attempting to work in a room five feet high, he +would not have believed it. It was like some of the dreadful devices of +torture 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 and +down it; every separate joint and muscle cried aloud. It seemed as if he +could never learn the lesson of the jagged ceiling above his head--he +bumped it and continued to bump it, until his scalp was a mass of cuts +and bruises, and his head ached till he was nearly blind, and he would +have to throw himself flat on the ground. + +Then old Mike Sikoria would grin. “I know. Like green mule! Some day get +tough!” + +Hal recalled the great thick callouses on the flanks of his former +charges, where the harness rubbed against them. “Yes, I’m a ‘green +mule,’ all right!” + +It was amazing how many ways there were to bruise and tear one’s +fingers, 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 of +powder, stifling one; and the terrible burning of the eyes, from the +dust and the feeble light. There was no way to rub these burning eyes, +because everything about one was equally dusty. Could anybody have +imagined the torment of that--any of those ladies who rode in softly +upholstered parlour-cars, or reclined upon the decks of steam-ships in +gleaming tropic seas? + +Old Mike was good to his new “buddy.” Mike’s spine was bent and his +hands were hardened by forty years of this sort of toil, so he could do +the work of two men, and entertain his friend with comments into the +bargain. The old fellow had the habit of talking all the time, like a +child; he would talk to his helper, to himself, to his tools. He would +call these tools by obscene and terrifying names--but with entire +friendliness and good humour. “Get in there, you son-of-a-gun!” he would +say 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. And +he would lecture Hal on the details of mining. He would tell stories of +successful days, or of terrible mishaps. Above all he would tell about +rascality--cursing the “G. F. C.,” its foremen and superintendents, its +officials, directors and stock-holders, and the world which permitted +such 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 on +his chin, and as his jaws moved, he looked for all the world like an +aged billy-goat. He was a kind-hearted and anxious old billy-goat, and +sought 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 stoke +the furnace. Failing in this, he would try to divert Hal’s mind, telling +stories of mining-life in America and Russia. He was most proud to have +an “American feller” for a buddy, and tried to make the work as easy as +possible, for fear lest Hal might quit. + +Hal did not quit; but he would drag himself out towards night, so +exhausted that he would fall asleep in the cage. He would fall asleep at +supper, 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 the +sleep out of his head, and move his creaking joints, and become aware of +the 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 got +fully used to the labour. It was impossible for any one to work so hard +and keep his mental alertness, his eagerness and sensitiveness; it was +impossible to work so hard and be an adventurer--to be anything, in +fact, but a machine. Hal had heard that phrase of contempt, “the inertia +of the masses,” and had wondered about it. He no longer wondered, he +knew. Could a man be brave enough to protest to a pit-boss when his body +was numb with weariness? Could he think out a definite conclusion as to +his 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, to +see the storm. In this ocean of social misery, of ignorance and despair, +one saw upturned, tortured faces, writhing limbs and clutching hands; in +one’s ears was a storm of lamentation, upon one’s cheek a spray of blood +and tears. Hal found himself so deep in this ocean that he could no +longer find consolation in the thought that he could escape whenever he +wanted to: that he could say to himself, It is sad, it is terrible--but +thank God, I can get out of it when I choose! I can go back into the +warm and well-lighted saloon and tell the other passengers how +picturesque it is, what an interesting experience they are missing! + + + +SECTION 23. + +During these days of torment, Hal did not go to see “Red Mary”; but +then, one evening, the Minettis’ baby having been sick, she came in to +ask about it, bringing what she called “a bit of a custard” in a bowl. +Hal was suspicious enough of the ways of men, especially of +business-men; but when it came to women he was without insight--it did +not occur to him as singular that an Irish girl with many troubles at +home should come out to nurse a Dago woman’s baby. He did not reflect +that there were plenty of sick Irish babies in the camp, to whom Mary +might have taken her “bit of a custard.” And when he saw the surprise of +Rosa, who had never met Mary before, he took it to be the touching +gratitude of the poor! + +There are, in truth, many kinds of women, with many arts, and no man has +time to learn them all. Hal had observed the shop-girl type, who dress +themselves with many frills, and cast side-long glances, and indulge in +fits of giggles to attract the attention of the male; he was familiar +with the society-girl type, who achieve the same end with more subtle +and alluring means. But could there be a type who hold little Dago +babies in their laps, and call them pretty Irish names, and feed them +custard out of a spoon? Hal had never heard of that kind, and he thought +that “Red Mary” made a charming picture--a Celtic madonna with a +Sicilian infant in her arms. + +He noticed that she was wearing the same faded blue calico-dress with a +patch on the shoulder. Man though he was, he realised that dress is an +important consideration in the lives of women. He was tempted to suspect +that this blue calico might be the only dress that Mary owned; but +seeing it newly laundered every time, he concluded that she must have at +least one other. At any rate, here she was, crisp and fresh-looking; and +with the new shining costume, she had put on the long promised “company +manner”: high spirits and badinage, precisely like any belle of the +world of luxury, who powders and bedecks herself for a ball. She had +been grim and complaining in former meetings with this interesting young +man; she had frightened him away, apparently; perhaps she could win him +back by womanliness and good humour. + +She rallied him upon his battered scalp and his creaking back, telling +him 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 of +caste, it appeared! This was a joke the Minettis could share +in--especially Little Jerry, who liked jokes. He told Mary how Joe Smith +had had to pay fifteen dollars for his new job, besides several drinks +at O’Callahan’s. Also he told how Mike Sikoria had called Joe his “green +mule.” Little Jerry complained about the turn of events, for in the old +days 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 of +jolly songs, full of the most fascinating rhymes. There was a song about +a “monkey puzzle tree”! Had Mary ever seen that kind of tree? Little +Jerry never got tired of trying to imagine what it might look like. + +The Dago urchin stood and watched gravely while Mary fed the custard to +the baby; and when two or three spoonfuls were held out to him, he +opened his mouth wide, and afterwards licked his lips. Gee, that was +good 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 never +sure 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 he +turned to Hal. “Ain’t it?” + +“You bet,” said Hal, and added, “Go on and tell her about it. Girls like +compliments.” + +“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 a +mountain-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, wincing +with pain, to escort her home. She regarded him gravely, having not +realised before how seriously he was suffering. As they walked along she +asked, “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--an +American!” + +“Well,” said Hal, “I thought it would be interesting to see coal +mining.” + +“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 a +plank!” + +Her “company manner” was gone; her voice was full of bitterness, as it +always 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 find +anywhere 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’ and +cry to them, ‘Go back, go back! Go down the canyon this day! Starve, if +ye have to, beg if ye have to, only find some other work but +coal-minin’!’” + +Her voice had risen to a passion of protest; when she went on a new note +came into it--a note of personal terror. “It’s worse now--since you +came, Joe! To see ye settin’ out on the life of a miner--you, that are +young 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,” he +said. “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 that +should go away, Mary. It’s yourself. You hate the place--it’s terrible +for 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 gone +from her voice; it was flat and dull with despair. “’Tis no use to think +of me. There’s nothin’ I can do--there’s nothin’ any girl can do when +she’s poor. I’ve tried--but ’tis like bein’ up against a stone wall. I +can’t even save the money to get on a train with! I’ve tried it--I been +savin’ 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 where +there’s so many things that wring the heart. Ye may hate them for being +cowards--but ye must help when ye see a man killed, and his family +turned 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’d +have to spend more, and what I sent home would not go so far, with me +away. Or I could get a job in some other woman’s home, and work fourteen +hours a day for it. But, Joe, ’tis not more drudgery I want, ’tis +somethin’ fair to look upon--somethin’ of my own!” She flung out her +arms suddenly like one being stifled. “Oh, I want somethin’ that’s fair +and clean!” + +Again he felt her trembling. Again the path was rough, and having an +impulse of sympathy, he put his arm about her. In the world of leisure, +one might indulge in such considerateness, and he assumed it would not +be different with a miner’s daughter. But then, when she was close to +him, he felt, rather than heard, a sob. + +“Mary!” he whispered; and they stopped. Almost without realising it, he +put his other arm about her, and in a moment more he felt her warm +breath 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 primrose +path of dalliance stretched fair before him, here in the soft summer +night, with a moon overhead which bore the same message as it bore in +the Italian gardens of the leisure-class. But not many minutes passed +before 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 growing +in him since his coming to this place--a resolve to find some way of +compensation to the poor, to repay them for the freedom and culture he +had taken; not to prey upon them, upon any individual among them. There +were 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 against +him. According to the simple code of her world, he had gone some +distance with her; he had been seen to walk out with her, he had been +accounted her “fellow.” He had led her to talk to him of herself--he had +insisted upon having her confidences. And these people who were poor did +not have subtleties, there was no room in their lives for intellectual +curiosities, for Platonic friendships or philanderings. “Forgive me, +Mary!” he said. + +She made no answer; but a sob escaped her, and she drew back from his +arms--slowly. He struggled with an impulse to clasp her again. She was +beautiful, 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? You +must know--I’m so _sorry_!” + +But she could not endure being pitied. “’Tis nothin’,” she said. “Only I +thought 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; and +one evening the boss stopped him on the street, and asked him if he had +anything to report. Hal took the occasion to indulge his sense of +humour. + +“There’s no harm in Mike Sikoria,” said he. “He likes to shoot off his +head, but if he’s got somebody to listen, that’s all he wants. He’s just +old and grouchy. But there’s another fellow that I think would bear +watching.” + +“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 keeps +bringing 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 the +pit-boss’s face. + +He went away, smiling in his turn. The “red-faced feller. Gus,” was the +person Madvik had named as being a “spotter” for the company! + +There were ins and outs to this matter of “spotting,” and sometimes it +was not easy to know what to think. One Sunday morning Hal went for a +walk up the canyon, and on the way he met a young chap who got to +talking with him, and after a while brought up the question of +working-conditions in North Valley. He had only been there a week, he +said, but everybody he had met seemed to be grumbling about short +weight. He himself had a job as an “outside man,” so it made no +difference to him, but he was interested, and wondered what Hal had +found. + +Straightway came the question, was this really a workingman, or had Alec +Stone set some one to spying upon his spy. This was an intelligent +fellow, an American--which in itself was suspicious, for most of the new +men the company got in were from “somewhere East of Suez.” + +Hal decided to spar for a while. He did not know, he said, that +conditions were any worse here than elsewhere. You heard complaints, no +matter what sort of job you took. + +Yes, said the stranger, but matters seemed to be especially bad in the +coal-camps. Probably it was because they were so remote, and the +companies 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 dozen +of the camps. In Mateo he had paid a dollar a month for wash-house +privileges, and there had never been any water after the first three men +had washed. There had been a common wash-tub for all the men, an +unthinkably filthy arrangement. At Pine Creek--Hal found the very naming +of the place made his heart stand still--at Pine Creek he had boarded +with his boss, but the roof of the building leaked, and everything he +owned 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 fellows +had rented a two room cabin and started to board themselves, in spite of +the fact that they had to pay a dollar-fifty a sack for potatoes and +eleven cents a pound for sugar at the company store. They had continued +until they made the discovery that the water supply had run short, and +that the water for which they were paying the company a dollar a month +was being pumped from the bottom of the mine, where the filth of mules +and men was plentiful! + +Hal forced himself to remain non-committal; he shook his head and said +it was too bad, but the workers always got it in the neck, and he didn’t +see what they could do about it. So they strolled back to the camp, the +stranger evidently baffled, and Hal, for his part, feeling like the +reader of a detective story at the end of the first chapter. Was this +young man the murderer, or was he the hero? One would have to read on in +the book to find out! + + + +SECTION 26. + +Hal kept his eye upon his new acquaintance, and perceived that he was +talking with others. Before long the man tackled Old Mike; and Mike of +course could not refuse an invitation to grumble, though it came from +the devil himself. Hal decided that something must be done about it. + +He consulted his friend Jerry, who, being a radical, might have some +touch-stone by which to test the stranger. Jerry sought him out at +noon-time, and came back and reported that he was as much in the dark as +Hal. Either the man was an agitator, seeking to “start something,” or +else he was a detective sent in by the company. There was only one way +to find out--which was for some one to talk freely with him, and see +what happened to that person! + +After some hesitation, Hal decided that he would be the victim. It +rewakened his love of adventure, which digging in a coal-mine had +subdued in him. The mysterious stranger was a new sort of miner, digging +into the souls of men; Hal would countermine him, and perhaps blow him +up. He could afford the experiment better than some others--better, for +example, than little Mrs. David, who had already taken the stranger into +her home, and revealed to him the fact that her husband had been a +member of the most revolutionary of all miners’ organisations, the South +Wales Federation. + +So next Sunday Hal invited the stranger for another walk. The man showed +reluctance--until Hal said that he wanted to talk to him. As they walked +up the canyon, Hal began, “I’ve been thinking about what you said of +conditions in these camps, and I’ve concluded it would be a good thing +if 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 now +I’ve had a chance to see for myself, and I don’t believe anybody gets a +square deal. For one thing, nobody gets full weight in these mines--at +least not unless he’s some favourite of the boss. I’m sure of it, for +I’ve tried all sorts of experiments with my partner. We’ve loaded a car +extra light, and got eighteen hundredweight, and then we’ve loaded one +high and solid, so that we’d know it had twice as much in it--but all we +ever got was twenty-two and twenty-three. There’s just no way you can +get over that--though everybody knows those big cars can be made to hold +two 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 paying +fifty-five a ton, but they’ve secretly cut you down to thirty-five. And +yesterday at the company-store I paid a dollar and a half for a pair of +blue overalls that I’d priced in Pedro for sixty cents.” + +“Well,” said the other, “the company has to haul them up here, you +know!” + +So, gradually, Hal made the discovery that the tables were turned--the +mysterious personage was now occupied in holding _him_ at arm’s length! +For some reason, Hal’s sudden interest in industrial justice had failed +to make an impression. + +So his career as a detective came to an inglorious end. “Say, man!” he +exclaimed “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, trying +to find each other under water. I think we’d better come to the surface +to do our fighting.” + +The other considered the simile, and seemed to like it. “You come +first,” said he. But he did not smile. His quiet blue eyes were fixed on +Hal with deadly seriousness. + +“All right,” said Hal; “my story isn’t very thrilling. I’m not an +escaped convict, I’m not a company spy, as you may be thinking. Nor am I +a ‘natural born’ coal-miner. I happen to have a brother and some friends +at home who think they know about the coal-industry, and it got on my +nerves, and I came to see for myself. That’s all, except that I’ve found +things 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 exactly +what 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 trust +somebody, if I’m ever to get anywhere. I picked you out because I liked +your face.” He gave Hal another searching look as he walked. “Your smile +isn’t that of a cheat. But you’re young--so let me remind you of the +importance of secrecy in this place.” + +“I’ll keep mum,” said Hal; and the stranger opened a flap inside his +shirt, and drew out a letter which certified him to be Thomas Olson, an +organiser for the United Mine-Workers, the great national union of the +coal-miners! + + + +SECTION 27. + +Hal was so startled by this discovery that he stopped in his tracks and +gazed at the man. He had heard a lot about “trouble-makers” in the +camps, but so far the only kind he had seen were those hired by the +company to make trouble for the men. But now, here was a union +organiser! Jerry had suggested the possibility, but Hal had not thought +of it seriously; an organiser was a mythological creature, whispered +about by the miners, cursed by the company and its servants, and by +Hal’s friends at home. An incendiary, a fire-brand, a loudmouthed, +irresponsible person, stirring up blind and dangerous passions! Having +heard such things all his life, Hal’s first impulse was of distrust. He +felt like the one-legged old switchman who had given him a place to +sleep, after his beating at Pine Creek, and who had said, “Don’t you +talk no union business to me!” + +Seeing Hal’s emotion, the organiser gave an uneasy laugh. “While you’re +hoping I’m not a ‘dick,’ I trust you understand I’m hoping _you’re_ not +one.” + +Hal’s answer was to the point. “I was taken for an organiser once,” he +said, and his hands sought the seat of his ancient bruises. + +The other laughed. “You got off with a beating? You were lucky. Down in +Alabama, 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 have +said 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 you +deserved.” + +“Yes, that seems to be their attitude. That’s the rule they apply to all +the world--if anything goes wrong with you, it must be your own fault. +It’s a land of equal opportunity.” + +“And you’ll notice,” said the organiser, “that the more privileges +people have had, the more boldly they talk that way.” + +Hal began to feel a sense of comradeship with this stranger, who was +able to understand one’s family troubles! It had been a long time since +Hal had talked with any one from the outside world, and he found it a +relief to his mind. He remembered how, after he had got his beating, he +had lain out in the rain and congratulated himself that he was not what +the guards had taken him for. Now he was curious about the psychology of +an organiser. A man must have strong convictions to follow that +occupation! + +He made the remark, and the other answered, “You can have my pay any +time you’ll do my work. But let me tell you, too, it isn’t being beaten +and kicked out of camp that bothers one most; it isn’t the camp-marshal +and the spy and the blacklist. Your worst troubles are inside the heads +of the fellows you’re trying to help! Have you ever thought what it +would mean to try to explain things to men who speak twenty different +languages?” + +“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. Or +maybe the first man you try to convert reports you to the boss. For, of +course, 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 glass +of 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 one +can’t blame the poor devils. They’re ignorant--kept so deliberately. The +bosses bring them here, and have a regular system to keep them from +getting together. And of course these European peoples have their old +prejudices--national prejudices, religious prejudices, that keep them +apart. You see two fellows, one you think is exactly as miserable as the +other--but you find him despising the other, because back home he was +the other’s superior. So they play into the bosses’ hands.” + + + +SECTION 28. + +They had come to a remote place in the canyon, and found themselves +seats on a flat rock, where they could talk in comfort. + +“Put yourself in their place,” said the organiser. “They’re in a strange +country, and one person tells them one thing, and another tells them +something else. The masters and their agents say: ‘Don’t trust the union +agitators. They’re a lot of grafters, they live easy and don’t have to +work. They take your money and call you out on strike, and you lose your +jobs and your home; they sell you out, maybe, and go on to some other +place to repeat the same trick.’ And the workers think maybe that’s +true; 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’re +completely bedevilled; they don’t know which way to turn.” + +The man was speaking quietly, but there was a little glow of excitement +in his face. “The company is forever repeating that these people are +satisfied--that it’s we who are stirring them up. But are they +satisfied? You’ve been here long enough to know!” + +“There’s no need to discuss that,” Hal answered. “Of course they’re not +satisfied! They’ve seemed to me like a lot of children crying in the +dark--not knowing what’s the matter with them, or who’s to blame, or +where to turn for help.” + +Hal found himself losing his distrust of this man. He did not correspond +in any way to Hal’s imaginary picture of a union organiser; he was a +blue-eyed, clean-looking young American, and instead of being wild and +loud-mouthed, he seemed rather wistful. He had indignation, of course, +but it did not take the form of ranting or florid eloquence; and this +repression was making its appeal to Hal, who, in spite of his democratic +impulses, had the habits of thought of a class which shrinks from +noisiness and over-emphasis. + +Also Hal was interested in his attitude towards the weaknesses of +working-people. The “inertia” of the poor, which caused so many people +to despair for them--their cowardice and instability--these were things +about which Hal had heard all his life. “You can’t help them,” people +would say. “They’re dirty and lazy, they drink and shirk, they betray +each other. They’ve always been like that.” The idea would be summed up +in a formula: “You can’t change human nature!” Even Mary Burke, herself +one of the working-class, spoke of the workers in this angry and +scornful way. But Olson had faith in their manhood, and went ahead to +awaken and teach them. + +To his mind the path was clear and straight. “They must be taught the +lesson of solidarity. As individuals, they’re helpless in the power of +the great corporations; but if they stand together, if they sell their +labour as a unit--then they really count for something.” He paused, and +looked at the other inquiringly. “How do you feel about unions?” + +Hal answered, “They’re one of the things I want to find out about. You +hear this and that--there’s so much prejudice on each side. I want to +help 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 tender +hearts of the owners?” + +“Not exactly; but mightn’t one appeal to the world in general--to public +opinion? I was brought up an American, and learned to believe in my +country. I can’t think but there’s some way to get justice. Maybe if the +men 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 in +these camps!” + +“I can imagine, of course--” + +“No, you can’t. Any more than you could imagine the graft and the +misery!” + +“But if the men should take to voting together--” + +“How _can_ they take to voting together--when any one who mentions the +idea goes down the canyon? Why, you can’t even get naturalisation +papers, unless you’re a company man; they won’t register you, unless the +boss gives you an O. K. How are you going to make a start, unless you +have a union?” + +It sounded reasonable, Hal had to admit; but he thought of the stories +he 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 about +coal-mining--the eight-hour law, the anti-scrip law, the company-store +law, the mine-sprinkling law, the check-weighman law. What difference +has it made in North Valley that there are such laws on the +statute-books? Would you ever even know about them?” + +“Ah, now!” said Hal. “If you put it that way--if your movement is to +have the law enforced--I’m with you!” + +“But how will you get the law enforced, except by a union? No individual +man 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 they +never 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 union +is the thing that counts!” + +Hal found this an entirely new argument. “People don’t realise that +idea--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 you +want to make a list of the things that people don’t realise about us +miners!” + + + +SECTION 29. + +Olson was eager to win Hal, and went on to tell all the secrets of his +work. He sought men who believed in unions, and were willing to take the +risk of trying to convert others. In each place he visited he would get +a group together, and would arrange some way to communicate with them +after he left, smuggling in propaganda literature for distribution. So +there would be the nucleus of an organisation. In a year or two they +would have such a nucleus in every camp, and then they would be ready to +come into the open, calling meetings in the towns, and in places in the +canyons to which the miners would flock. So the flame of revolt would +leap up; men would join the movement faster than the companies could get +rid of them, and they would make a demand for their rights, backed with +the threat of a strike throughout the entire district. + +“You understand,” added Olson, “we have a legal right to organise--even +though 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, it +would be better here in North Valley if you chose some issue there’s +less controversy about; if, for instance, you’d concentrate on getting a +check-weighman.” + +The other smiled. “We’d have to have a union to back the demand; so +what’s the difference?” + +“Well,” argued Hal, “there are prejudices to be reckoned with. Some +people don’t like the idea of a union--they think it means tyranny and +violence--” + +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 of +getting 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 had +become a buddy, working in a place five feet high. This would promise +livelier times! + +But was it a thing he wanted to do? So far he had been an observer of +conditions in this coal-camp. He had convinced himself that conditions +were cruel, and he had pretty well convinced himself that the cruelty +was needless and deliberate. But when it came to a question of an action +to be taken--then he hesitated, and old prejudices and fears made +themselves heard. He had been told that labour was “turbulent” and +“lazy,” that it had to be “ruled with a strong hand”; now, was he +willing 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 suggestion +of Olson’s was different from trade unionism, which might be a +demoralising force, leading the workers from one demand to another, +until they were seeking to “dominate industry.” This would be merely an +appeal to the law, a test of that honesty and fair dealing to which the +company everywhere laid claim. If, as the bosses proclaimed, the workers +were fully protected by the check-weighman law; if, as all the world was +made to believe, the reason there was no check-weighman was simply +because the men did not ask for one--why, then there would be no harm +done. If on the other hand a demand for a right that was not merely a +legal right, but a moral right as well--if that were taken by the bosses +as an act of rebellion against the company--well, Hal would understand a +little more about the “turbulence” of labour! If, as Old Mike and +Johannson and the rest maintained, the bosses would “make your life one +damn misery” till you left--then he would be ready to make a few damn +miseries 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’ve +got a brother at home, and when I think about going in for revolution, I +have imaginary arguments with him. I want to be able to say ‘I didn’t +swallow anybody’s theories; I tried it for myself, and this is what +happened.’” + +“Well,” replied the organiser, “that’s all right. But while you’re +seeking education for yourself and your brother, don’t forget that I’ve +already got my education. I _know_ what happens to men who ask for a +check-weighman, and I can’t afford to sacrifice myself proving it +again.” + +“I never asked you to,” laughed Hal. “If I won’t join your movement, I +can’t expect you to join mine! But if I can find a few men who are +willing to take the risk of making a demand for a check-weighman--that +won’t hurt your work, will it?” + +“Sure not!” said the other. “Just the opposite--it’ll give me an object +lesson to point to. There are men here who don’t even know they’ve a +legal right to a check-weighman. There are others who know they don’t +get 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 they +should go further and fire the men who ask it--well, there’ll be plenty +of 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 than +that of stableman or buddy, with perils greater than those of falling +rock or the hind feet of mules in the stomach. The inertia which +overwork produces had not had time to become a disease with him; youth +was on his side, with its zest for more and yet more experience. He +found it thrilling to be a conspirator, to carry about with him secrets +as 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 in +North Valley, was older in such thrills. The care-free look which Jerry +was 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--what +good that do? No help any. No use to vote here--they don’t count no +Socialist vote, only for joke!’ I say, ‘Got to have union. Got to +strike!’ But Rosa say, ‘Wait little bit. Save little bit money, let +children 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 have +another 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, who +sat with her black eyes fixed anxiously upon her husband. “We get into +it,” he said; and Hal saw their eyes turn to the room where Little Jerry +and the baby were sleeping. + +Hal said nothing--he was beginning to understand the meaning of +rebellion to such people. He watched with curiosity and pity the +struggle that went on; a struggle as old as the soul of man--between the +voice of self-interest, of comfort and prudence, and the call of duty, +of the ideal. No trumpet sounded for this conflict, only the still small +voice within. + +After a while Jerry asked what it was Hal and Olson had planned; and Hal +explained that he wanted to make a test of the company’s attitude toward +the check-weighman law. Hal thought it a fine scheme; what did Jerry +think? + +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 the +check-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 no +families. Some of the fellows who live in the chicken-coops in +shanty-town. They won’t care what happens to them.” + +But Jerry would not share Hal’s smile. “No got sense ’nough, them +fellers. Take sense to stick together.” He explained that they would +need a group of men to stand back of the committee; such a group would +have to be organised, to hold meetings in secret--it would be +practically the same thing as a union, would be so regarded by the +bosses and their spotters. And no organisation of any sort was permitted +in the camps. There had been some Serbians who had wanted to belong to a +fraternal order back in their home country, but even that had been +forbidden. If you wanted to insure your life or your health, the company +would attend to it--and get the profit from it. For that matter, you +could not even buy a post-office money-order, to send funds back to the +old country; the post-office clerk, who was at the same time a clerk in +the company-store, would sell you some sort of a store-draft. + +So Hal was facing the very difficulties about which Olson had warned +him. 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 because +he had never been in Jerry’s place! + +“All I’ll ask of you now is advice,” said Hal. “Give me the names of +some young fellows who are trustworthy, and I’ll get their help without +anybody suspecting you.” + +“You my boarder!” was Jerry’s reply to this. + +So again Hal was “up against it.” “You mean that would get you into +trouble?” + +“Sure! They know we talk. They know I talk Socialism, anyhow. They fire +me sure!” + +“But how about your cousin, the pit-boss in Number One?” + +“He no help. May be get fired himself. Say damn fool--board +check-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 to +lose their boarder, who was such good company, and paid them such good +money. As for Hal, he felt nearly as bad, for he liked Jerry and his +girl-wife, and Little Jerry--even the black-eyed baby, who made so much +noise 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 want +the best men put out at once.” + +So, after further argument, it was decided, and Hal saw little Rosa sink +back in her chair and draw a deep breath of relief. The time for +martyrdom was put off; her little three-roomed cabin, her furniture and +her shining pans and her pretty white lace curtains, might be hers for a +few weeks longer! + + + +SECTION 2. + +Hal went back to Reminitsky’s boarding-house; a heavy sacrifice, but not +without its compensations, because it gave him more chance to talk with +the men. + +He and Jerry made up a list of those who could be trusted with the +secret: the list beginning with the name of Mike Sikoria. To be put on a +committee, and sent to interview a boss, would appeal to Old Mike as the +purpose for which he had been put upon earth! But they would not tell +him about it until the last minute, for fear lest in his excitement he +might 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. The +road into this man’s room ran up an incline, and he had hardly been able +to push his “empties” up the grade. While he was sweating and straining +at the task, Alec Stone had come along, and having a giant’s contempt +for physical weakness, began to cuff him. The man raised his +arm--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 allowed +only three dollars for it. No one who watched his face when the pit-boss +passed would doubt that this man would be ready to take his chances in a +movement of protest. + +Then there was a man whom Jerry knew, who had just come out of the +hospital, after contact with the butt-end of the camp-marshal’s +revolver. This was a Pole, who unfortunately did not know a word of +English; but Olson, the organiser, had got into touch with another Pole, +who spoke a little English, and would pass the word on to his +fellow-countryman. Also there was a young Italian, Rovetta, whom Jerry +knew and whose loyalty he could vouch for. + +There was another person Hal thought of--Mary Burke. He had been +deliberately avoiding her of late; it seemed the one safe thing to +do--although it seemed also a cruel thing, and left his mind ill at +ease. He went over and over what had happened. How had the trouble got +started? It is a man’s duty in such cases to take the blame upon +himself; but a man does not like to take blame upon himself, and he +tries to make it as light as possible. Should Hal say that it was +because he had been too officious that night in helping Mary where the +path was rough? She had not actually needed such help, she was quite as +capable on her feet as he! But he had really gone farther than that--he +had had a definite sentimental impulse; and he had been a cad--he should +have known all along that all this girl’s discontent, all the longing of +her 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 new +interest for Mary, a safe channel in which her emotions could run. A +woman could not serve on a miners’ committee, but she would be a good +adviser, and her sharp tongue would be a weapon to drive others into +line. Being aflame with this enterprise, Hal became impersonal, +man-fashion--and so fell into another sentimental trap! He did not stop +to think that Mary’s interest in the check-weighman movement might be +conditioned in part by a desire to see more of him; still less did it +occur 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 inspiriting +than cooking and nursing. His “poetry-book” imagination took fire; he +gave her a hope and a purpose, a pathway with a goal at the end. Had +there 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 a +cheerin’ sight to see ye, Joe Smith!” she said. And she looked him in +the 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 noticed +that she was paler than when he had seen her last. Could it be that +these gorgeous Irish complexions ever faded? He thought that she was +thinner 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 shining +like a crown of gold. You were mounted on a snow-white horse, and wore a +robe of white, soft and lustrous--like Joan of Arc, or a leader in a +suffrage parade. You were riding at the head of a host--I’ve still got +the 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--Mary +folding her hands in her lap like a child who has been promised a +fairy-story. “Now hurry,” said she. “I want to know about this new dress +ye’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 and +devotion 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 was +an organiser of the “big union” in the camp, and he was going to rouse +the slaves to protest. + +The laughter went out of Mary’s face. “Oh! It’s that!” she said, in a +flat tone. The vision of the snow-white horse and the soft and lustrous +robe 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 turned +out of your home--” + +“Do ye have to tell me that?” she cried, with sudden passion. “Haven’t I +seen that?” + +“Yes, Mary; but I want to _do_ something--” + +“Yes, and haven’t I wanted to do something? Sure, I’ve wanted to bite +off the noses of the bosses!” + +“Well,” he laughed, “we’ll make that a part of our programme.” But Mary +was not to be lured into cheerfulness; her mood was so full of pain and +bewilderment that he had an impulse to reach out and take her hand +again. But he checked that; he had come to divert her energies into a +safe channel! + +“We must waken these men to resistance, Mary!” + +“Ye can’t do it, Joe--not the English-speakin’ men. The Greeks and the +Bulgars, maybe--they’re fightin’ at home, and they might fight here. But +the 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 man +of them. They grumble, and curse the boss, but then they think of the +blacklist, and they go back and cringe at his feet.” + +“What such men want--” + +“’Tis booze they want, and carousin’ with the rotten women in the +coal-towns, and sittin’ up all night winnin’ each other’s money with a +greasy 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 for +trying to teach them? If not for their own sakes, for the sake of their +children! The children, mustn’t grow up like that! They are learning +English, 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 twenty +children packed in one room, three in a seat, and solid all round the +wall. She went on, with swift anger--the school was supposed to be paid +for out of taxes, but as nobody owned any property but the company, it +was all in the company’s hands. The school-board consisted of Mr. +Cartwright, the mine-superintendent, and Jake Predovich, a clerk in the +store, and the preacher, the Reverend Spraggs. Old Spraggs would bump +his nose on the floor if the “super” told him to. + +“Now, now!” said Hal, laughing. “You’re down on him because his +grandfather was an Orangeman!” + + + +SECTION 3. + +Mary Burke had been suckled upon despair, and the poison of it was deep +in her blood. Hal began to realise that it would be as hard to give her +a 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 no +courage for themselves? + +“Mary,” he said, “in your heart you don’t really hate these people. You +know how they suffer, you pity them for it. You give their children your +last 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 bosses +I would murder, sometimes ’tis the men. What is it ye’re wantin’ me to +do?” + +And then, even before he could answer, she began to run over the list of +her acquaintances in the camp. Yes, there was one man Hal ought to talk +to; he would be too old to join them, but his advice would be +invaluable, and they could be sure he would never betray them. That was +old John Edstrom, a Swede from Minnesota, who had worked in this +district from the time the mines had first started up. He had been +active 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 of +the world, but the father had stayed nearby, working as a ranch-hand and +railroad labourer, until a couple of years ago, during a rush season, he +had got a chance to come back into the mines. + +He was old, old, declared Mary--must be sixty. And when Hal remarked +that that did not sound so frightfully aged, she answered that one +seldom heard of a man being able to work in a coal-mine at that age; in +fact, there were not many who managed to live to that age. Edstrom’s +wife was dying now, and he was having a hard time. + +“’Twould not be fair to let such an old gentleman lose his job,” said +Mary. “But at least he could give ye good advice.” + +So that evening the two of them went to call on John Edstrom, in a tiny +unpainted cabin in “shanty-town,” with a bare earth floor, and a half +partition of rough boards to hide his dying wife from his callers. The +woman’s trouble was cancer, and this made calling a trying matter, for +there was a fearful odour in the place. For some time it was impossible +for Hal to force himself to think about anything else; but finally he +overcame this weakness, telling himself that this was a war, and that a +man 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 stopped +with rags, and the broken windowpanes mended with brown paper. The old +man had evidently made an effort to keep the place neat, and Hal noticed +a row of books on a shelf. Because it was cold in these mountain regions +at night, even in September, the old man had a fire in the little +cast-iron stove, and sat huddled by it. There were only a few hairs left +on his head, and his scrubby beard was as white as anything could be in +a coal-camp. The first impression of his face was of its pallor, and +then of the benevolence in the faded dark eyes; also his voice was +gentle, like a caress. He rose to greet his visitors, and put out to Hal +a trembling hand, which resembled the paw of some animal, horny and +misshapen. He made a move to draw up a bench, and apologised for his +unskillful house-keeping. It occurred to Hal that a man might be able to +work in a coal-mine at sixty, and not be able to work in it at +sixty-one. + +Hal had requested Mary to say nothing about his purpose, until after he +had 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 give +her 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 of +explanation to Hal, “He’s a cousin of the super.” + +Things were better here than in some places, said Edstrom. At Harvey’s +Run, where he had worked, a man had got his eye hurt, and had lost it +through the doctor’s instrument slipping; broken arms and legs had been +set wrong, and either the men had to go through life as cripples, or go +elsewhere and have the bones re-broken and reset, It was like everything +else--the doctor was a part of the company machine, and if you had too +much to say about him, it was down the canyon with you. You not only had +a dollar a month taken out of your pay, but if you were injured, and he +came 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--and +Dr. Barrett never set foot across her door till three hours after the +baby was in my arms!” + + + +SECTION 4. + +The talk went on. Wishing to draw the old man out, Hal spoke of various +troubles of the miners, and at last he suggested that the remedy might +be found in a union. Edstrom’s dark eyes studied him, and then turned to +Mary. “Joe’s all right,” said the girl, quickly. “You can trust him.” + +Edstrom made no direct answer to this, but remarked that he had once +been in a strike. He was a marked man, now, and could only stay in the +camp so long as he attended strictly to his own affairs. The part he had +played in the big strike had never been forgotten; the bosses had let +him work again, partly because they had needed him at a rush time, and +partly 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 whispered +tradition of the camps. There had been a mighty effort of ten thousand +slaves for freedom; and it had been crushed with utter ruthlessness. +Ever since these mines had been started, the operators had controlled +the local powers of government, and now, in the emergency, they had +brought in the state militia as well, and used it frankly to drive the +strikers back to work. They had seized the leaders and active men, and +thrown them into jail without trial or charges; when the jails would +hold 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 at +night out of the state, and dumped them off in the midst of the desert +without food or water. + +John Edstrom had been one of these men. He told how one of his sons had +been beaten and severely injured in jail, and how another had been kept +for weeks in a damp cellar, so that he had come out crippled with +rheumatism for life. The officers of the state militia had done these +things; and when some of the local authorities were moved to protest, +the militia had arrested them--even the judges of the civil courts had +been forbidden to sit, under threat of imprisonment. “To hell with the +constitution!” had been the word of the general in command; his +subordinate had made famous the saying, “No habeas corpus; we’ll give +them post-mortems!” + +Tom Olson had impressed Hal with his self-control, but this old man made +an even deeper impression upon him. As he listened, he became humble, +touched with awe. Incredible as it might seem, when John Edstrom talked +about his cruel experiences, it was without bitterness in his voice, and +apparently without any in his heart. Here, in the midst of want and +desolation, with his family broken and scattered, and the wolf of +starvation at his door, he could look back upon the past without hatred +of 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 studied +economics, and convinced himself that it was an evil system which +blinded men’s eyes and poisoned their souls. A better day was coming, he +said, when this evil system would be changed, and it would be possible +for men to be merciful to one another. + +At this point in the conversation, Mary Burke gave voice once more to +her corroding despair. How could things ever be changed? The bosses were +mean-hearted, and the men were cowards and traitors. That left nobody +but God to do the changing--and God had left things as they were for +such 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 when +they come to a ditch, the front ones fall in, and more and more of them +on top, till they fill up the ditch, and the rest cross over. We are +ants, 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 is +to go in. They cling to each other’s bodies, even in death; they make a +bridge, and the rest go over.” + +“I’ll step one side!” she declared, fiercely. “I’ll not throw meself +away.” + +“You may step one side,” answered the other--“but you’ll step back into +line again. I know you better than you know yourself, Mary.” + +There was silence in the little cabin. The winds of an early fall +shrilled outside, and life suddenly seemed to Hal a stern and merciless +thing. He had thought in his youthful fervour it would be thrilling to +be a revolutionist; but to be an ant, one of millions and millions, to +perish in a bottomless ditch--that was something a man could hardly +bring himself to face! He looked at the bowed figure of this white +haired toiler, vague in the feeble lamplight, and found himself thinking +of Rembrandt’s painting, the Visit of Emmaus: the ill-lighted room in +the dirty tavern, and the two ragged men, struck dumb by the glow of +light about the forehead of their table-companion. It was not fantastic +to imagine a glow of light about the forehead of this soft-voiced old +man! + +“I never had any hope it would come in my time,” the old man was saying +gently. “I did use to hope my boys might see it--but now I’m not sure +even of that. But in all my life I never doubted that some day the +working-people will cross over to the promised land. They’ll no longer +be slaves, and what they make won’t be wasted by idlers. And take it +from one who knows, Mary--for a workingman or woman not to have that +faith, is to have lost the reason for living.” + +Hal decided that it would be safe to trust this man, and told him of his +check-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 be +following. What little strength I have left might as well be used for +the cause.” + + + +SECTION 5. + +This business of conspiracy was grimly real to men whose living came out +of coal; but Hal, even at the most serious moments, continued to find in +it the thrill of romance. He had read stories of revolutionists, and of +the police who hunted them. That such excitements were to be had in +Russia, he knew; but if any one had told him they could be had in his +own free America, within a few hours’ journey of his home city and his +college-town, he could not have credited the statement. + +The evening after his visit to Edstrom, Hal was stopped on the street by +his boss. Encountering him suddenly, Hal started, like a pick-pocket who +runs 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 if +hand-cuffs were already on his wrists. + +“Say,” said the man, as they walked, “I thought you were going to tell +me if you’d heard any talk.” + +“I haven’t heard any, sir.” + +“Well,” continued Stone, “you want to get busy; there’s sure to be +kickers 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 and +motioned Hal to take another. They sat in semi-darkness, and Stone +dropped his voice as he began. “What I want to talk to you about now is +something 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 information +which 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’t +in 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 the +politicians, they’d be a sight better off. What they need is to tend to +their own jobs.” + +“Yes, sir,” agreed Hal, meekly--“like I had to tend to them mules, if I +didn’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 the +world.” + +“Thank you, Mr. Stone,” said Hal. “Give me a chance.” + +“Well now, here’s this election. Every year they send us a bunch of +campaign money to handle. A bit of it might come your way.” + +“I could use it, I reckon,” said Hal, brightening visibly. “What is it +you want?” + +There was a pause, while Stone puffed on his pipe. He went on, in a +business-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 men +that 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.’ is +Republican.” + +“I’ve heard so.” + +“You might think a congressman don’t have much to do with us, way off in +Washington; but it has a bad effect to have him campaigning, telling the +men 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 them +have been listening to this MacDougall talk. (MacDougall’s this here +Democrat, you know.) And I want to find out whether they’ve been sending +in literature to this camp, or have any agents here. You see, they claim +the 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 their +side, 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, and +we’ve made a local ordinance against meetings on the street. If they try +to bring in circulars, something has to happen to them before they get +distributed. 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 wants +elected; and you be on the lookout and see how they take it in the +camp.” + +“That sounds easy enough,” said Hal. “But tell me, Mr. Stone, why do you +bother? Do so many of these wops have votes?” + +“It ain’t the wops so much. We get them naturalised on purpose--they +vote our way for a glass of beer. But the English-speaking men, or the +foreigners that’s been here too long, and got too big for their +breeches--they’re the ones we got to watch. If they get to talking +politics, they don’t stop there; the first thing you know, they’re +listening 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 Si +Adams the other day, what I’m looking for is fellows that talk some new +lingo--one that nobody will ever understand! But I suppose that would be +too 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 if +you don’t want to!” + +“Well, I’ll tell you,” replied Stone; “it’s a question of the easiest +way to manage things. When I was superintendent over to Happy Gulch, we +didn’t waste no time on politics. The company was Democratic at that +time, and when election night come, we wrote down four hundred votes for +the Democratic candidates. But the first thing we knew, a bunch of +fellers was taken into town and got to swear they’d voted the Republican +ticket in our camp. The Republican papers were full of it, and some fool +judge ordered a recount, and we had to get busy over night and mark up a +new 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 wrong +candidate in your camp, the fact gets out, and if the returns is too +one-sided, there’s a lot of grumbling. There’s plenty of bosses that +don’t care, but I learned my lesson that time, and I got my own +method--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’s +one 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 the +motion of beefy hands with which Alec Stone illustrated these words. As +he went on, the tones of his voice did not seem so good-natured as +usual. “The fellows that don’t want to vote my way can go somewhere else +to 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 may +have occurred to him that it was not necessary to go into so much detail +in breaking in a political recruit. When he resumed, it was in a +good-natured tone of dismissal. “That’s what you do, kid. To-morrow you +get a sprained wrist, so you can’t work for a few days, and that’ll give +you 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 his +satisfaction! + +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’m +comparing ’em. For all you know, I may have somebody watching you.” + +“Yes,” said Hal, and grinned cheerfully. “I’ll not fail to bear that in +mind.” + + + +SECTION 6. + +The first thing Hal did was to seek out Tom Olson and narrate this +experience. The two of them had a merry time over it. “I’m the favourite +of a boss now!” laughed Hal. + +But the organiser became suddenly serious. “Be careful what you do for +that fellow.” + +“Why?” + +“He might use it on you later on. One of the things they try to do if +you make any trouble for them, is to prove that you took money from +them, 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 playing +the political game for him, then some fellow might remember that you did +ask 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 what +shall I say if he asks me for a report?” + +“You’d better put your job right through, Joe--so that he won’t have +time to ask for any report.” + +“All right,” was the reply. “But just the same, I’m going to get all the +fun 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 Old +Mike; and when finally he decided that he would have to lay off, Mike +followed him half way to the shaft, giving him advice about hot and cold +cloths. 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, and +the still more wonderful sunshine of a boss’s favour. + +First he went to his room at Reminitsky’s, and tied a strip of old shirt +about his wrist, and a clean handkerchief on top of that; by this symbol +he 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 even +so, he was not to be taken for a workingman. Everything about him spoke +of authority. + +“Morning, Mr. Cartwright,” said Hal. + +“Good morning,” replied the superintendent; then, with a glance at Hal’s +bandage, “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 you +think, Mr. Cartwright, that MacDougall stands any chance of being +elected?” + +“I don’t know,” replied the other, surprised. “I hope not. You aren’t +going to vote for him, are you?” + +“Oh, no. I’m a Republican--born that way. But I wondered if you’d heard +any MacDougall talk.” + +“Well, I’m hardly the one that would hear it. You take an interest in +politics?” + +“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 the +camp, 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 he +looked 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 the +spirit of political democracy, took the liberty of returning the gaze. +“You’re a wide-awake young fellow,” said Cartwright, at last. “Learn the +ropes here, and make yourself useful, and I’ll see you’re not passed +over.” + +“All right, sir--thank you.” + +“Maybe you’ll be made an election-clerk this time. That’s worth three +dollars a day, you know.” + +“Very good, sir.” And Hal put on his smile again. “They tell me you’re +the 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 dog +catcher, 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” was +of course absurdly presumptuous; the superintendent stood looking after +him with a puzzled frown upon his face. + + + +SECTION 7. + +Hal did not look back, but turned into the company-store. “North Valley +Trading Company” read the sign over the door; within was a Serbian woman +pointing out what she wanted to buy, and two little Lithuanian girls +watching the weighing of a pound of sugar. Hal strolled up to the person +who was doing the weighing, a middle-aged man with a yellow moustache +stained with tobacco-juice. “Morning, Judge.” + +“Huh!” was the reply from Silas Adams, justice of the peace in the town +of 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 the +sugar, the “J. P.” whittled off a fresh chew from his plug, and turned +to Hal. “What’ll you have?” + +Hal purchased half a pound of dried peaches, so that he might have an +excuse 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 he +had begun to believe it. + +“Pay pretty good up there?” + +“Yes, pretty fair.” Then, realising that he had no idea what would +constitute good pay in a grocery, Hal added, quickly, “Got a bad wrist +here!” + +“That so?” said the other. + +He did not show much sociability; but Hal persisted, refusing to believe +that any one in a country store would miss an opening to discuss +politics, even with a miner’s helper. “Tell me,” said he, “just what is +the matter with MacDougall?” + +“The matter with him,” said the Judge, “is that the company’s against +him.” He looked hard at the young miner. “You meddlin’ in politics?” he +growled. But the young miner’s gay brown eyes showed only appreciation +of the earlier response; so the “J. P.” was tempted into specifying the +would-be congressman’s vices. Thus conversation started; and pretty soon +the others in the store joined in--“Bob” Johnson, bookkeeper and +post-master, and “Jake” Predovich, the Galician Jew who was a member of +the local school-board, and knew the words for staple groceries in +fifteen languages. + +Hal listened to an exposition of the crimes of the political opposition +in Pedro County. Their candidate, MacDougall, had come to the state as a +“tin-horn gambler,” yet now he was going around making speeches in +churches, and talking about the moral sentiment of the community. “And +him with a district chairman keeping three families in Pedro!” declared +Si Adams. + +“Well,” ventured Hal, “if what I hear is true, the Republican chairman +isn’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 prohibition +vote; and we ain’t playin’ for the labour vote--tryin’ to stir up the +riff-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 to +Washington 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 the +ballot-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.” There +was an appreciative titter from the others, and the “J. P.” was moved to +reminiscence. “Two years ago I was election clerk, over to Sheridan, and +we 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 the +coal-counties! And there won’t be no recount business either!’ So we +held back our returns till the rest had come in, and when we seen how +many votes we needed, we wrote ’em down. And that settled it.” + +“That seems a simple method,” remarked Hal. “They’ll have to get up +early to beat Alf.” + +“You bet you!” said Si, with the complacency of one of the gang. “They +call this county the ‘Empire of Raymond.’” + +“It must be a cinch,” said Hal--“being the sheriff, and having the +naming 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, the +Post-master and the School-commissioner appeared like children listening +to 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’s +job.” + +This from the Judge; and the School-commissioner added, “De coin in dese +camps is beer.” + +“Oh, I see!” laughed Hal. “The companies buy Alf’s beer, and use it to +get him votes!” + +“Sure thing!” said the Post-master. + +At this moment he happened to reach into his pocket for a cigar, and Hal +observed a silver shield on the breast of his waistcoat. “That a +deputy’s badge?” he inquired, and then turned to examine the +School-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 the +School-commissioner, Hal put out his hand towards it. Instinctively the +other 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 managed +to keep the laugh on his face, but within he was conscious of other +feelings than those of amusement. He was losing that “first fine +careless rapture” with which he had set out to run with the hare and the +hounds in North Valley! + + + +SECTION 8. + +Two days after this beginning of Hal’s political career, it was arranged +that the workers who were to make a demand for a check-weighman should +meet in the home of Mrs. David. When Mike Sikoria came up from the pit +that day, Hal took him aside and told him of the gathering. A look of +delight came upon the old Slovak’s face as he listened; he grabbed his +buddy by the shoulders, crying, “You mean it?” + +“Sure meant it,” said Hal. “You want to be on the committee to go and +see the boss?” + +“_Pluha biedna_!” cried Mike--which is something dreadful in his own +language. “By Judas, I pack up my old box again!” + +Hal felt a guilty pang. Should he let this old man into the thing? “You +think you’ll have to move out of camp?” he asked. + +“Move out of state this time! Move back to old country, maybe!” And Hal +realised that he could not stop him now, even if he wanted to. The old +fellow was so much excited that he hardly ate any supper, and his buddy +was 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 one +by one, and by different routes. Hal was one of the first to arrive, and +he saw that the shades of the house had been drawn, and the lamps turned +low. 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-eyed +woman with a never-ceasing tongue, was bustling about, putting things in +order; she was so nervous that she could not sit still. This couple had +come from their birth-place only a year or so ago, and had brought all +their wedding presents to their new home--pictures and bric-a-brac and +linen. It was the prettiest home Hal had so far been in, and Mrs. David +was risking it deliberately, because of her indignation that her husband +had had to foreswear his union in order to get work in America. + +The young Italian, Rovetta, came, then old John Edstrom. There being not +chairs enough in the house, Mrs. David had set some boxes against the +wall, covering them with cloth; and Hal noticed that each person took +one of these boxes, leaving the chairs for the later comers. Each one as +he 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 she +had sunk back into her old mood of pessimism. He felt a momentary +resentment. He was so thrilled with this adventure; he wanted everybody +else to be thrilled--especially Mary! Like every one who has not +suffered much, he was repelled by a condition of perpetual suffering in +another. Of course Mary had good reasons for her black moods--but she +herself 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 this +wonderful proceeding, as if she had said: “I’m an ant, and I stay in +line--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 spare +them. After them came the Bulgarian, Wresmak; then the Polacks, Klowoski +and Zamierowski. Hal found these difficult names to remember, but the +Polacks were not at all sensitive about this; they would grin +good-naturedly while he practised, nor would they mind if he gave it up +and called them Tony and Pete. They were humble men, accustomed all +their lives to being driven about. Hal looked from one to another of +their bowed forms and toil-worn faces, appearing more than ever sombre +and mournful in the dim light; he wondered if the cruel persecution +which had driven them to protest would suffice to hold them in line. + +Once a newcomer, having misunderstood the orders, came to the front door +and knocked; and Hal noted that every one started, and some rose to +their feet in alarm. Again he recognised the atmosphere of novels of +Russian revolutionary life. He had to remind himself that these men and +women, gathered here like criminals, were merely planning to ask for a +right guaranteed them by the law! + +The last to come was an Austrian miner named Huszar, with whom Olson had +got into touch. Then, it being time to begin, everybody looked uneasily +at everybody else. Few of them had conspired before, and they did not +know quite how to set about it. Olson, the one who would naturally have +been their leader, had deliberately stayed away. They must run this +check-weighman affair for themselves! + +“Somebody talk,” said Mrs. David at last; and then, as the silence +continued, 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 fellow +talk.” + +But nobody else smiled. “Go on!” exclaimed old Mike; and so at last Hal +stood up. It was something he was to experience many times in the +future; because he was an American, and educated, he was forced into a +position of leadership. + +“As I understand it, you people want a check-weighman. Now, they tell me +the pay for a check-weighman should be three dollars a day, but we’ve +got only seven miners among us, and that’s not enough. I will offer to +take the job for twenty-five cents a day from each man, which will make +a dollar-seventy-five, less than what I’m getting now as a buddy. If we +get thirty men to come in, then I’ll take ten cents a day from each, and +make 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 the +men don’t get their weight. It would cost the company several hundred +dollars a day to give us our weight, and nobody should be so foolish as +to imagine they’ll do it without a struggle. We’ve got to make up our +minds 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 with +the response of the others. She gave Hal his first lesson in the +drilling of these polyglot masses. + +“Talk to them. Make them understand you!” And she pointed them out one +by one with her finger: “You! You! Wresmak, here, and you, Klowoski, and +you, Zam--you other Polish fellow. Want check-weighman. Want to get all +weight. Get all our money. Understand?” + +“Yes, yes!” + +“Get committee, go see super! Want check-weighman. Understand? Got to +have check-weighman! No back down, no scare.” + +“No--no scare!” Klowoski, who understood some English, explained rapidly +to Zamierowski; and Zamierowski, whose head was still plastered where +Jeff Cotton’s revolver had hit it, nodded eagerly in assent. In spite of +his bruises, he would stand by the others, and face the boss. + +This suggested another question. “Who’s going to do the talking to the +boss?” + +“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 the +check-weighman had been the source of the movement, and was engaged in +making a good paying job for himself. + +There was discussion back and forth, until finally John Edstrom spoke +up. “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 a +pause he went on: “If it isn’t to-night, it will be to-morrow, the +doctor says; and after that, nothing will matter. I shall have to go +down to Pedro to bury her, and if I have to stay, it will make little +difference 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 might +have some weight with him. Let Joe Smith and Sikoria and myself be the +ones to go and see him, and the rest of you wait, and don’t give up your +jobs unless you have to.” + + + +SECTION 9. + +Having settled the matter of the committee, Hal told the assembly how +Alec Stone had asked him to spy upon the men. He thought they should +know about it; the bosses might try to use it against him, as Olson had +warned. “They may tell you I’m a traitor,” he said. “You must trust me.” + +“We trust you!” exclaimed Mike, with fervour; and the others nodded +their agreement. + +“All right,” Hal answered. “You can rest sure of this one thing--if I +get onto that tipple, you’re going to get your weights!” + +“Hear, hear!” cried “Big Jack,” in English fashion. And a murmur ran +about the room. They did not dare make much noise, but they made clear +that that was what they wanted. + +Hal sat down, and began to unroll the bandage from his wrist. “I guess +I’m through with this,” he said, and explained how he had come to wear +it. + +“What?” cried Old Mike. “You fool me like that?” And he caught the +wrist, 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 the +tears ran down his cheeks. “You old son-of-a-gun!” he exclaimed. +Meantime Klowoski was telling the story to Zamierowski, and Jerry +Minetti was explaining it to Wresmak, in the sort of pidgin-English +which does duty in the camps. Hal had never seen such real laughter +since coming to North Valley. + +But conspirators cannot lend themselves long to merriment. They came +back to business again. It was agreed that the hour for the committee’s +visit to the superintendent should be quitting-time on the morrow. And +then John Edstrom spoke, suggesting that they should agree upon their +course 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 go +see boss, say air-course blocked. What you think he do them fellers? He +hit them one lick in nose, he kick them three times in behind, he run +them out!” + +“Well,” said Hal, “if there’s going to be anything like that, we must be +ready.” + +“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! Hal +tasted the joys of his leadership. But then his fine self-confidence met +with 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 get +ye’self killed for all your trouble!” + +He looked towards Mary Burke, and saw her vivid face, flushed and +frowning. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Would you have us turn and run +away?” + +“I would that!” said she. “Rather than have ye killed, I would! What’ll +ye 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 I +lose my cars? I tell weigh-boss somebody steal my cars, and he pull gun +on me, and he say, ‘Get the hell off that tipple, you old billy-goat, I +shoot you full of holes!’” + +Among his class-mates at college, Hal had been wont to argue that the +proper way to handle a burglar was to call out to him, saying, “Go +ahead, old chap, and help yourself; there’s nothing here I’m willing to +get shot for.” What was the value of anything a burglar could steal, in +comparison 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 reason +Hal failed even to remember it. He was going ahead, precisely as if a +ton 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 was +right. His was the attitude of the leisure-class person, used to having +his own way; but Mary, though she had a temper too, was pointing the +lesson of self-control. It was the second time to-night that she had +injured his pride. But now he forgave her in his admiration; he had +always known that Mary had a mind and could help him! His admiration was +increased by what John Edstrom was saying--they must do nothing that +would injure the cause of the “big union,” and so they must resolve to +offer 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 the +pain in his injured nose. “You say me stand that?” + +“If you fight back,” said Edstrom, “we’ll all get the worst of it. The +company will say we started the trouble, and put us in the wrong. We’ve +got to make up our mind to rely on moral force.” + +So, after more discussion, it was agreed; every man would keep his +temper--that is, if he could! So they shook hands all round, pledging +themselves 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 and +anxious lot of conspirators. + + + +SECTION 10. + +Hal slept but little that night. Amid the sounds of the snoring of eight +of Reminitsky’s other boarders, he lay going over in his mind various +things which might happen on the morrow. Some of them were far from +pleasant things; he tried to picture himself with a broken nose, or with +tar and feathers on him. He recalled his theory as to the handling of +burglars. The “G. F. C.” was a burglar of gigantic and terrible +proportions; surely this was a time to call out, “Help yourself!” But +instead of doing it, Hal thought about Edstrom’s ants, and wondered at +the power which made them stay in line. + +When morning came, he went up into the mountains, where a man may wander +and renew his moral force. When the sun had descended behind the +mountain-tops, he descended also, and met Edstrom and Sikoria in front +of the company office. + +They nodded a greeting, and Edstrom told Hal that his wife had died +during the day. There being no undertaker in North Valley, he had +arranged for a woman friend to take the body down to Pedro, so that he +might be free for the interview with Cartwright. Hal put his hand on the +old man’s shoulder, but attempted no word of condolence; he saw that +Edstrom 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 a +couple of minutes, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, and +turning their caps in their hands in the familiar manner of the lowly. + +At last Mr. Cartwright appeared in the doorway, his small sparely-built +figure eloquent of sharp authority. “Well, what’s this?” he inquired. + +“If you please,” said Edstrom, “we’d like to speak to you. We’ve +decided, 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 inner +office, 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 we +had 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 to +say so. There was a silence. + +“Now, why do you fellows want to throw away your money?” The +superintendent started to argue with them, showing the absurdity of the +notion that they could gain anything by such a course. The mine had been +running for years on its present system, and there had never been any +complaint. 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! And +so on, for several minutes. + +“Mr. Cartwright,” said Edstrom, when the other had finished, “you know +I’ve worked all my life in mines, and most of it in this district. I am +telling you something I know when I say there is general dissatisfaction +throughout these camps because the men feel they are not getting their +weight. You say there has been no public complaint; you understand the +reason for this--” + +“What is the reason?” + +“Well,” said Edstrom, gently, “maybe you don’t know the reason--but +anyway we’ve decided that we want a check-weighman.” + +It was evident that the superintendent had been taken by surprise, and +was uncertain how to meet the issue. “You can imagine,” he said, at +last, “the company doesn’t relish hearing that its men believe it’s +cheating them--” + +“We don’t say the company knows anything about it, Mr. Cartwright. It’s +possible that some people may be taking advantage of us, without either +the company or yourself having anything to do with it. It’s for your +protection as well as ours that a check-weighman is needed.” + +“Thank you,” said the other, drily. His tone revealed that he was +holding himself in by an effort. “Very well,” he added, at last. “That’s +enough about the matter, if your minds are made up. I’ll give you my +decision later.” + +This was a dismissal, and Mike Sikoria turned humbly, and started to the +door. But Edstrom was one of the ants that did not readily “step one +side”; and Mike took a glance at him, and then stepped back into line in +a 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’re +ready 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 what +the company thinks about it!” + +“It’s not that, Mr. Cartwright, but we don’t see anything for the +company 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 not +have the least objection to the men making sure of their weights, if +they really think it’s necessary. The company has always been willing to +do 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 be +prepared to let the check-weighman begin work, Mr. Cartwright?” asked +Hal. + +The superintendent gave him a sharp look, and again it could be seen +that he made a strong effort to keep his temper. “I’m not prepared to +say,” 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 something +into the action that was a command. + +“Mr. Cartwright,” said Hal, “there’s no law against our having a +check-weighman, is there?” + +The look which these words drew from the superintendent showed that he +knew 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 as +their check-weighman, and this committee has duly notified the company. +That makes me a check-weighman, I believe, Mr. Cartwright, and so all I +have to do is to assume my duties.” Without waiting for the +superintendent’s answer, he walked to the door, followed by his somewhat +shocked companions. + + + +SECTION 11. + +At the meeting on the night before it had been agreed to spread the news +of the check-weighman movement, for the sake of its propaganda value. So +now when the three men came out from the office, there was a crowd +waiting to know what had happened; men clamoured questions, and each one +who got the story would be surrounded by others eager to hear. Hal made +his way to the boarding-house, and when he had finished his supper, he +set out from place to place in the camp, telling the men about the +check-weighman plan and explaining that it was a legal right they were +demanding. All this while Old Mike stayed on one side of him, and +Edstrom on the other; for Tom Olson had insisted strenuously that Hal +should not be left alone for a moment. Evidently the bosses had given +the same order; for when Hal came out from Reminitsky’s, there was +“Jake” Predovich, the store-clerk, on the fringe of the crowd, and he +followed wherever Hal went, doubtless making note of every one he spoke +to. + +They consulted as to where they were to spend the night. Old Mike was +nervous, taking the activities of the spy to mean that they were to be +thugged 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? They +would fix up some story; the world outside would believe they had been +killed in a drunken row, perhaps over some woman. This last suggestion +especially troubled Hal; he thought of the people at home. No, he must +not sleep in the village! And on the other hand he could not go down the +canyon, for if he once passed the gate, he might not be allowed to +repass it. + +An idea occurred to him. Why not go _up_ the canyon? There was no +stockade at the upper end of the village--nothing but wilderness and +rocks, 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 having +somebody 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 went +back 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 his +support to this suggestion; so they got their blankets and stumbled up +the canyon in the still, star-lit night. For a while they heard the spy +behind them, but finally his footsteps died away, and after they had +moved 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 adventure +to sleep out as the game! + +At dawn they rose, and shook the dew from their blankets, and wiped it +from their eyes. Hal was young, and saw the glory of the morning, while +poor Mike Sikoria groaned and grumbled over his stiff and aged joints. +He thought he had ruined himself forever, but he took courage at +Edstrom’s mention of coffee, and they hurried down to breakfast at their +boarding-house. + +Now came a critical time, when Hal had to be left by himself. Edstrom +was obliged to go down to see to his wife’s funeral; and it was obvious +that if Mike Sikoria were to lay off work, he would be providing the +boss with an excuse for firing him. The law which provided for a +check-weighman had failed to provide for a check-weighman’s body-guard! + +Hal had announced his programme in that flash of defiance in +Cartwright’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 as +check-weighman.” + +The tipple-boss was a man with a big black moustache, which made him +look like the pictures of Nietzsche. He stared at Hal, frankly +dumbfounded. “What the devil?” said he. + +“Some of the men have chosen me check-weighman,” explained Hal, in a +business-like manner. “When their cars come up, I’ll see to their +weights.” + +“You keep off this tipple, young fellow!” said Peters. His manner was +equally 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 there +as anywhere. Some of the men grinned and winked at him as they went +about their work; several found a chance to whisper words of +encouragement. And all morning he sat, like a protestant at the +palace-gates of a mandarin in China, It was tedious work, but he +believed 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, a +younger brother of the “J. P.,” and Jeff Cotton’s assistant. Bud was +stocky, red-faced, and reputed to be handy with his fists. So Hal rose +up 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 Joe +Smith. 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 Bud +stood struggling with his human impulses, while Hal watched him +cautiously. But apparently those who had sent the messenger had given +him precise instructions; for he controlled his wrath, and turned and +strode away. + +Hal continued his vigil. He had his lunch with him; and was prepared to +eat alone--understanding the risk that a man would be running who showed +sympathy with him. He was surprised, therefore, when Johannson, the +giant Swede, came and sat down by his side. There also came a young +Mexican 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 and +beckoned to him. “Come here, you!” And Hal went in. + +The “weigh-room” was a fairly open place; but at one side was a door +into 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 was +his only protection. + +The tipple-boss went back into the office; and a minute later Hal saw +what had been intended. The door opened and Alec Stone came out. + +He stood for a moment looking at his political henchman. Then he came +up. “Kid,” he said, in a low voice, “you’re overdoing this. I didn’t +intend 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 you +expect 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 what +you’re up against. You ain’t going to get away with it, you know; get +that through your head--you ain’t going to get away with it. You’d +better 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 we +put ’em out. We know how to do it, we’ve got the machinery. It’ll all be +forgotten 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. “I +understand 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 all +right. They’ll be satisfied, and you and me can fix it up later.” + +“Mr. Stone,” said Hal, with intense gravity, “am I correct in the +impression that you are offering me a bribe?” + +In a flash, the man’s self-control vanished. He thrust his huge fist +within an inch of Hal’s nose, and uttered a foul oath. But Hal did not +remove his nose from the danger-zone, and over the fist a pair of angry +brown eyes gazed at the pit-boss. “Mr. Stone, you had better realise +this situation. I am in dead earnest about this matter, and I don’t +think it will be safe for you to offer me violence.” + +For a moment or two the man continued to glare at Hal; but it appeared +that he, like Bud Adams, had been given instructions. He turned abruptly +and strode back into the office. + +Hal stood for a bit, until he had made sure of his composure. After +which he strolled over towards the scales. A difficulty had occurred to +him for the first time--that he did not know anything about the working +of coal-scales. + +But he was given no time to learn. The tipple-boss reappeared. “Get out +of 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 Hal +and hear what had happened. Mike was exultant, for several new men had +come up to him and offered to join the check-weighman movement. The old +fellow was not sure whether this was owing to his own eloquence as a +propagandist, or to the fine young American buddy he had; but in either +case he was equally proud. He gave Hal a note which had been slipped +into his hand, and which Hal recognised as coming from Tom Olson. The +organiser reported that every one in the camp was talking +check-weighman, and so from a propaganda standpoint they could count +their move a success, no matter what the bosses might do. He added that +Hal should have a number of men stay with him that night, so as to have +witnesses if the company tried to “pull off anything.” “And be careful +of 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 of +them were keen for sleeping out again--the old Slovak because of his +bones, and Hal because he saw there were now several spies following +them about. At Reminitsky’s, he spoke to some of those who had offered +their support, and asked them if they would be willing to spend the +night with him in Edstrom’s cabin. Not one shrank from this test of +sincerity; they all got their blankets, and repaired to the place, where +Hal lighted the lamp and held an impromptu check-weighman meeting--and +incidentally entertained himself with a spy-hunt! + +One of the new-comers was a Pole named Wojecicowski; this, on top of +Zamierowski, caused Hal to give up all effort to call the Poles by their +names. “Woji” was an earnest little man, with a pathetic, tired face. He +explained his presence by the statement that he was sick of being +robbed; he would pay his share for a check-weighman, and if they fired +him, all right, he would move on, and to hell with them. After which +declaration he rolled up in a blanket and went to snoring on the floor +of the cabin. That did not seem to be exactly the conduct of a spy. + +Another was an Italian, named Farenzena; a dark-browed and +sinister-looking fellow, who might have served as a villain in any +melodrama. He sat against the wall and talked in guttural tones, and Hal +regarded him with deep suspicion. It was not easy to understand his +English, but finally Hal managed to make out the story he was +telling--that he was in love with a “fanciulla,” and that the +“fanciulla” was playing with him. He had about made up his mind that she +was a coquette, and not worth bothering with, so he did not care any +curses 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 had +sat with Hal at lunch-time, and had given his name as Apostolikas. He +entered into fluent conversation with Hal, explaining how much +interested he was in the check-weighman plan; he wanted to know just +what they were going to do, what chance of success they thought they +had, who had started the movement and who was in it. Hal’s replies took +the form of little sermons on working-class solidarity. Each time the +man would start to “pump” him, Hal would explain the importance of the +present issue to the miners, how they must stand by one another and make +sacrifices for the good of all. After he had talked abstract theories +for 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 dreadful +things that honest workingmen would do to them. When finally the Greek +grew tired again, and lay down on the floor, Hal moved over to Old Mike +and 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 for +a couple of hours, when he became aware that some one was moving in the +room. There was a lamp burning dimly, and through half-closed eyes he +made out one of the men lifting himself to a sitting position. At first +he could not be sure which one it was, but finally he recognised the +Greek. + +Hal lay motionless, and after a minute or so he stole another look and +saw the man crouching and listening, his hands still on the floor. +Through half opened eye-lids Hal continued to steal glimpses, while the +other rose and tip-toed towards him, stepping carefully over the +sleeping 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 the +possibilities of the situation. He took the chance, however; and after +what 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 to +travel to other pockets. But after what seemed an interminable period, +he realised that Apostolikas had risen again, and was stepping back to +his place. In a minute more he had lain down, and all was still in the +cabin. + +Hal’s hand moved to the pocket, and his fingers slid inside. They +touched something, which he recognised instantly as a roll of bills. + +“I see!” thought he. “A frame-up!” And he laughed to himself, his mind +going back to early boyhood--to a dilapidated trunk in the attic of his +home, containing story-books that his father had owned. He could see +them now, with their worn brown covers and crude pictures: “The Luck and +Pluck 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 the +city, and meets the villain who robs his employer’s cash-drawer and +drops the key of it into the hero’s pocket! Evidently some one connected +with the General Fuel Company had read Horatio Alger! + +Hal realised that he could not be too quick about getting those bills +out of his pocket. He thought of returning them to “Judas,” but decided +that he would save them for Edstrom, who was likely to need money before +long. He gave the Greek half an hour to go to sleep, then with his +pocket-knife he gently picked out a hole in the cinders of the floor and +buried the money as best he could. After which he wormed his way to +another place, and lay thinking. + + + +SECTION 15. + +Would they wait until morning, or would they come soon? He was inclined +to the latter guess, so he was only slightly startled when, an hour or +two later, he heard the knob of the cabin-door turned. A moment later +came a crash and the door was burst open, with the shoulder of a heavy +man behind it. + +The room was in confusion in a second. Men sprang to their feet, crying +out; others sat up bewildered, still half asleep. The room was bright +from an electric torch in the hands of one of the invaders. “There’s the +fellow!” cried a voice, which Hal instantly recognised as belonging to +Jeff 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 benefit +of the other men, it was necessary to give them time to get thoroughly +awake, and to get their eyes used to the light. Meantime Hal stood, his +hands in the air. Behind the torch he could make out the faces of the +marshal, Bud Adams, Alec Stone, Jake Predovich, and two or three others. + +“Now, men,” said Cotton, at last, “you are some of the fellows that want +a 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. Stone +here 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 the +marshal. + +“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. I +think 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 my +pockets.” And then to Old Mike, who had started angrily forward, “It’s +all right, Mike! Let them alone!” + +“Jake, take off your coat,” ordered Cotton. “Roll up your sleeves. Show +your hands.” + +It was for all the world like the performance of a prestidigitator. The +little 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, like +a 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 back +from him there!” This last to Mike Sikoria and the other spectators, who +were pressing nearer, peering over one another’s shoulders. + +It was all very serious at the time, but afterwards, when Hal recalled +the scene, he laughed over the grotesque figure of Predovich searching +his pockets while keeping as far away from him as possible, so that +every one might know that the money had actually come out of Hal’s +pocket. The searcher put his hands first in the inside pockets, then in +the pockets of Hal’s shirt. Time was needed to build up this climax! + +“Turn around,” commanded Cotton; and Hal turned, and the Jew went +through his trouser-pockets. He took out in turn Hal’s watch, his comb +and mirror, his handkerchief; after examining them and holding them up, +he dropped them onto the floor. There was a breathless hush when he came +to Hal’s purse, and proceeded to open it. Thanks to the greed of the +company, there was nothing in the purse but some small change. Predovich +closed it and dropped it to the floor. + +“Wait now! He’s not through!” cried the master of ceremonies. “He’s got +that 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 coat +pocket and then into the other. + +He took his hand out again, and the look of dismay upon his face was so +obvious that Hal could hardly keep from laughing. “It ain’t dere!” he +declared. + +“What?” cried Cotton, and they stared at each other. “By God, he’s got +rid of it!” + +“There’s no money on me, boys!” proclaimed Hal. “It’s a job they are +trying to put over on us.” + +“He’s hid it!” shouted the marshal. “Find it, Jake!” + +Then Predovich began to search again, swiftly, and with less +circumstance. He was not thinking so much about the spectators now, as +about all that good money gone for nothing! He made Hal take off his +coat, and ripped open the lining; he unbuttoned the trousers and felt +inside; he thrust his fingers down inside Hal’s shoes. + +But there was no money, and the searchers were at a standstill. “He took +twenty-five dollars from Mr. Stone to sell you out!” declared the +marshal. “He’s managed to get rid of it somehow.” + +“Boys,” cried Hal, “they sent a spy in here, and told him to put money +on me.” He was looking at Apostolikas as he spoke; he saw the man start +and shrink back. + +“That’s him! He’s a scab!” cried Old Mike. “He’s got the money on him, I +bet!” And he made a move towards the Greek. + +So the camp-marshal realised suddenly that it was time to ring down the +curtain 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 had +seized Hal’s wrists, and a third had grabbed him by the collar of his +shirt. Before the miners had time to realise what was happening, they +had rushed their prisoner out of the cabin. + +The quarter of an hour which followed was an uncomfortable one for the +would-be check-weighman. Outside, in the darkness, the camp-marshal was +free to give vent to his rage, and so was Alec Stone. They poured out +curses upon him, and kicked him and cuffed him as they went along. One +of the men who held his wrists twisted his arm, until he cried out with +pain; then they cursed him harder, and bade him hold his mouth. Down the +dark and silent street they went swiftly, and into the camp-marshal’s +office, and upstairs to the room which served as the North Valley jail. +Hal was glad enough when they left him here, slamming the iron door +behind them. + + + +SECTION 16. + +It had been a crude and stupid plot, yet Hal realised that it was +adapted to the intelligence of the men for whom it was intended. But for +the accident that he had stayed awake, they would have found the money +on him, and next morning the whole camp would have heard that he had +sold out. Of course his immediate friends, the members of the committee, +would not have believed it; but the mass of the workers would have +believed it, and so the purpose of Tom Olson’s visit to North Valley +would have been balked. Throughout the experiences which were to come to +him, Hal retained his vivid impression of that adventure; it served to +him as a symbol of many things. Just as the bosses had tried to bedevil +him, to destroy his influence with his followers, so later on he saw +them trying to bedevil the labour-movement, to confuse the intelligence +of the whole country. + +Now Hal was in jail. He went to the window and tried the bars--but found +that they had been made for such trials. Then he groped his way about in +the darkness, examining his prison, which proved to be a steel cage +built inside the walls of an ordinary room. In one corner was a bench, +and in another corner another bench, somewhat broader, with a mattress +upon it. Hal had read a little about jails--enough to cause him to avoid +this mattress. He sat upon the bare bench, and began to think. + +It is a fact that there is a peculiar psychology incidental to being in +jail; just as there is a peculiar psychology incidental to straining +your back and breaking your hands loading coal-cars in a five foot vein; +and another, and quite different psychology, produced by living at ease +off the labours of coal-miners. In a jail, you have first of all the +sense of being an animal; the animal side of your being is emphasised, +the animal passions of hatred and fear are called into prominence, and +if you are to escape being dominated by them, it can only be by intense +and concentrated effort of the mind. So, if you are a thinking man, you +do a great deal of thinking in a jail; the days are long, and the nights +still longer--you have time for all the thoughts you can have. + +The bench was hard, and seemed to grow harder. There was no position in +which it could be made to grow soft. Hal got up and paced about, then he +lay down for a while, then got up and walked again; and all the while he +thought, and all the while the jail-psychology was being impressed upon +his mind. + +First, he thought about his immediate problem. What were they going to +do to him? The obvious thing would be to put him out of camp, and so be +done with him; but would they rest content with that, in their +irritation at the trick he had played? Hal had heard vaguely of that +native American institution, the “third degree,” but had never had +occasion to think of it as a possibility in his own life. What a +difference it made, to think of it in that way! + +Hal had told Tom Olson that he would not pledge himself to organise a +union, but that he would pledge himself to get a check-weighman; and +Olson had laughed, and seemed quite content--apparently assuming that it +would come to the same thing. And now, it rather seemed that Olson had +known what he was talking about. For Hal found his thoughts no longer +troubled with fears of labour union domination and walking delegate +tyranny; on the contrary, he became suddenly willing for the people of +North 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 an +experience common among reformers; many of whom begin as mild and +benevolent advocates of some obvious bit of justice, and under the +operation of the jail-psychology are made into blazing and determined +revolutionists. “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 in +Chillon, so it seemed to be in North Valley. Dawn came, and Hal stood at +the window of his cell, and heard the whistle blow and saw the workers +going to their tasks, the toil-bent, pallid faced creatures of the +underworld, like a file of baboons in the half-light. He waved his hand +to them, and they stopped and stared, and then waved back; he realised +that every one of those men must be thinking about his imprisonment, and +the reason for it--and so the jail-psychology was being communicated to +them. If any of them cherished distrust of unions, or doubt of the need +of organisation in North Valley--that distrust and that doubt were being +dissipated! + +--There was only one thing discouraging about the matter, as Hal thought +it over. Why should the bosses have left him here in plain sight, when +they might so easily have put him into an automobile, and whisked him +down to Pedro before daylight? Was it a sign of the contempt they felt +for their slaves? Did they count upon the sight of the prisoner in the +window to produce fear instead of resentment? And might it not be that +they understood their workers better than the would-be check-weighman? +He recalled Mary Burke’s pessimism about them, and anxiety gnawed at his +soul; and--such is the operation of the jail-psychology--he fought +against this anxiety. He hated the company for its cynicism, he clenched +his hands and set his teeth, desiring to teach the bosses a lesson, to +prove to them that their workers were not slaves, but men! + + + +SECTION 17. + +Toward the middle of the morning, Hal heard footsteps in the corridor +outside, and a man whom he did not know opened the barred door and set +down a pitcher of water and a tin plate with a hunk of bread on it. When +he 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 what +is the charge against me.” + +“Go to blazes!” said the other, and slammed the door and went down the +corridor. + +Hal went to the window again, and passed the time watching the people +who went by. Groups of ragged children gathered, looking up at him, +grinning and making signs--until some one appeared below and ordered +them 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 for +more. + +The day dragged by; and late in the afternoon the keeper came again, +with another hunk of bread and another pitcher of water. “Listen a +moment,” 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--I +forget where, but it was written by some doctor--that white bread does +not 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’d +choose to live on.” + +“What would yer choose?” + +The tone suggested that the question was a rhetorical one; but Hal took +it 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 the +rest 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 the +groups of his friends once again, and got their covert signals of +encouragement. Then darkness fell, and another long vigil began. + +It was late; Hal had no means of telling how late, save that all the +lights in the camps were out. He made up his mind that he was in for the +night, 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 sound +against the bars of his window. He sat up with a start, and heard +another sound, unmistakably the rustling of paper. He sprang to the +window, where by the faint light of the stars he could make out +something dangling. He caught at it; it seemed to be an ordinary +note-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 and +jerked it, as a signal; and then he heard a whisper which he recognised +instantly as Rovetta’s. “Hello! Listen. Write your name hundred times in +book. I come back. Understand?” + +The command was a sufficiently puzzling one, but Hal realised that this +was no time for explanations. He answered, “Yes,” and broke the string +and took the notebook. There was a pencil attached, with a piece of +cloth 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 is +not hard to write “Joe Smith,” even in darkness, and so, while his hand +moved, Hal’s mind was busy with this mystery. It was fairly to be +assumed that his committee did not want his autograph to distribute for +a souvenir; they must want it for some vital purpose, to meet some new +move 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 had +framed up a letter, which they were exhibiting as having been written by +the would-be check-weigh-man. His friends wanted his signature to +disprove the authenticity of the letter. + +Hal wrote a free and rapid hand, with a generous flourish; he felt sure +it 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 the +camp, 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 up +the street, after which all was quiet again. He listened for a while, to +see if he had roused his jailer; then he lay down on the bench--and +thought more jail-thoughts! + + + +SECTION 18. + +Morning came, and the mine-whistle blew, and Hal stood at the window +again. This time he noticed that some of the miners on their way to work +had little strips of paper in their hands, which strips they waved +conspicuously for him to see. Old Mike Sikoria came along, having a +whole bunch of strips in his hands, which he was distributing to all who +would take them. Doubtless he had been warned to proceed secretly, but +the excitement of the occasion had been too much for him; he capered +about like a young spring lamb, and waved the strips at Hal in plain +sight of all the world. + +Such indiscreet behaviour met the return it invited. As Hal watched, he +saw a stocky figure come striding round the corner, confronting the +startled old Slovak. It was Bud Adams, the mine-guard, and his hard +fists were clenched, and his whole body gathered for a blow. Mike saw +him, and was as if suddenly struck with paralysis; his toil-bent +shoulders sunk together, and his hands fell to his sides--his fingers +opening, and his precious strips of paper fluttering to the ground. Mike +stared at Bud like a fascinated rabbit, making no move to protect +himself. + +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 himself +with glaring ferociously, and giving an order to the old man. Mike +stooped and picked up the papers--the process taking him some time, as +he was unable or unwilling to take his eyes off the mine-guard’s. When +he got them all in his hands, there came another order, and he gave them +up to Bud. After which he fell back a step, and the other followed, his +fists still clenched, and a blow seeming about to leap from him every +moment. Mike receded another step, and then another--so the two of them +backed out of sight around the corner. Men who had been witnesses of +this little drama turned and slunk off, and Hal was given no clue as to +its outcome. + +A couple of hours afterwards, Hal’s jailer came up, this time without +any 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 was +writing, and he went on writing until the jailer had gone out and closed +the 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. The +camp-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, tell +me, 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 would +do much good to explain. I doubt if you believe in altruism any more +than Stone does.” + +The camp-marshal took his cigar from his mouth, and flicked off the +ashes. His face became serious, and there was a silence, while he +studied 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 paying +you?” + +“There you are! You don’t believe in altruism.” + +The other blew a ring of smoke across the room. “Just want to put the +company 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 going +to 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 the +satisfaction of putting the company in a hole. We’re not even going to +beat you up and make a martyr of you. I was tempted to do that the other +night, but I changed my mind.” + +“You might change the bruises on my arm,” suggested Hal, in a pleasant +voice. + +“We’re going to offer you the choice of two things,” continued the +marshal, without heeding this mild sarcasm. “Either you will sign a +paper 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 prove +that you took it, in which case we will send you to the pen for five or +ten years. Do you get that?” + +Now when Hal had applied for the job of check-weighman, he had been +expecting to be thrown out of the camp, and had intended to go, counting +his education complete. But here, as he sat and gazed into the marshal’s +menacing eyes, he decided suddenly that he did not want to leave North +Valley. 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 do +things 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 the +charge be?” + +“I’m not sure about that--we’ll put it up to our lawyers. Maybe they’ll +call it conspiracy, maybe blackmail. They’ll make it whatever carries a +long enough sentence.” + +“And before I enter my plea, would you mind letting me see the letter +I’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 of +paper and handed it to Hal, who read: + +“Dere mister Stone, You don’t need worry about the check-wayman. Pay me +twenty five dollars, and I will fix it right. Yours try, Joe Smith.” + +Having taken in the words of the letter, Hal examined the paper, and +perceived that his enemies had taken the trouble, not merely to forge a +letter in his name, but to have it photographed, to have a cut made of +the photograph, and to have it printed. Beyond doubt they had +distributed it broadcast in the camp. And all this in a few hours! It +was 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 a +bit 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 legal +department is equally efficient.” + +“Well,” said Hal, “they’ll need to be; for I don’t see how you can get +round 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 well +forget 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-service +department!” + +“And who else?” + +“John Edstrom has gone down to bury his wife. It’s not the first time +that dough-faced old preacher has made trouble for us, but it’ll be the +last. You’ll find him in Pedro--probably in the poor-house.” + +“No,” responded Hal, quickly--and there came just a touch of elation in +his voice--“he won’t have to go to the poor-house at once. You see, I’ve +just sent twenty-five dollars to him.” + +The camp-marshal frowned. “Really!” Then, after a pause, “You _did_ have +that 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 been +getting short weight for years, so he was the one person with any right +to the money.” + +This story was untrue, of course; the money was still buried in +Edstrom’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 it +before you’re through. It only makes me more determined to put you where +you can’t do us any harm.” + +“You mean in the pen? You understand, of course, it will mean a jury +trial. You can get a jury to do what you want?” + +“They tell me you’ve been taking an interest in politics in Pedro +County. 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 know +them all. You’ll find yourself facing a box with Jake Predovich as +foreman, three company-clerks, two of Alf Raymond’s saloon-keepers, a +ranchman with a mortgage held by the company-bank, and five Mexicans who +have no idea what it’s all about, but would stick a knife into your back +for a drink of whiskey. The District Attorney is a politician who +favours the miners in his speeches, and favours us in his acts; while +Judge Denton, of the district court, is the law partner of Vagleman, our +chief-counsel. Do you get all that?” + +“Yes,” said Hal. “I’ve heard of the ‘Empire of Raymond’; I’m interested +to 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 it +without trouble. All we ask is that you make amends for the mischief +you’ve done us.” + +“By ‘making amends,’ you mean I’m to disgrace myself--to tell the men +I’m a traitor?” + +“Precisely,” said the marshal. + +“I think I’ll have a seat while I consider the matter,” said Hal; and he +took a chair, and stretched out his legs, and made himself elaborately +comfortable. “That bench upstairs is frightfully hard,” said he, and +smiled mockingly upon the camp-marshal. + + + +SECTION 20. + +When this conversation was continued, it was upon a new and unexpected +line. “Cotton,” remarked the prisoner, “I perceive that you are a man of +education. It occurs to me that once upon a time you must have been what +the world calls a gentleman.” + +The blood started into the camp-marshal’s face. “You go to hell!” said +he. + +“I did not intend to ask questions,” continued Hal. “I can well +understand that you mightn’t care to answer them. My point is that, +being an ex-gentleman, you may appreciate certain aspects of this case +which would be beyond the understanding of a nigger-driver like Stone, +or an efficiency expert like Cartwright. One gentleman can recognise +another, even in a miner’s costume. Isn’t that so?” + +Hal paused for an answer, and the marshal gave him a wary look. “I +suppose so,” he said. + +“Well, to begin with, one gentleman does not smoke without inviting +another to join him.” + +The man gave another look. Hal thought he was going to consign him to +hades once more; but instead he took a cigar from his vest-pocket and +held it out. + +“No, thank you,” said Hal, quietly. “I do not smoke. But I like to be +invited.” + +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 the +bench, your hand-picked prosecuting-attorney putting through the job; +you are ready to send your victim to prison, for an example to the rest +of your employés. But suppose that, at the climax of the proceedings, +you should make the discovery that your victim is a person who cannot be +sent 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, there +are people who cannot be sent to prison?” + +The camp-marshal smoked his cigar for a bit. “There are some in this +county,” said he. “But I thought I knew them all.” + +“Well,” said Hal, “has it never occurred to you that there might be some +in this _state_?” + +There followed a long silence. The two men were gazing into each other’s +eyes; and the more they gazed, the more plainly Hal read uncertainty in +the face of the marshal. + +“Think how embarrassing it would be!” he continued. “You have your drama +all 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, you +have convicted yourself before the public of the state. You have shown +the whole community that you are law-breakers; worse than that--you have +shown that you are jack-asses!” + +This time the camp-marshal gazed so long that his cigar went out. And +meantime Hal was lounging in his chair, smiling at him strangely. It was +as if a transformation was taking place before the marshal’s eyes; the +miner’s “jumpers” fell away from Hal’s figure, and there was a suit of +evening-clothes in their place! + +“Who the devil are you?” cried the man. + +“Well now!” laughed Hal. “You boast of the efficiency of your secret +service department! Put them at work upon this problem. A young man, age +twenty-one, height five feet ten inches, weight one hundred and +fifty-two pounds, eyes brown, hair chestnut and rather wavy, manner +genial, a favourite with the ladies--at least that’s what the society +notes say--missing since early in June, supposed to be hunting +mountain-goats in Mexico. As you know, Cotton, there’s only one city in +the state that has any ‘society,’ and in that city there are only +twenty-five or thirty families that count. For a secret service +department like that of the ‘G. F. C.’, that is really too easy.” + +Again there was a silence, until Hal broke it. “Your distress is a +tribute to your insight. The company is lucky in the fact that one of +its camp-marshals happens to be an ex-gentleman.” + +Again the other flushed. “Well, by God!” he said, half to himself; and +then, making a last effort to hold his bluff--“You’re kidding me!” + +“‘Kidding,’ as you call it, is one of the favourite occupations of +society, Cotton. A good part of our intercourse consists of it--at least +among the younger set.” + +Suddenly the marshal rose. “Say,” he demanded, “would you mind going +back upstairs for a few minutes?” + +Hal could not restrain his laughter at this. “I should mind it very +much,” he said. “I have been on a bread and water diet for thirty-six +hours, and I should like very much to get out and have a breath of fresh +air.” + +“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’s +your look-out. You’ve kept me here without legal authority, with no +charge against me, and without giving me an opportunity to see counsel. +Unless I’m very much mistaken, you are liable criminally for that, and +the company is liable civilly. That is your own affair, of course. I +only 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 extinct +cigar. Then he went to the door. “Hey, Gus!” he called. Hal’s jailer +appeared, and Cotton whispered to him, and he went away again. “I’m +telling him to get you some food, and you can sit and eat it here. Will +that suit you better?” + +“It depends,” said Hal, making the most of the situation. “Are you +inviting 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 my +lawyers.” + +“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 of +business. You can look for me at the tipple, Cotton!” + + + +SECTION 21. + +The marshal went out, and a few moments later the jailer came back, with +a meal which presented a surprising contrast to the ones he had +previously served. There was a tray containing cold ham, a couple of +soft boiled eggs, some potato salad, and a cup of coffee with rolls and +butter. + +“Well, well!” said Hal, condescendingly. “That’s even nicer than +beefsteak and mashed potatoes!” He sat and watched, not offering to +help, while the other made room for the tray on the table in front of +him. Then the man stalked out, and Hal began to eat. + +Before he had finished, the camp-marshal returned. He seated himself in +his revolving chair, and appeared to be meditative. Between bites, Hal +would look up and smile at him. + +“Cotton,” said he, “you know there is no more certain test of breeding +than table-manners. You will observe that I have not tucked my napkin in +my 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 has +overlooked the finger-bowl,” he remarked. “However, don’t bother. You +might 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, night +before 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 the +camp-marshal grinned. “Clear out, Gus, and shut the door,” said he. + +Then Hal stretched his legs and made himself comfortable again. “I must +say 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 been +giving me, but it’s evident enough that you’re no miner. You may be some +newfangled kind of agitator, but I’m damned if I ever saw an agitator +that 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 I +can imagine.” + +“Tell me, Cotton,” said Hal, “did you never hear of _ennui_?” + +“Yes,” replied the other, “but aren’t you rather young to be troubled +with that complaint?” + +“Suppose I’ve seen others suffering from it, and wanted to try a +different 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, he +chanted: + + “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. “Are +there 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 their +theories to us. But somehow the theories didn’t seem to correspond with +the facts. I said to myself, ‘I’ve got to check them up.’ You know the +phrases, perhaps--individualism, _laissez faire_, freedom of contract, +the right of every man to work for whom he pleases. And here you see how +the theories work out--a camp-marshal with a cruel smile on his face and +a gun on his hip, breaking the laws faster than a governor can sign +them.” + +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’t +mind, 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 +jaunty grace that was out of keeping with his occupation. He was a +handsome devil, Hal thought--in spite of his dangerous mouth, and the +marks of dissipation on him. + +“Young man,” he began, with another effort at geniality. “I don’t know +who you are, but you’re wide awake; you’ve got your nerve with you, and +I admire you. So I’m willing to call the thing off, and let you go back +and finish that course at college.” + +Hal had been studying the other’s careful smile. “Cotton,” he said, at +last, “let me get the proposition clear. I don’t have to say I took +that money?” + +“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 bluff +you. All I ask is that you clear out, and give our people a chance to +forget.” + +“But what’s there in that for me, Cotton? If I had wanted to run away, I +could 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 my +consideration.” + +“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. I +don’t care who you are, I don’t care about your threats. I’m the marshal +of this camp, and I have the job of keeping order in it. I say you’re +going to get out!” + +“But, Cotton,” said Hal, “this is an incorporated town! I have a right +to 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 an +automobile and take you down to Pedro!” + +“And suppose I go to the District Attorney and demand that he prosecute +you?” + +“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--I +wonder just how sure you feel. Has it never occurred to you that your +superiors 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 despise +the 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’ll +stand for everything you’ve done.” + +“He will!” said the other. + +“For the way you treat the workers? He knows you are giving short +weights.” + +“Oh hell!” said the other. “Where do you suppose he got the money for +your college?” + +There was a pause; at last the marshal asked, defiantly, “Have you got +what you want?” + +“Yes,” replied Hal. “Of course, I thought it all along, but it’s hard to +convince other people. Old Peter’s not like most of these Western +wolves, 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 you +heard them?” + +“I hadn’t noticed.” + +“They are barking, barking! They are going to wake the shepherds! They +are going to save the sheep!” + +“Religion don’t interest me,” said the other, looking bored; “your kind +any more than Old Peter’s.” + +And suddenly Hal rose to his feet. “Cotton,” said he, “my place is with +the flock! I’m going back to my job at the tipple!” And he started +towards 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 too +far!” And he sprang to the door, just ahead of his prisoner. His hand +moved toward his hip. + +“Draw your gun, Cotton,” said Hal; and, as the marshal obeyed, “Now I +will stop. If I obey you in future, it will be at the point of your +revolver.” + +The marshal’s mouth was dangerous-looking. “You may find that in this +country there’s not so much between the drawing of a gun and the firing +of 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 the +car right away.” + +He hung up the receiver, and there followed a silence; finally Hal +inquired, “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’s +occurred to you that you deprived me of my money last night. Also, I’ve +an account with the company, some money coming to me for my work? What +about 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 the +store; 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 in +scrip. I want it for a souvenir.” + +Still there was silence. + +“You know,” persisted the prisoner, tormentingly, “there’s a law against +paying 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 give +them 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 them +out?” + +The marshal sat in silence, tapping impatiently with his fingers on the +desk. + +“Cotton,” Hal began, again, “I’m out for education, and there’s +something 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 himself +about it?” + +“Young man,” said the marshal, “if you’ll pardon me, you are getting to +be a bore.” + +“Oh, but we’ve got an automobile ride before us! Surely we can’t sit in +silence all the way!” After a moment he added, in a coaxing tone, “I +really 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 you +agitators before, you’re all alike: you think the world is run by +talk--but it isn’t.” + +Hal had come to realise that he was not getting anywhere in his duel +with the camp-marshal. He had made every effort to get somewhere; he had +argued, threatened, bluffed, he had even sung songs for the marshal! But +the 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 the +automobile, and because he had endured indignities and had to vent his +anger and disappointment. But now he stopped quarrelling suddenly. His +attention was caught by the marshal’s words, “You think the world is run +by talk!” Those were the words Hal’s brother always used! And also, the +marshal had said, “You agitators!” For years it had been one of the +taunts Hal had heard from his brother, “You will turn into one of these +agitators!” Hal had answered, with boyish obstinacy, “I don’t care if I +do!” And now, here the marshal was calling him an agitator, seriously, +without an apology, without the license of blood relationship. He +repeated the words, “That’s what gets me about you agitators--you come +in here trying to stir these people up--” + +So that was the way Hal seemed to the “G. F. C.”! He had come here +intending to be a spectator, to stand on the deck of the steamer and +look down into the ocean of social misery. He had considered every step +so carefully before he took it! He had merely tried to be a +check-weighman, nothing more! He had told Tom Olson he would not go in +for unionism; he had had a distrust of union organisers, of agitators of +all sorts--blind, irresponsible persons who went about stirring up +dangerous passions. He had come to admire Tom Olson--but that had only +partly removed his prejudices; Olson was only one agitator, not the +whole 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 a +leisure-class person. In spite of all Hal’s “tea-party manners,” the +marshal had said, “You agitators!” What was he judging by, Hal wondered. +Had he, Hal Warner, come to look like one of these blind, irresponsible +persons? It was time that he took stock of himself! + +Had two months of “dirty work” in the bowels of the earth changed him +so? The idea was bound to be disconcerting to one who had been a +favourite of the ladies! Did he talk like it?--he who had been “kissing +the Blarney-stone!” The marshal had said he was “long-winded!” Well, to +be sure, he had talked a lot; but what could the man expect--having shut +him up in jail for two nights and a day, with only his grievances to +brood over! Was that the way real agitators were made--being shut up +with grievances to brood over? + +Hal recalled his broodings in the jail. He had been embittered; he had +not cared whether North Valley was dominated by labour unions. But that +had all been a mood, the same as his answer to his brother; that was +jail psychology, a part of his summer course in practical sociology. He +had put it aside; but apparently it had made a deeper impression upon +him than he had realised. It had changed his physical aspect! It had +made him look and talk like an agitator! It had made him +“irresponsible,” “blind!” + +Yes, that was it! All this dirt, ignorance, disease, this knavery and +oppression, this maiming of men in body and soul in the coal-camps of +America--all this did not exist--it was the hallucination of an +“irresponsible” brain! There was the evidence of Hal’s brother and the +camp-marshal to prove it; there was the evidence of the whole world to +prove it! The camp-marshal and his brother and the whole world could not +be “blind!” And if you talked to them about these conditions, they +shrugged their shoulders, they called you a “dreamer,” a “crank,” they +said 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 extent +that he could not stay in his chair. All the harassments of his troubled +career 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 they +can, to fill up their cars with slate and rock and blame it on some +other fellow, and go off to fill themselves with booze. They won’t work +fair, they won’t fight fair--they fight with a knife in the back! And +you agitators with your sympathy for them--why the hell do they come to +this country, unless they like it better than their own?” + +Hal had heard this question before; but they had to wait for the +automobile--and being sure that he was an agitator now, he would make +all 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 of +the 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 than +the wages. Then, too, they’re led to think of America as a land of +liberty; they come, hoping for a better chance for themselves and their +children; but they find a camp-marshal who’s off in his geography--who +thinks the Rocky Mountains are somewhere in Russia!” + +“I know that line of talk!” exclaimed the other. “I learned to wave the +starry flag when I was a kid. But I tell you, you’ve got to get coal +mined, and it isn’t the same thing as running a Fourth of July +celebration. Some church people make a law they shan’t work on +Sunday--and what comes of that? They have thirty-six hours to get soused +in, and so they can’t work on Monday!” + +“Surely there’s a remedy, Cotton! Suppose the company refused to rent +buildings to saloon-keepers?” + +“Good God! You think we haven’t tried it? They go down to Pedro for the +stuff, and bring back all they can carry--inside them and out. And if we +stop that--then our hands move to some other camps, where they can spend +their 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 like +Peter Harrigan. If there’s to be any coal, if industry’s to go on, if +there’s to be any progress--” + +“We have that in our song!” laughed Hal, breaking into the +camp-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 chaps +to make verses, while you’re living at ease on the old man’s bounty. But +that don’t answer any argument. Are you college boys ready to take over +his job? Or these Democrat politicians that come in here, talking +fool-talk about liberty, making labour laws for these wops--” + +“I begin to understand,” said Hal. “You object to the politicians who +pass the laws, you doubt their motives--and so you refuse to obey. But +why 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 the +men--a union agitator, or whatever you are--and you know that the first +idea of these people, when they do break loose, is to put dynamite in +the 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-faced +old 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 can +understand their point of view entirely. When they set fire to the +buildings, it was because they thought you and Alec Stone might be +inside.” + +The marshal did not smile. + +“They want to destroy the properties,” continued Hal, “because that’s +the only way they can think of to punish the tyranny and greed of the +owners. But, Cotton, suppose some one were to put a new idea into their +heads; suppose some one were to say to them, ‘Don’t destroy the +properties--_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 the +beginning.” + +“What method is that?” demanded the marshal, with some appearance of +indignation. “He paid the market-price for them, didn’t he?” + +“He paid the market-price for politicians. Up in Western City I happen +to know a lady who was a school-commissioner when he was buying +school-lands from the state--lands that were known to contain coal. He +was paying three dollars an acre, and everybody knew they were worth +three thousand.” + +“Well,” said Cotton, “if you don’t buy the politicians, you wake up some +fine morning and find that somebody else has bought them. If you have +property, you have to protect it.” + +“Cotton,” said Hal, “you sell Old Peter your time--but surely you might +keep part of your brains! Enough to look at your monthly pay-check and +realise that you too are a wage-slave, not much better than the miners +you despise.” + +The other smiled. “My check might be bigger, I admit; but I’ve figured +over it, and I think I have an easier time than you agitators. I’m +top-dog, and I expect to stay on top.” + +“Well, Cotton, on that view of life, I don’t wonder you get drunk now +and then. A dog-fight, with no faith or humanity anywhere! Don’t think +I’m sneering at you--I’m talking out of my heart to you. I’m not so +young, nor such a fool, that I haven’t had the dog-fight aspect of +things brought to my attention. But there’s something in a fellow that +insists he isn’t all dog; he has at least a possibility of something +better. Take these poor under-dogs sweating inside the mountain, risking +their lives every hour of the day and night to provide you and me with +coal 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, yet +when he looked back upon the coincidence, it seemed to him a singular +one. For while he was sitting there chatting, it happened that the poor +under-dogs inside the mountain were in the midst of one of those +experiences which make the romance and terror of coal-mining. One of the +boys who were employed underground, in violation of the child labour +law, was in the act of bungling his task. He was a “spragger,” whose +duty 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 the +attempt. It knocked him against the wall--and so there was a load of +coal rolling down grade, pursued too late by half a dozen men. Gathering +momentum, it whirled round a curve and flew from the track, crashing +into timbers and knocking them loose. With the timbers came a shower of +coal-dust, accumulated for decades in these old workings; and at the +same 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, rather +than heard, a deafening roar; he felt the air about him turn into a +living thing which struck him a mighty blow, hurling him flat upon the +floor. The windows of the room crashed inward upon him in a shower of +glass, and the plaster of the ceiling came down on his head in another +shower. + +When he raised himself, half stunned, he saw the marshal, also on the +floor; these two conversationalists stared at each other with horrified +eyes. Even as they crouched, there came a crash above their heads, and +half the ceiling of the room came toward them, with a great piece of +timber sticking through. All about them were other crashes, as if the +end 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 of +them. 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 the +crashing had ceased. “What is it?” gasped Hal, as they stood. + +“Mine-explosion,” said the other; and after a few seconds they ran to +the door again. + +The first thing they saw was a vast pillar of dust and smoke, rising +into the sky above them. It spread before their dazed eyes, until it +made night of everything about them. There was still a rain of lighter +debris pattering down over the village; as they stared, and got their +wits about them, remembering how things had looked before this, they +realised that the shaft-house of Number One had disappeared. + +“Blown up, by God!” cried the marshal; and the two ran out into the +street, and looking up, saw that a portion of the wrecked building had +fallen through the roof of the jail above their heads. + +The rain of debris had now ceased, but there were clouds of dust which +covered the two men black; the clouds grew worse, until they could +hardly 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 boys +pouring from the breaker; while from every street there appeared a +stream of women; women old, women young--leaving their cooking on the +stove, their babies in the crib, with their older children screaming at +their skirts, they gathered in swarms about the pit-mouth, which was +like 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, the +giant fan lying on the ground a hundred feet away, its blades smashed. +Hal was too inexperienced in mine-matters to get the full significance +of this; but he saw the marshal and the superintendent stare blankly at +each other, and heard the former’s exclamation, “That does for us!” +Cartwright said not a word; but his thin lips were pressed together, +and there 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 +all at once. They swarmed about the marshal, the superintendent, the +other bosses--even about Hal, crying hysterically in Polish and +Bohemian and Greek. When Hal shook his head, indicating that he did not +understand them, they moaned in anguish, or shrieked aloud. Some +continued to stare into the smoking pit-mouth; others covered the sight +from their eyes, or sank down upon their knees, sobbing, praying with +uplifted hands. + +Little by little Hal began to realise the full horror of a +mine-disaster. It was not noise and smoke and darkness, nor frantic, +wailing women; it was not anything above ground, but what was below in +the smoking black pit! It was men! Men whom Hal knew, whom he had +worked with and joked with, whose smiles he had shared; whose daily +life he had come to know! Scores, possibly hundreds of them, they were +down here under 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. He was pushing the women back, exclaiming, “Go away! Go +home!” + +What? Go home? they cried. When their men were in the mine? They crowded +about him closer, imploring, shrieking. + +“Get out!” he kept exclaiming. “There’s nothing you can do! There’s +nothing anybody can do yet! Go home! Go home!” He had to beat them back +by 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 and +fro; on their knees with faces uplifted in prayer; clutching their +terrified children about their skirts. He saw an Austrian woman, a +pitiful, pale young thing with a ragged grey shawl about her head, +stretching out her hands and crying: “Mein Mann! Mein Mann!” Presently +she covered her face, and her voice died into a wail of despair: “O, +mein Mann! O, mein Mann!” She turned away, staggering about like some +creature that has received a death wound. Hal’s eyes followed her; her +cry, repeated over and over incessantly, became the leit-motif of this +symphony of horror. + +He had read about mine-disasters in his morning newspaper; but here a +mine-disaster became a thing of human flesh and blood. The unendurable +part of it was the utter impotence of himself and of all the world. This +impotence became clearer to him each moment--from the exclamations of +Cotton and of the men he questioned. It was monstrous, incredible--but +it was so! They must send for a new fan, they must wait for it to be +brought in, they must set it up and get it into operation; they must +wait for hours after that while smoke and gas were cleared out of the +main passages of the mine; and until this had been done, there was +nothing they could do--absolutely nothing! The men inside the mine would +stay. Those who had not been killed outright would make their way into +the remoter chambers, and barricade themselves against the deadly “after +damp.” They would wait, without food or water, with air of doubtful +quality--they would wait and wait, until the rescue-crew could get to +them! + + + +SECTION 26. + +At moments in the midst of this confusion, Hal found himself trying to +recall who had worked in Number One, among the people he knew. He +himself had been employed in Number Two, so he had naturally come to +know more men in that mine. But he had known some from the other +mine--Old Rafferty for one, and Mary Burke’s father for another, and at +least one of the members of his check-weighman group--Zamierowski. Hal +saw in a sudden vision the face of this patient little man, who smiled +so good-naturedly while Americans were trying to say his name. And Old +Rafferty, with all his little Rafferties, and his piteous efforts to +keep the favour of his employers! And poor Patrick Burke, whom Hal had +never seen sober; doubtless he was sober now, if he was still alive! + +Then in the crowd Hal encountered Jerry Minetti, and learned that +another man who had been down was Farenzena, the Italian whose +“fanciulla” had played with him; and yet another was Judas +Apostolikas--having taken his thirty pieces of silver with him into the +deathtrap! + +People were making up lists, just as Hal was doing, by asking questions +of others. These lists were subject to revision--sometimes under +dramatic circumstances. You saw a woman weeping, with her apron to her +eyes; suddenly she would look up, give a piercing cry, and fling her +arms about the neck of some man. As for Hal, he felt as if he were +encountering a ghost when suddenly he recognised Patrick Burke, standing +in the midst of a group of people. He went over and heard the old man’s +story--how there was a Dago fellow who had stolen his timbers, and he +had come up to the surface for more; so his life had been saved, while +the timber-thief was down there still--a judgment of Providence upon +mine-miscreants! + +Presently Hal asked if Burke had been to tell his family. He had run +home, he said, but there was nobody there. So Hal began pushing his way +through the throngs, looking for Mary, or her sister Jennie, or her +brother Tommie. He persisted in this search, although it occurred to him +to wonder whether the family of a hopeless drunkard would appreciate the +interposition of Providence in his behalf. + +He encountered Olson, who had had a narrow escape, being employed as a +surface-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 many +kinds of disaster. He began to explain things to Hal, in a matter of +fact 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 cost +good money to dig holes in the ground. + +At this time the immediate cause of the explosion was unknown, but they +could tell it was a “dust explosion” by the clouds of coke-dust, and no +one who had been into the mine and seen its dry condition would doubt +what they would find when they went down and traced out the “force” and +its effects. They were supposed to do regular sprinkling, but in such +matters the bosses used their own judgment. + +Hal was only half listening to these explanations. The thing was too raw +and 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 the +emergency! Underneath Olson’s sentences he heard the cry of men and boys +being asphyxiated in dark dungeons--he heard the wailing of women, like +a surf beating on a distant shore, or the faint, persistent +accompaniment of muted strings: “O, mein Mann! O, mein Mann!” + +They came upon Jeff Cotton again. With half a dozen men to help him, he +was pushing back the crowd from the pit-mouth, and stretching barbed +wired to hold them back. He was none too gentle about it, Hal thought; +but doubtless women are provoking when they are hysterical. He was +answering 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 home +and 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 man +might be suffering asphyxiation under the ground? The least she could do +was to stand at the pit-mouth--as near to him as she could get! Some of +them stood motionless, hour after hour, while others wandered through +the village streets, asking the same people, over and over again, if +they had seen their loved ones. Several had turned up, like Patrick +Burke; 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 to +celebrate the favours of Providence. Now Mary was concerned with a +graver matter. Number Two Mine was in danger! The explosion in Number +One 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 fan +had stopped; and when some one had gone to Alec Stone, asking that he +bring out the men, Stone had refused. “What do ye think he said?” cried +Mary. “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 in +the 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 what +it 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 that +story. “How do you know it, Mary?” + +“Young Rovetta just told me. He was there, and heard it with his own +ears.” + +He was staring at her. “Let’s go and make sure,” he said, and they +started up the main street of the village. On the way they were joined +by others--for already the news of this fresh trouble had begun to +spread. 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 be +done!” + +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 warn +the men themselves. And here was the camp-marshal driving them back. Hal +and Mary arrived in time to see Mrs. David, whose husband was at work in +Number Two, shaking her fist in the marshal’s face and screaming at him +like a wild-cat. He drew his revolver upon her; and at this Hal started +forward. A blind fury seized him--he would have thrown himself upon the +marshal. + +But Mary Burke stopped him, flinging her arms about him, and pinning him +by main force. “No, no!” she cried. “Stay back, man! D’ye want to get +killed?” + +He was amazed at her strength. He was amazed also at the vehemence of +her emotion. She was calling him a crazy fool, and names even more +harsh. “Have ye no more sense than a woman? Running into the mouth of a +revolver like that!” + +The crisis passed in a moment, for Mrs. David fell back, and then the +marshal put up his weapon. But Mary continued scolding Hal, trying to +drag 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 know +it. I’ll not let ye get yeself murdered! Come away now!” And half by +force and half by cajoling, she got him farther down the street. + +He was trying to think out the situation. Were the men in Number Two +really in danger? Could it be possible that the bosses would take such a +chance in cold blood? And right at this moment, with the disaster in the +other mine before their eyes! He could not believe it; and meantime +Mary, at his side, was declaring that the men were in no real danger--it +was only Alec Stone’s brutal words that had set her crazy. + +“Don’t ye remember the time when the air-course was blocked before, and +ye 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 let +her lead him on, while he tried to think of something else to do. He +would think of the men in Number Two; they were his best friends, Jack +David, Tim Rafferty, Wresmak, Androkulos, Klowoski. He would think of +them, in their remote dungeons--breathing bad air, becoming sick and +faint--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 his +best bluff to Jeff Cotton a few hours earlier, and the answer had been +the muzzle of the marshal’s revolver in his face. All he could +accomplish now would be to bring himself to Cotton’s attention, and be +thrust 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 funny +stories. Mrs. Zamboni had had a new baby every year for sixteen years, +and eleven of these babies were still alive. Now her husband was trapped +in Number One, and she was distracted, wandering about the streets with +the greater part of her brood at her heels. At intervals she would emit +a howl like a tortured animal, and her brood would take it up in various +timbres. Hal stopped to listen to the sounds, but Mary put her fingers +into her ears and fled into the house. Hal followed her, and saw her +fling herself into a chair and burst into hysterical weeping. And +suddenly Hal realised what a strain this terrible affair had been upon +Mary. It had been bad enough to him--but he was a man, and more able to +contemplate sights of horror. Men went to their deaths in industry and +war, 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 in +pain, nursed them and reared them with endless patience--women could +never become inured to the spectacle! Then too, the women’s fate was +worse. If the men were dead, that was the end of them; but the women +must face the future, with its bitter memories, its lonely and desolate +struggle for existence. The women must see the children suffering, dying +by slow stages of deprivation. + +Hal’s pity for all suffering women became concentrated upon the girl +beside him. He knew how tenderhearted she was. She had no man in the +mine, but some day she would have, and she was suffering the pangs of +that inexorable future. He looked at her, huddled in her chair, wiping +away her tears with the hem of her old blue calico. She seemed +unspeakably pathetic--like a child that has been hurt. She was sobbing +out sentences now and then, as if to herself: “Oh, the poor women, the +poor women! Did ye see the face of Mrs. Jonotch? She’d jumped into the +smoking 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 no +experience with hysteria, stood helplessly by. + +“There’s more misery than I ever knew there was!” she went on. “’Tis +everywhere ye turn, a woman with her eyes burnin’ with suffering +wondering if she’ll ever see her man again! Or some mother whose lad may +be dying and she can do nothin’ for him!” + +“And neither can you do anything, Mary,” Hal pleaded again. “You’re only +sorrowing yourself to death.” + +“Ye say that to me?” she cried. “And when ye were ready to let Jeff +Cotton shoot ye, because you were so sorry for Mrs. David! No, the +sights here nobody can stand.” + +He could think of nothing to answer. He drew up a chair and sat by her +in silence, and after a while she began to grow calmer, and wiped away +her tears, and sat gazing dully through the doorway into the dirty +little 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 sticks +into a dump-heap--looking for something to eat, perhaps, or for +something 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 a +scene!--And this girl’s eyes had never a sight of anything more +inspiring than this. Day in and day out, all her life long, she looked +at this scene! Had he ever for a moment reproached her for her “black +moods”? With such an environment could men or women be cheerful--could +they dream of beauty, aspire to heights of nobility and courage, to +happy service of their fellows? There was a miasma of despair over this +place; it was not a real place--it was a dream-place--a horrible, +distorted nightmare! It was like the black hole in the ground which +haunted Hal’s imagination, with men and boys at the bottom of it, dying +of asphyxiation! + +Suddenly it came to Hal--he wanted to get away from North Valley! To get +away at all costs! The place had worn down his courage; slowly, day +after day, the sight of misery and want, of dirt and disease, of hunger, +oppression, despair, had eaten the soul out of him, had undermined his +fine structure of altruistic theories. Yes, he wanted to escape--to a +place where the sun shone, where the grass grew green, where human +beings stood erect and laughed and were free. He wanted to shut from his +eyes the dust and smoke of this nasty little village; to stop his ears +to that tormenting sound of women wailing: “O, mein Mann! O, mein Mann!” + +He looked at the girl, who sat staring before her, bent forward, her +arms hanging limply over her knees. + +“Mary,” he said, “you must go away from here! It’s no place for a +tenderhearted 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 ’twould +do me any good to get away? Could I ever forget the sights I’ve seen +this day? Could I ever have any real, honest happiness anywhere after +this?” + +He tried to reassure her, but he was far from reassured himself. How +would it be with him? Would he ever feel that he had a right to +happiness after this? Could he take any satisfaction in a pleasant and +comfortable world, knowing that it was based upon such hideous misery? +His thoughts went to that world, where careless, pleasure-loving people +sought gratification of their desires. It came to him suddenly that what +he wanted more than to get away was to bring those people here, if only +for a day, for an hour, that they might hear this chorus of wailing +women! + + + +SECTION 29. + +Mary made Hal swear that he would not get into a fight with Cotton; then +they went to Number Two. They found the mules coming up, and the bosses +promising that in a short while the men would be coming. Everything was +all right--there was not a bit of danger! But Mary was afraid to trust +Hal, in spite of his promise, so she lured him back to Number One. + +They found that a rescue-car had just arrived from Pedro, bringing +doctors and nurses, also several “helmets.” These “helmets” were strange +looking contrivances, fastened over the head and shoulders, air-tight, +and provided with oxygen sufficient to last for an hour or more. The men +who wore them sat in a big bucket which was let down the shaft with a +windlass, and every now and then they pulled on a signal-cord to let +those on the surface know they were alive. When the first of them came +back, he reported that there were bodies near the foot of the shaft, but +apparently all dead. There was heavy black smoke, indicating a fire +somewhere in the mine; so nothing more could be done until the fan had +been set up. By reversing the fan, they could draw out the smoke and +gases and clear the shaft. + +The state mine-inspector had been notified, but was ill at home, and was +sending one of his deputies. Under the law this official would have +charge of all the rescue work, but Hal found that the miners took no +interest 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 company +wanted. + +Some time after dark the workers began to come out of Number Two, and +their women, waiting at the pit-mouth, fell upon their necks with cries +of thankfulness. Hal observed other women, whose men were in Number One, +and would perhaps never come out again, standing and watching these +greetings with wistful, tear-filled eyes. Among those who came out was +Jack David, and Hal walked home with him and his wife, listening to the +latter abuse Jeff Cotton and Alec Stone, which was an education in the +vocabulary of class-consciousness. The little Welsh woman repeated the +pit-boss’s saying, “Damn the men, save the mules!” She said it again and +again--it seemed to delight her like a work of art, it summed up so +perfectly the attitude of the bosses to their men! There were many other +people 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 the +district believed to be the attitude of the coal-operators to the +workers! + +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 given +thought to every aspect of the industry. In his quiet, slow way, he +explained to Hal that the frequency of accidents in this district was +not due to any special difficulty in operating these mines, the +explosiveness of the gases or the dryness of the atmosphere. It was +merely the carelessness of those in charge, their disregard of the laws +for the protection of the men. There ought to be a law with “teeth” in +it--for example, one providing that for every man killed in a coal-mine +his heirs should receive a thousand dollars, regardless of who had been +to blame for the accident. Then you would see how quickly the operators +would get busy and find remedies for the “unusual” dangers! + +As it was, they knew that no matter how great their culpability, they +could get off with slight loss. Already, no doubt, their lawyers were on +the spot, and by the time the first bodies were brought out, they would +be fixing things up with the families. They would offer a widow a ticket +back to the old country; they would offer a whole family of orphaned +children, maybe fifty dollars, maybe a hundred dollars--and it would be +a 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 make +the attempt. That was one reform in which the companies believed, said +“Big Jack,” with sarcasm; they had put the “shyster lawyer” out of +business! + + + +SECTION 30. + +There followed a night and then another day of torturing suspense. The +fan came, but it had to be set up before anything could be done. As +volumes of black smoke continued to pour from the shaft, the opening was +made tight with a board and canvas cover; it was necessary, the bosses +said, but to Hal it seemed the climax of horror. To seal up men and boys +in a place of deadly gases! + +There was something peculiarly torturing in the idea of men caught in a +mine; they were directly under one’s feet, yet it was impossible to get +to them, to communicate with them in any way! The people on top yearned +to them, and they, down below, yearned back. It was impossible to forget +them for even a few minutes. People would become abstracted while they +talked, and would stand staring into space; suddenly, in the midst of a +crowd, 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 held +mourning parties in their homes or on the streets. Some house-work had +to be done, of course, but no one did anything that could be left +undone. The children would not play; they stood about, silent, pale, +like wizened-up grown people, over-mature in knowledge of trouble. The +nerves of every one were on edge, the self-control of every one balanced +upon 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, or +those who went into trances, or possessed second sight or other +mysterious gifts. There were some living in a remote part of the village +who declared they had heard explosions under the ground, several blasts +in quick succession. The men underground were setting off dynamite by +way of signalling! + +In the course of the second day Hal sat with Mary Burke upon the steps +of her home. Old Patrick lay within, having found the secret of oblivion +at O’Callahan’s. Now and then came the moaning of Mrs. Zamboni, who was +in 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 worn +out, herself; the wonderful Irish complexion had faded, and there were +no curves to the vivid lips. They had been sitting in silence, for there +was nothing to talk of but the disaster--and they had said all there was +to say about that. But Hal had been thinking while he watched Mary. + +“Listen, Mary,” he said, at last; “when this thing is over, you must +really come away from here. I’ve thought it all out--I have friends in +Western 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 the +dirty little street. + +“Truly, Mary,” he went on. “Life isn’t so terrible everywhere as it is +here. 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 make +them 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’re +just tired out. If you’ll try to rouse yourself--” And he reached over +and 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 she +went 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 I +know. And ye’re always offering me help! Ye’re always sayin’ what ye can +do for me!” She paused and there came some of the old defiance into her +face. “Joe, ye can have no idea of the feelin’s that have got hold of me +just now. I’m ready to do something desperate; ye’d best be leavin’ me +alone, Joe!” + +“I think I understand, Mary. I would hardly blame you for anything you +did.” + +She took up his words eagerly. “Wouldn’t ye, Joe? Ye’re sure? Then what +I 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 her +fingers picking nervously at a fold of her dress. “About us, Joe,” she +said. “I’ve thought sometimes ye cared for me. I’ve thought ye liked to +be 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 that +other girl, and I been wonderin’, was it only to put me off? Maybe it’s +me 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 was +true.” + +“Well, maybe so,” she said, but there was no conviction in her tone. “Ye +come away from her, and ye never go where she is or see her--it’s hard +to believe ye’d do that way if ye were very close to her. I just don’t +think ye love her as much as ye might. And ye say you do care some for +me. So I’ve thought--I’ve wondered--” + +She stopped, forcing herself to meet his gaze: “I been tryin’ to work it +out! I know ye’re too good a man for me, Joe. Ye come from a better +place 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 my +feelin’s. I know ye’re better than me! I’ve tried hard to hold me head +up, I’ve tried a long time not to let meself go to pieces. I’ve even +tried to keep cheerful, telling meself I’d not want to be like Mrs. +Zamboni, forever complainin’. But ’tis no use tellin’ yourself lies! I +been up to the church, and heard the Reverend Spragg tell the people +that 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 to +be 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 so +many wonderful things in the world, and ye can never have them! ’Tis as +if ye had to see them through a pane of glass, like in the window of a +store. Just think, Joe Smith--once, in a church in Sheridan, I heard a +lady sing beautiful music; once in my whole lifetime! Can ye guess what +it meant to me?” + +“Yes, Mary, I can.” + +“But I had that all out with meself--years ago. I knew the price a +workin’ girl has to pay for such things, and I said, I’ll not let meself +think about them. I’ve hated this place, I’ve wanted to get away--but +there’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 with +temptations. It’s many a time I’ve looked at Jeff Cotton, and thought +about the things I need! And I’ve done without! But now comes the thing +a 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 your +own class. Me old mother said that to me, before she died. But suppose +ye 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 old +mother did? Suppose ye knew good manners when ye see them--ye knew +interestin’ talk when ye heard it!” She clasped her hands suddenly +before her, exclaiming, “Ah, ’tis something different ye are, Joe--so +different 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; me +heart stops beatin’ almost when ye look at me!” She stopped with a sharp +catching of her breath, and he saw that she was struggling for +self-control. After a moment she exclaimed, defiantly: “But they’d tell +ye, be careful, ye daren’t love that kind of man; ye’d only have your +heart broken!” + +There was silence. For this problem the amateur sociologist had no +solution at hand--whether for the abstract question, or for its concrete +application! + + + +SECTION 31. + +Mary forced herself to go on. “This is how I’ve worked it out, Joe! I +said 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--and +ye’d not want to do that. Ye don’t want his name, or his friends, or any +of those things--ye want _him_!’ Have ye ever heard of such a thing as +that?” + +Her cheeks were flaming, but she continued to meet his gaze. “Yes, I’ve +heard 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 it +mortal sin; and maybe they know--but I don’t! I only know I can’t stand +it any more!” + +Tears sprang to her eyes, and she cried out suddenly, “Oh, take me away +from 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 and +do everything for ye, I’ll wear my fingers to the bone! Or I’ll go out +and work at some job, and earn my share. And I’ll make ye this +promise--if ever ye get tired and want to leave me, ye’ll not hear a +word of complaint!” + +She made no conscious appeal to his senses; she sat gazing at him +honestly through her tears, and that made it all the harder to answer +her. + +What could he say? He felt the old dangerous impulse--to take the girl +in his arms and comfort her. When finally he spoke it was with an effort +to 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 mean +it!” + +“There’s no woman lives who can be happy on such terms, Mary. She wants +her man, and she wants him to herself, and she wants him always; she’s +only deluding herself if she believes anything else. You’re over-wrought +now, 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 for +weeks.” + +“I know. You’ve been thinking, but you wouldn’t have spoken if it hadn’t +been for this horror.” He paused for a moment, to renew his own +self-possession. “It won’t do, Mary,” he declared. “I’ve seen it tried +more 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 made +himself selfish. He took everything, and gave nothing. He’s much older +than I, so I’ve had a chance to see its effect on him. He’s cold, he has +no faith, even in his own nature; when you talk to him about making the +world better he tells you you’re a fool.” + +“It’s another way of bein’ afraid of me,” she insisted. “Afraid you’d +ought to marry me!” + +“But, Mary--there’s the other girl. I really love her, and I’m promised +to 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 blue +dress, which was smutted and grease-stained, perhaps from her recent +effort with Mrs. Zamboni’s brood. Several times Hal thought she was +going to speak, but she shut her lips tightly again; he watched her, his +heart aching. + +When finally she spoke, it was still in a whisper, and there was a note +of humility he had never heard from her before. “Ye’ll not be wantin’ to +speak to me, Joe, after what I’ve said.” + +“Oh, Mary!” he exclaimed, and caught her hand, “don’t say I’ve made you +more unhappy! I want to help you! Won’t you let me be your friend--your +real, true friend? Let me help you to get out of this trap; you’ll have +a chance to look about, you’ll find a way to be happy--the whole world +will seem different to you then, and you’ll laugh at the idea that you +ever wanted me!” + + + +SECTION 32. + +The two of them went back to the pit-mouth. It had been two days since +the disaster, and still the fan had not been started, and there was no +sign of its being started. The hysteria of the women was growing, and +there was a tension in the crowds. Jeff Cotton had brought in a force of +men to assist him in keeping order. They had built a fence of barbed +wire about the pit-mouth and its approaches, and behind this wire they +walked--hard-looking citizens with policemen’s “billies,” and the bulge +of revolvers plainly visible on their hips. + +During this long period of waiting, Hal had talks with members of his +check-weighman group. They told what had happened while he was in jail, +and this reminded him of something which had been driven from his mind +by the explosion. Poor old John Edstrom was down in Pedro, perhaps in +dire need. Hal went to the old Swede’s cabin that night, climbed through +a window, and dug up the buried money. There were five five-dollar +bills, and he put them in an envelope, addressed them in care of General +Delivery, Pedro, and had Mary Burke take them to the post office and +register them. + +The hours dragged on, and still there was no sign of the pit-mouth being +opened. There began to be secret gatherings of the miners and their +wives to complain at the conduct of the company; and it was natural that +Hal’s friends who had started the check-weighman movement, should take +the lead in these. They were among the most intelligent of the workers, +and saw farther into the meaning of events. They thought, not merely of +the men who were trapped under ground at this moment, but of thousands +of others who would be trapped through years to come. Hal, especially, +was pondering how he could accomplish something definite before he left +the camp; for of course he would have to leave soon--Jeff Cotton would +remember him, and carry out his threat to get rid of him. + +Newspapers had come in, with accounts of the disaster, and Hal and his +friends read these. It was evident that the company had been at pains to +have the accounts written from its own point of view. There existed some +public sensitiveness on the subject of mine-disasters in this state. The +death-rate from accidents was seen to be mounting steadily; the reports +of the state mine inspector showed six per thousand in one year, eight +and a half in the next, and twenty-one and a half in the next. When +fifty or a hundred men were killed in a single accident, and when such +accidents kept happening, one on the heels of another, even the most +callous 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 make +excuses. The accident had been owing to no fault of the company’s; the +mine had been regularly sprinkled, both with water and adobe dust, and +so the cause of the explosion must have been the carelessness of the men +in handling powder. + +In Jack David’s cabin one night there arose a discussion as to the +number of men entombed in the mine. The company’s estimate of the number +was forty, but Minetti and Olson and David agreed that this was absurd. +Any man who went about in the crowds could satisfy himself that there +were two or three times as many unaccounted for. And this falsification +was deliberate, for the company had a checking system, whereby it knew +the name of every man in the mine. But most of these names were +unpronounceable Slavish, and the owners of the names had no friends to +mention them--at least not in any language understood by American +newspaper editors. + +It was all a part of the system, declared Jack David: its purpose and +effect being to enable the company to go on killing men without paying +for them, either in money or in prestige. It occurred to Hal that it +might be worth while to contradict these false statements--almost as +worth while as to save the men who were at this moment entombed. Any one +who came forward to make such a contradiction would of course be giving +himself up to the black-list; but then, Hal regarded himself as a man +already 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 by +Vagleman, counsel for the ‘G. F. C.’ Which one would you try?” + +“Well then, the outside papers--those in Western City. There are +reporters here now, and some one of them would surely take it.” + +Olson answered, declaring that they would not get any but labour and +Socialist papers to print such news. But even that was well worth doing. +And Jack David, who was strong for unions and all their activities, put +in, “The thing to do is to take a regular census, so as to know exactly +how many are in the mine.” + +The suggestion struck fire, and they agreed to set to work that same +evening. It would be a relief to do something, to have something in +their minds but despair. They passed the word to Mary Burke, to Rovetta, +Klowoski, and others; and at eleven o’clock the next morning they met +again, and the lists were put together, and it was found that no less +than a hundred and seven men and boys were positively known to be inside +Number One. + + + +SECTION 33. + +As it happened, however, discussion of this list and the method of +giving it to the world was cut short by a more urgent matter. Jack David +came in with news of fresh trouble at the pit-mouth. The new fan was +being put in place; but they were slow about it, so slow that some +people had become convinced that they did not mean to start the fan at +all, but were keeping the mine sealed to prevent the fire from +spreading. A group of such malcontents had presumed to go to Mr. +Carmichael, the deputy state mine-inspector, to urge him to take some +action; and the leader of these protestants, Huszar, the Austrian, who +had been one of Hal’s check-weighman group, had been taken into custody +and marched at double-quick to the gate of the stockade! + +Jack David declared furthermore that he knew a carpenter who was working +in 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; and +wouldn’t that prevent rescue work?” + +“Not at all,” declared “Big Jack.” He explained that by reversing the +fan they could draw the smoke up through the air-course, which would +clear the main passages for a time. “But, you see, some coal might catch +fire, and some timbers; there might be falls of rock so they couldn’t +work 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 a +week.” + +“Everybody be dead!” cried Rosa Minetti, wringing her hands in a sudden +access 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 it +there, and more than three hundred people lost their lives.” He went on +to tell that dreadful story, known to every coal-miner. They had sealed +the mine, while women fainted and men tore their clothes in frenzy--some +going insane. They had kept it sealed for two weeks, and when they +opened it, there were twenty-one men still alive! + +“They did the same thing in Diamondville, Wyoming,” added Olson. “They +built up a barrier, and when they took it away they found a heap of dead +men, who had crawled to it and torn their fingers to the bone trying to +break through.” + +“My God!” cried Hal, springing to his feet. “And this man +Carmichael--would he stand for that?” + +“He’d tell you they were doing their best,” said “Big Jack.” “And maybe +he thinks they are. But you’ll see--something’ll keep happening; they’ll +drag on from day to day, and they’ll not start the fan till they’re +ready.” + +“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. Not +one but had friends in that trap; not one but might be in the same trap +to-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 you +see 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. And +old Mrs. Jonotch--her husband and three sons inside!” + +“They’re getting rougher and rougher,” declared Mrs. David. “That big +fellow they call Pete, that came up from Pedro--the way he’s handling +the women is a shame!” + +“I know him,” put in Olson; “Pete Hanun. They had him in Sheridan when +the union first opened headquarters. He smashed one of our organisers in +the 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 lectures +upon political economy, filled with the praises of a thing called +“Private Ownership.” This Private Ownership developed initiative and +economy; it kept the wheels of industry a-roll, it kept fat the +pay-rolls of college faculties; it accorded itself with the sacred laws +of supply and demand, it was the basis of the progress and prosperity +wherewith America had been blessed. And here suddenly Hal found himself +face to face with the reality of it; he saw its wolfish eyes glaring +into his own, he felt its smoking hot breath in his face, he saw its +gleaming fangs and claw-like fingers, dripping with the blood of men and +women and children. Private Ownership of coal-mines! Private Ownership +of sealed-up entrances and non-existent escape-ways! Private Ownership +of fans which did not start, of sprinklers which did not sprinkle. +Private Ownership of clubs and revolvers, and of thugs and ex-convicts +to use them, driving away rescuers and shutting up agonised widows and +orphans in their homes! Oh, the serene and well-fed priests of Private +Ownership, chanting in academic halls the praises of the bloody Demon! + +Suddenly Hal stopped still. Something had risen in him, the existence of +which he had never suspected. There was a new look upon his face, his +voice was deep as a strong man’s when he spoke: “I am going to make them +open that mine!” + +They looked at him. They were all of them close to the border of +hysteria, but they caught the strange note in his utterance. “I am going +to make them open that mine!” + +“How?” asked Olson. + +“The public doesn’t know about this thing. If the story got out, there’d +be 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--I +don’t care how prejudiced they are!” + +“But do you think they’d believe what a miner’s buddy tells them?” asked +Mrs. David. + +“I’ll find a way to make them believe me,” said Hal. “I’m going to make +them open that mine!” + + + +SECTION 34. + +In the course of his wanderings about the camp, Hal had observed several +wide-awake looking young men with notebooks in their hands. He could see +that these young men were being made guests of the company, chatting +with the bosses upon friendly terms; nevertheless, he believed that +among them he might find one who had a conscience--or at any rate who +would yield to the temptation of a “scoop.” So, leaving the gathering at +Mrs. David’s, Hal went to the pit-mouth, watching out for one of these +reporters; when he found him, he followed him for a while, desiring to +get him where no company “spotter” might interfere. At the first chance, +he stepped up, and politely asked the reporter to come into a side +street, where they might converse undisturbed. + +The reporter obeyed the request; and Hal, concealing the intensity of +his feelings, so as not to repel the other, let it be known that he had +worked in North Valley for some months, and could tell much about +conditions in the camp. There was the matter of adobe-dust, for example. +Explosions in dry mines could be prevented by spraying the walls with +this material. Did the reporter happen to know that the company’s claim +to 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, a +lean and keen-faced young man, asked many questions--intelligent +questions; incidentally he mentioned that he was the local correspondent +of the great press association whose stories of the disaster were sent +to every corner of the country. This seemed to Hal an extraordinary +piece of good fortune, and he proceeded to tell this Mr. Graham about +the census which some of the workers had taken; they were able to give +the 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. Graham +seemed more interested than ever, and made notes in his book. + +Another thing, more important yet, Hal continued; the matter of the +delay in getting the fan started. It had been three days since the +explosion, but there had been no attempt at entering the mine. Had Mr. +Graham seen the disturbance at the pit-mouth that morning? Did he +realise that a man had been thrown out of camp merely because he had +appealed to the deputy state mine-inspector? Hal told what so many had +come to believe--that the company was saving property at the expense of +life. He went on to point out the human meaning of this--he told about +old Mrs. Rafferty, with her failing health and her eight children; about +Mrs. Zamboni, with eleven children; about Mrs. Jonotch, with a husband +and three sons in the mine. Led on by the reporter’s interest, Hal began +to show some of his feeling. These were human beings, not animals; they +loved and suffered, even though they were poor and humble! + +“Most certainly!” said Mr. Graham. “You’re right, and you may rest +assured I’ll look into this.” + +“There’s one thing more,” said Hal. “If my name is mentioned, I’ll be +fired, 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 not +add anything.” + +He spoke with quiet assurance; he seemed to know so completely both the +situation and his own duty in regard to it, that Hal felt a thrill of +triumph. It was as if a strong wind had come blowing from the outside +world, dispelling the miasma which hung over this coal-camp. Yes, this +reporter _was_ the outside world! He was the power of public opinion, +making itself felt in this place of knavery and fear! He was the voice +of truth, the courage and rectitude of a great organisation of +publicity, independent of secret influences, lifted above corruption! + +“I’m indebted to you,” said Mr. Graham, at the end, and Hal’s sense of +victory was complete. What an extraordinary chance--that he should have +run into the agent of the great press association! The story would go +out to the great world of industry, which depended upon coal as its +life-blood. The men in the factories, the wheels of which were turned by +coal--the travellers on trains which were moved by coal--they would hear +at last of the sufferings of those who toiled in the bowels of the earth +for them! Even the ladies, reclining upon the decks of palatial +steamships in gleaming tropic seas--so marvellous was the power of +modern news-spreading agencies, that these ladies too might hear the cry +for help of these toilers, and of their wives and little ones! And from +this great world would come an answer, a universal shout of horror, of +execration, that would force even old Peter Harrigan to give way! So Hal +mused--for he was young, and this was his first crusade. + +He was so happy that he was able to think of himself again, and to +realise that he had not eaten that day. It was noon-time, and he went +into Reminitsky’s, and was about half through with the first course of +Reminitsky’s two-course banquet, when his cruel disillusioning fell upon +him! + +He looked up and saw Jeff Cotton striding into the dining-room, making +straight 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 him +out, almost before the rest of the diners had time to catch their +breath. + +Hal had no opportunity now to display his “tea-party manners” to the +camp-marshal. As they walked, Cotton expressed his opinion of him, that +he was a skunk, a puppy, a person of undesirable ancestry; and when Hal +endeavoured to ask a question--which he did quite genuinely, not +grasping at once the meaning of what was happening--the marshal bade him +“shut his face,” and emphasised the command by a twist at his +coat-collar. At the same time two of the huskiest mine-guards, who had +been waiting at the dining-room door, took him, one by each arm, and +assisted his progress. + +They went down the street and past Jeff Cotton’s office, not stopping +this time. Their destination was the railroad-station, and when Hal got +there, he saw a train standing. The three men marched him to it, not +releasing 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 need +a 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 the +marshal. + +So Hal waited; and a minute or two later a man arrived on the run with +his scanty belongings, rolled into a bundle and tied with a piece of +twine. Hal noted that this man was big and ugly, and was addressed by +the camp-marshal as “Pete.” + +The conductor shouted, “All aboard!” And at the same time Jeff Cotton +leaned over towards Hal and spoke in a menacing whisper: “Take this from +me, young fellow; don’t stop in Pedro, move on in a hurry, or something +will 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 car +a 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 to +call 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 came +upon the undertaker who had buried Edstrom’s wife, and who told him +where the old Swede was staying, in the home of a labouring-man nearby. + +Edstrom greeted him with eager questions: Who had been killed? What was +the situation? Hal told in brief sentences what had happened. When he +mentioned his need of money, Edstrom answered that he had a little, and +would lend it, but it was not enough for a ticket to Western City. Hal +asked about the twenty-five dollars which Mary Burke had sent by +registered mail; the old man had heard nothing about it, he had not been +to the post-office. “Let’s go now!” said Hal, at once; but as they were +starting downstairs, a fresh difficulty occurred to him. Pete Hanun was +on the street outside, and it was likely that he had heard about this +money 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 friend +Ed MacKellar. He may be able to give us some advice--even to think of +some way to get the mine open.” Edstrom explained that MacKellar, an old +Scotchman, had been a miner, but was now crippled, and held some petty +office in Pedro. He was a persistent opponent of “Alf” Raymond’s +machine, and they had almost killed him on one occasion. His home was +not far away, and it would take little time to consult him. + +“All right,” said Hal, and they set out at once. Pete Hanun followed +them, not more than a dozen yards behind, but did not interfere, and +they turned in at the gate of a little cottage. A woman opened the door +for them, and asked them into the dining-room where MacKellar was +sitting--a grey-haired old man, twisted up with rheumatism and obliged +to 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 Hal +told his idea of appealing to the newspapers, the other responded at +once, “You won’t have to go to Western City. There’s a man right here +who’ll do the business for you; Keating, of the _Gazette_.” + +“The Western City _Gazette?_” exclaimed Hal. He knew this paper; an +evening journal selling for a cent, and read by working-men. Persons of +culture who referred to it disposed of it with the adjective “yellow.” + +“I know,” said MacKellar, noting Hal’s tone. “But it’s the only paper +that 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 first +time the cheery voice of his friend and lieutenant-to-be, “Billy” + Keating. In a couple of minutes more the owner of the voice was at +MacKellar’s door, wiping the perspiration from his half-bald forehead. +He was round-faced, like a full moon, and as jolly as Falstaff; when you +got to know him better, you discovered that he was loyal as a +Newfoundland dog. For all his bulk, Keating was a newspaper man, every +inch of him “on the job.” + +He started to question the young miner as soon as he was introduced, and +it 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 a +few minutes. “By thunder!” he cried. “My last edition!” And he pulled +out 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, and +last time I had to wait nearly half an hour.” + +He turned back to Hal, and proceeded to ask more questions, at the same +time pulling a bunch of copy-paper from his pocket and making notes. He +got all Hal’s statements about the lack of sprinkling, the absence of +escape-ways, the delay in starting the fan, the concealing of the number +of 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 the +time. You know a fellow named Predovich?” + +“I do,” said Hal. “The company store-clerk; he once went through my +pockets.” + +Keating made a face of disgust. “Well, he was my chaperon. Imagine +trying to get the miners to talk to you with that sneak at your heels! I +said to the superintendent, ‘I don’t need anybody to escort me around +your place.’ And he looked at me with a nasty little smile. ‘We wouldn’t +want 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 other +reporters,’ I said. ‘No,’ said he; ‘but the _Gazette_ has made a great +many 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 the +readers of the _Gazette_.’” + +“Too bad we didn’t meet!” said Hal. “Or if you’d run into any of our +check-weighman crowd!” + +“Oh! You know about that check-weighman business!” exclaimed the +reporter. “I got a hint of it--that’s how I happened to be down here +to-day. I heard there was a man named Edstrom, who’d been shut out for +making 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 began +to 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 another +series 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 what +the North Valley bosses were doing when they should have been looking +after the safety of their mine. “I’ll write it out this afternoon and +send it by mail,” said Keating; he added, with a smile, “That’s one +advantage of handling news the other papers won’t touch--you don’t have +to 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 questions +about Hal’s experiences. Before long he drew out the story of the young +man’s first effort in the publicity game; at which he sank back in his +chair, 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 to +Graham!” + +The Scotchman seemed to find it equally funny; together they explained +that Graham was the political reporter of the _Eagle_, the paper in +Pedro which was owned by the Sheriff-emperor. One might call him Alf +Raymond’s journalistic jackal; there was no job too dirty for him. + +“But,” cried Hal, “he told me he was correspondent for the Western press +association!” + +“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 a +correspondent is that he should have respect for property. If respect +for 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 in +the 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 I +think he’d better keep off the streets as much as possible.” + +“You’re right. If you take my advice, you’ll take the typewriter +upstairs, 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 friend +Tom Burton dead while he stood on the steps of his home. He was opposing +the machine, and had evidence about ballot-frauds he was going to put +before the Grand Jury.” + +While Keating continued to fret with “long distance,” the old Scotchman +went on trying to impress upon Hal the danger of his position. Quite +recently an organiser of the miners’ union had been beaten up in broad +day-light and left insensible on the sidewalk; MacKellar had watched the +trial and acquittal of the two thugs who had committed this crime--the +foreman of the jury being a saloon-keeper one of Raymond’s heelers, and +the other jurymen being Mexicans, unable to comprehend a word of the +court proceedings. + +“Exactly such a jury as Jeff Cotton promised me!” remarked Hal, with a +feeble attempt at a smile. + +“Yes,” answered the other; “and don’t make any mistake about it, if they +want to put you away, they can do it. They run the whole machine here. I +know how it is, for I had a political job myself, until they found they +couldn’t use me.” + +The old Scotchman went on to explain that he had been elected justice of +peace, and had tried to break up the business of policemen taking money +from the women of the town; he had been forced to resign, and his +enemies had made his life a torment. Recently he had been candidate for +district judge on the Progressive ticket, and told of his efforts to +carry on a campaign in the coal-camps--how his circulars had been +confiscated, his posters torn down, his supporters “kangarooed.” It was +exactly as Alec Stone, the pit-boss, had explained to Hal. In some of +the camps the meeting-halls belonged to the company; in others they +belonged to saloon-keepers whose credit depended upon Alf Raymond. In +the few places where there were halls that could be hired, the machine +had gone to the extreme of sending in rival entertainments, furnishing +free music and free beer in order to keep the crowds away from +MacKellar. + +All this time Billy Keating had been chafing and scolding at “long +distance.” Now at last he managed to get his call, and silence fell in +the room. “Hello, Pringle, that you? This is Keating. Got a big story on +the North Valley disaster. Last edition put to bed yet? Put Jim on the +wire. Hello, Jim! Got your book?” And then Billy, evidently talking to a +stenographer, began to tell the story he had got from Hal. Now and then +he would stop to repeat or spell a word; once or twice Hal corrected him +on 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 in +Western City in a little over an hour; it’ll be down here as soon +thereafter as they can get telephone connections. And take my advice, if +you want to keep a whole skin, you’ll be out of Pedro when that +happens!” + + + +SECTION 3. + +When Hal spoke, he did not answer Billy Keating’s last remark. He had +been listening to a retelling of the North Valley disaster over the +telephone; so he was not thinking about his skin, but about a hundred +and seven men and boys buried inside a mine. + +“Mr. Keating,” said he, “are you sure the _Gazette_ will print that +story?” + +“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, and +this 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 publication +of the facts would force the company to move. But Keating explained that +the _Gazette_ read mainly by working-people, and so had comparatively +little influence. “We’re an afternoon paper,” he said; “and when people +have been reading lies all morning, it’s not easy to make them believe +the 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 keep +pounding away for a long time, we can make an impression; at least we +limit the amount of news the Western press association can suppress. But +when 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,” he +exclaimed. + +“I don’t see what you can do,” replied the other. + +There was a pause, while the young miner pondered. “I had thought of +going up to Western City and appealing to the editors,” he said, a +little 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, he +wouldn’t do anything. He’s not really the Governor, you know; he’s a +puppet put up there to fool you. He only moves when Harrigan pulls a +string.” + +“Of course I knew he was Old Peter’s man,” said Hal. “But then”--and he +concluded, somewhat lamely, “What _can_ I do?” + +A smile of pity came upon the reporter’s face. “I can see this is the +first time you’ve been up against ‘big business.’” And then he added, +“You’re young! When you’ve had more experience, you’ll leave these +problems to older heads!” But Hal failed to get the reporter’s sarcasm. +He had heard these exact words in such deadly seriousness from his +brother! Besides, he had just come from scenes of horror. + +“But don’t you see, Mr. Keating?” he exclaimed. “It’s impossible for me +to sit still while those men die?” + +“I don’t know about your sitting still,” said the other. “All I know is +that all your moving about isn’t going to do them any good.” + +Hal turned to Edstrom and MacKellar. “Gentlemen,” he said, “listen to me +for a minute.” And there was a note of pleading in his voice--as if he +thought they were deliberately refusing to help him! “We’ve got to do +something 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’d +suggest 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.’ The +officials are crooks--company servants, all of them.” + +“Just a moment now,” said Hal. “Let’s consider. Suppose we had a real +government--what steps would we take? We’d carry such a case to the +District Attorney, wouldn’t we?” + +“Yes, no doubt of it,” said MacKellar. + +“You mentioned him before,” said Hal. “He threatened to prosecute some +mine-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 the +miners 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, at +least? 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, at +least 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 to +do?” + +“Why, to lay the matter before the Grand Jury; to bring indictments +against 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. “I +don’t think any threat of Dick Barker’s would count for that much. The +bosses 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 justice +of the peace.” + +“Who’s he?” + +“Jim Anderson, a horse-doctor. He’s like any other J.P. you ever +knew--he lives on petty graft.” + +“Is there a higher court?” + +“Yes, the district court; Judge Denton. He’s the law-partner of +Vagleman, counsel for the ‘G. F. C.’ How far would you expect to get +with him?” + +“I suppose I’m clutching at straws,” said Hal. “But they say that’s what +a drowning man does. Anyway, I’m going to see these people, and maybe +out 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 Hal +consider the danger of being slugged Or shot. “They’ll do it!” exclaimed +MacKellar. “And no trouble for them--they’ll prove you were stabbed by a +drunken Dago, quarrelling over some woman.” + +But Hal had got his head set; he believed he could put this job through +before his enemies had time to lay any plans. Nor would he let any of +his friends accompany him; he had something more important for both +Edstrom and Keating to do--and as for MacKellar, he could not get about +rapidly enough. Hal bade Edstrom go to the post-office and get the +registered letter, and proceed at once to change the bills. It was his +plan to make out affidavits, and if the officials here would not act, to +take 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 copies +of the affidavits for the _Gazette_. + +Hal was still wearing the miner’s clothes he had worn on the night of +his arrest in Edstrom’s cabin. But he declined MacKellar’s offer to lend +him a business-suit; the old Scotchman’s clothes would not fit him, he +knew, and it would be better to make his appeal as a real miner than as +a misfit gentleman. + +These matters being settled, Hal went out upon the street, where Pete +Hanun, the breaker of teeth, fell in behind him. The young miner at once +broke into a run, and the other followed suit, and so the two of them +sped down the street, to the wonder of people on the way. As Hal had had +practice as a sprinter, no doubt Pete was glad that the District +Attorney’s office was not far away! + + + +SECTION 4. + +Mr. Richard Parker was busy, said the clerk in toe outer office; for +which 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 the +street outside. + +Mr. Parker received his caller in a couple of minutes. He was a well-fed +gentleman with generous neck and chin, freshly shaved and rubbed with +talcum powder. His clothing was handsome, his linen immaculate; one got +the impression of a person who “did himself well.” There were papers on +his 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 Pedro +County?” + +“That’s right.” + +“Mr. Parker, have you given any attention to the circumstances of the +North Valley disaster?” + +“No,” said Mr. Parker. “Why?” + +“I have just come from North Valley, and I can give you information +which may be of interest to you. There are a hundred and seven people +entombed in the mine, and the company officials have sealed it, and are +sacrificing those lives.” + +The other put down the correspondence, and made an examination of his +caller from under his heavy eyelids. “How do you know this?” + +“I left there only a few hours ago. The facts are known to all the +workers 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 saw +the pit-mouth boarded over and covered with canvas. I know a man who was +driven out of camp this morning for complaining about the delay in +starting the fan. It has been over three days since the explosion, and +still 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 not +mind that; it was the man’s business to make sure. + +Presently he demanded to know how he could get corroboration of Hal’s +statements. + +“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 of +them.” + +“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 every +man 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 by +using the telephone. My name is Joe Smith, and I was a miner’s helper in +Number Two.” + +But that was not sufficient, said Mr. Parker; his time was valuable, and +before he took a trip to North Valley he must have the names of +witnesses who would corroborate these statements. + +“I offer you an affidavit!” exclaimed Hal. “I say that I have knowledge +that a crime is being committed--that a hundred and seven human lives +are being sacrificed. You don’t consider that a sufficient reason for +even making inquiry?” + +The District Attorney answered again that he desired to do his duty, he +desired to protect the workers in their rights; but he could not afford +to 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 first +pretext for doing nothing? Or could it be that an official of the state +would 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 chance +he could. He went over the whole story of the disaster. He took Mr. +Parker up to the camp, showed him the agonised women and terrified +children crowding about the pit-mouth, driven back with clubs and +revolvers. He named family after family, widows and mothers and orphans. +He told of the miners clamouring for a chance to risk their lives to +save their fellows. He let his own feelings sweep him along; he pleaded +with fervour for his suffering friends. + +“Young man,” said the other, breaking in upon his eloquence, “how long +have 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 you +to bring a charge of ‘murder’ against men who have spent their lives in +learning the business of mining?” + +“As I have told you,” exclaimed Hal, “it’s not merely my opinion; it’s +the opinion of the oldest and most experienced of the miners. I tell you +no effort whatever is being made to save those men! The bosses care +nothing about their men! One of them, Alec Stone, was heard by a crowd +of people to say, ‘Damn the men! Save the mules!’” + +“Everybody up there is excited,” declared the other. “Nobody can think +straight at present--you can’t think straight yourself. If the mine’s on +fire, and if the fire is spreading to such an extent that it can’t be +put out--” + +“But, Mr. Parker, how can you say that it’s spreading to such an +extent?” + +“Well, how can you say that it isn’t?” + +There was a pause. “I understand there’s a deputy mine-inspector up +there,” 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 of +camp.” + +“Well,” said Mr. Parker--and there came a note into his voice by which +Hal knew that he had found the excuse he sought--“Well, it’s +Carmichael’s business, and I have no right to butt in on it. If he comes +to me and asks for indictments, I’ll act--but not otherwise. That’s all +I have to say about it.” + +And Hal rose. “Very well, Mr. Parker,” said he. “I have put the facts +before you. I was told you wouldn’t do anything, but I wanted to give +you a chance. Now I’m going to ask the Governor for your removal!” And +with 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 public +stenographer. When this young woman discovered the nature of the +material he proposed to dictate, her fingers trembled visibly; but she +did not refuse the task, and Hal proceeded to set forth the +circumstances of the sealing of the pit-mouth of Number One Mine at +North Valley, and to pray for warrants for the arrest of Enos Cartwright +and Alec Stone. Then he gave an account of how he had been selected as +check-weighman and been refused access to the scales; and with all the +legal phraseology he could rake up, he prayed for the arrest of Enos +Cartwright and James Peters, superintendent and tipple-boss at North +Valley, for these offences. In another affidavit he narrated how Jeff +Cotton, camp-marshal, had seized him at night, mistreated him, and shut +him in prison for thirty-six hours without warrant or charge; also how +Cotton, Pete Hanun, and two other parties by name unknown, had illegally +driven him from the town of North Valley, threatening him with violence; +for which he prayed the arrest of Jeff Cotton, Pete Hanun, and the two +parties unknown. + +Before this task was finished, Billy Keating came in, bringing the +twenty-five dollars which Edstrom had got from the post-office. They +found a notary public, before whom Hal made oath to each document; and +when these had been duly inscribed and stamped with the seal of the +state, he gave carbon copies to Keating, who hurried off to catch a +mail-train which was just due. Billy would not trust such things to the +local post-office; for Pedro was the hell of a town, he declared. As +they went out on the street again they noticed that their body-guard had +been increased by another husky-looking personage, who made no attempt +to 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 evidently +chewed tobacco before he assumed the ermine, and his reddish-coloured +moustache still showed the stains. Hal observed such details, trying to +weigh his chances of success. He presented the affidavit describing his +treatment in North Valley, and sat waiting while His Honour read it +through 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. “You +can’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 keep +order 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 see +Si 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 can +see that for yourself. What kind of discipline could they keep in them +camps if any fellow that had a kick could come down here and have the +marshal 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 a +coal-camp--would you try to stop him?” + +“Yes, of course.” + +“Then here’s another affidavit,” said Hal; and he produced the one about +the sealing of the mine. There was silence while Justice Anderson read +it 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 run +their business.” + +Hal argued with him. Could company officials in charge of a coal-mine +commit any sort of outrage upon their employés, and call it running +their business? Their control of the mine in such an emergency as this +meant 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. Hal +might go up to the court-house and see Judge Denton about it. So Hal +gathered up his affidavits and went out to the street again--where there +were now three husky-looking personages waiting to escort him. + + + +SECTION 6. + +The district court was in session and Hal sat for a while in the +court-room, watching Judge Denton. Here was another prosperous and +well-fed appearing gentleman, with a rubicund visage shining over the +top of his black silk robe. The young miner found himself regarding both +the robe and the visage with suspicion. Could it be that Hal was +becoming cynical, and losing his faith in his fellow man? What he +thought of, in connection with the Judge’s appearance, was that there +was a living to be made sitting on the bench, while one’s partner +appeared before the bench as coal-company counsel! + +In an interval of the proceedings, Hal spoke to the clerk, and was told +that he might see the judge at four-thirty; but a few minutes later Pete +Hanun came in and whispered to this clerk. The clerk looked at Hal, then +he went up and whispered to the Judge. At four-thirty, when the court +was declared adjourned, the Judge rose and disappeared into his private +office; and when Hal applied to the clerk, the latter brought out the +message that Judge Denton was too busy to see him. + +But Hal was not to be disposed of in that easy fashion. There was a side +door to the court-room, with a corridor beyond it, and while he stood +arguing with the clerk he saw the rubicund visage of the Judge flit +past. + +He darted in pursuit. He did not shout or make a disturbance; but when +he was close behind his victim, he said, quietly, “Judge Denton, I +appeal 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 it +would have needed no more than a nod from the Judge to cause him to +collar Hal. But the Judge, taken by surprise, permitted himself to +parley with the young miner; and the detective hesitated, and finally +fell back a step or two. + +Hal repeated his appeal. “Your Honour, there are a hundred and seven men +and 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 the +street.” + +“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 arrangement +was pleasing to him; he set out by his side, with Pete Hanun and the +other two men some ten yards in the rear. + +Hal told the story as he had told it to Mr. Richard Parker; and he +received the same response. Such matters were not easy to decide about; +they were hardly a Judge’s business. There was a state official on the +ground, 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 this +official had been thrown out of camp. “And I was thrown out also, your +Honour.” + +“What for?” + +“Nobody told me what for.” + +“Tut, tut, young man! They don’t throw men out without telling them the +reason!” + +“But they _do_, your Honour! Shortly before that they locked me up in +jail, and held me for thirty-six hours without the slightest show of +authority.” + +“You must have been doing something!” + +“What I had done was to be chosen by a committee of miners to act as +their check-weighman.” + +“Their check-weighman?” + +“Yes, your Honour. I am informed there’s a law providing that when the +men demand a check-weighman, and offer to pay for him, the company must +permit 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 or +sixteen years, and that the penalty is from twenty-five to five hundred +dollars fine. It’s a case about which there can be no dispute, your +Honour--the miners notified the superintendent that they desired my +services, and when I presented myself at the tipple, I was refused +access to the scales; then I was seized and shut up in jail, and finally +turned out of the camp. I have made affidavit to these facts, and I +think 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, is +now in Pedro, having been kept out of his home, which he had rented and +paid for. The other, Mike Sikoria, was also thrown out of camp. There +are many others at North Valley who know all about it.” + +There was a pause. Judge Denton for the first time took a good look at +the young miner at his side; and then he drew his brows together in +solemn thought, and his voice became deep and impressive. “I shall take +this 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’t +know how long I’ll be able to stay there. There are company thugs +watching 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 at +this moment--one of them the same Pete Hanun who helped to drive me out +of North Valley. If you will turn your head you will see them behind +us.” + +But the portly Judge did not turn his head. + +“I have been informed,” Hal continued, “that I am taking my life in my +hands by my present course of action. I believe I’m entitled to ask for +protection.” + +“What do you want me to do?” + +“To begin with, I’d like you to cause the arrest of the men who are +shadowing me.” + +“It’s not my business to cause such arrests. You should apply to a +policeman.” + +“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 the +matter with you is that you’ve been reading dime novels, and they’ve got +on 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. Can +you tell me where I can find an honest lawyer in this town--a man who +might be willing to take a case against the interests of the General +Fuel Company?” + +There was a silence--a long, long silence. Judge Denton, of the firm of +Denton 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 at +last, “it’s not my business to give you information about lawyers.” And +with 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 he +turned back and passed the three detectives, who stopped. He stared at +them, but made no sign, nor did they. Some twenty feet behind him, they +fell in and followed as before. + +Judge Denton had suggested consulting a policeman; and suddenly Hal +noticed that he was passing the City Hall, and it occurred to him that +this matter of his being shadowed might properly be brought to the +attention of the mayor of Pedro. He wondered what the chief magistrate +of such a “hell of a town” might be like; after due inquiry, he found +himself in the office of Mr. Ezra Perkins, a mild-mannered little +gentleman who had been in the undertaking-business, before he became a +figure-head for the so-called “Democratic” machine. + +He sat pulling nervously at a neatly trimmed brown beard, trying to +wriggle out of the dilemma into which Hal put him. Yes, it might +possibly be that a young miner was being followed on the streets of the +town; but whether or not this was against the law depended on the +circumstances. If he had made a disturbance in North Valley, and there +was reason to believe that he might be intending trouble, doubtless the +company was keeping track of him. But Pedro was a law-abiding place, and +he would be protected in his rights so long as he behaved himself. + +Hal replied by citing what MacKellar had told him about men being +slugged on the streets in broad day-light. To this Mr. Perkins answered +that there was uncertainty about the circumstances of these cases; +anyhow, they had happened before he became mayor. His was a reform +administration, and he had given strict orders to the Chief of Police +that 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, and +it was a shame to torment him; but Hal stuck to him for ten or twenty +minutes longer, arguing and insisting--until finally the little rodent +bolted for the door, and made his escape in an automobile. “You can go +to the Chief of Police yourself,” were his last words, as he started the +machine; 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 in +this same building, the entrance being just round the corner. He went +in, and found a man in uniform writing at a desk, who stated that the +Chief had “stepped down the street.” Hal sat down to wait, by a window +through which he could look out upon the three gunmen loitering across +the way. + +The man at the desk wrote on, but now and then he eyed the young miner +with that hostility which American policemen cultivate toward the lower +classes. To Hal this was a new phenomenon, and he found himself suddenly +wishing that he had put on MacKellar’s clothes. Perhaps a policeman +would not have noticed the misfit! + +The Chief came in. His blue uniform concealed a burly figure, and his +moustache revealed the fact that his errand down the street had had to +do 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 hostile +voice. + +“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, if +you’ll step to the window.” + +But the other made no move. “I reckon if they’re follerin’ you, they’ve +got some reason for it. Have you been makin’ trouble in the camps?” He +asked this question with sudden force, as if it had occurred to him that +it might be his duty to lock up Hal. + +“No,” said Hal, speaking as bravely as he could--“no indeed, I haven’t +been 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 no +love 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 matter +keepin’ order in coal-camps, and I ain’t going to meddle in the +business. I reckon the company detectives has got as good a right in +this town as you.” + +There was a pause. Hal saw that there was nothing to be gained by +further discussion with the Chief. It was his first glimpse of the +American policeman as he appears to the labouring man in revolt, and he +found it an illuminating experience. There was dynamite in his heart as +he turned and went out to the street; nor was the amount of the +explosive diminished by the mocking grins which he noted upon the faces +of Pete Hanun and the other two husky-looking personages. + + + +SECTION 8. + +Hal judged that he had now exhausted his legal resources in Pedro; the +Chief of Police had not suggested any one else he might call upon, so +there seemed nothing he could do but go back to MacKellar’s and await +the hour of the night train to Western City. He started to give his +guardians another run, by way of working off at least a part of his own +temper; but he found that they had anticipated this difficulty. An +automobile came up and the three of them stepped in. Not to be outdone, +Hal engaged a hack, and so the expedition returned in pomp to +MacKellar’s. + +Hal found the old cripple in a state of perturbation. All that afternoon +his telephone had been ringing; one person after another had warned +him--some pleading with him, some abusing him. It was evident that among +them 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, general +manager of the “G. F. C.,” had been sending out messengers to hunt for +him, and finally had got him in his office, arguing and pleading, +cajoling and denouncing him by turns. He had got Cartwright on the +telephone, and the North Valley superintendent had laboured to convince +Keating that he had done the company a wrong. Cartwright had told a +story about Hal’s efforts to hold up the company for money. +“Incidentally,” said Keating, “he added the charge that you had seduced +a 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 at +me 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 the +usual thing, to drag in a woman. It’s so easy--for of course there +always _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 where +people can see you?” + +“Yes.” + +“So you see, they’ve got you. There’s nothing you can do about a thing +of 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 one +to protect her but a drunken father. I could understand that must have +made it pretty hard for her, in one of these coal-camps.” There was a +pause. “But see here,” said the reporter, “you’ll only do the girl harm +by making a row. Nobody believes that women in coal-camps have any +virtue. God knows, I don’t see how they do have, considering the sort of +men 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 his +eyes met Hal’s. “My dear boy,” said he, “I didn’t consider it my +business 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 a +good many years, and I knew his game.” + +“Thank you for that,” said Hal. “You may be interested to know there +isn’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 until +I’ve made Cartwright take it back.” + +“Well, you’re an enterprising cuss!” laughed the reporter. “Haven’t you +got enough on your hands, with all the men you’re going to get out of +the mine?” + + + +SECTION 9. + +Billy Keating went out again, saying that he knew a man who might be +willing to talk to him on the quiet, and give him some idea what was +going to happen to Hal. Meantime Hal and Edstrom sat down to dinner with +MacKellar. 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 of +MacKellar’s wife and daughter was apparent, and this brought home to Hal +the terror of life in this coal-country. Here were American women, in an +American home, a home with evidences of refinement and culture; yet they +felt and acted as if they were Russian conspirators, in terror of +Siberia and the knout! + +The reporter was gone a couple of hours; when he came back, he brought +news. “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, it +was 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 of +town 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, or +murdered your great-grandmother in Tasmania. The point is, he’ll keep +you locked up till this trouble has blown over.” + +“Well,” said Hal, “I don’t want to be locked up. I want to go up to +Western City. I’m waiting for the train.” + +“You may have to wait till morning,” replied Keating. “There’s been +trouble on the railroad--a freight-car broke down and ripped up the +track; it’ll be some time before it’s clear.” + +They discussed this new problem back and forth. MacKellar wanted to get +in half a dozen friends and keep guard over Hal during the night; and +Hal had about agreed to this idea, when the discussion was given a new +turn by a chance remark of Keating’s. “Somebody else is tied up by the +railroad 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 whole +train. Think of it--dining-car, drawing-room car, two whole cars with +sleeping 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’ve +been on a trip to the Grand Canyon, I was told; there’s a baggage-car +with four automobiles.” + +“Is Old Peter with them?” + +“No, he’s in New York. Percy’s the host. He’s got one of his automobiles +out, 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 a +hundred and seven of his serfs are perishing in the mine! If I could +only have got him to say a word about the disaster! If I could even have +got 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 this +Mr. Percy Harrigan?’ He was looking into the store, over my head. ‘I’m a +reporter,’ I said, ‘and I’d like to ask you about the accident up at +North Valley.’ ‘Excuse me,’ he said, in a tone--gee, it makes your blood +cold to think of it! ‘Just a word,’ I pleaded. ‘I don’t give +interviews,’ he answered; and that was all--he continued looking over my +head, and everybody else staring in front of them. They had turned to +ice 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 an +aristocracy! When you looked at that car, the crowd in it and the airs +they wore, you’d think they’d been running the world since the time of +William the Conqueror. And Old Peter came into this country with a +pedlar’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 the +reporter. Then, after a minute, “Say, but there’s one girl in that bunch +that was the real thing! She sure did get me! You know all those fluffy +things they do themselves up in--soft and fuzzy, makes you think of +spring-time orchards. This one was exactly the colour of +apple-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, it +makes my little heart go pit-a-pat. I always want to think they’re as +lovely 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 of +posing; 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 with +sudden curiosity. “See here,” he remarked, “I’ve been wondering about +you. How do you come to know so much about the psychology of the leisure +class?” + +“I used to have money once,” said Hal. “My family’s gone down as quickly +as the Harrigans have come up.” + + + +SECTION 10. + +Hal went on to question Keating about the apple-blossom girl. “Maybe I +could guess who she is. What colour was her hair?” + +“The colour of molasses taffy when you’ve pulled it,” said Billy; “but +all fluffy and wonderful, with star-dust in it. Her eyes were brown, and +her cheeks pink and cream.” + +“She had two rows of pearly white teeth, that flashed at you when she +smiled?” + +“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 flower +garden 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 one +of the current magazines!” He smiled; but then, seeing the other’s +curiosity, “Seriously, I think I do know your young lady. If you +announce that Miss Jessie Arthur is a member of the Harrigan party, you +won’t be taking a long chance.” + +“I can’t afford to take any chance at all,” said the reporter. “You mean +Robert 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 hardly +count the change?” + +“Gave her too much, several times!” + +“And you wondered if she was as good as she was beautiful! One day you +were thrilled with hope, the next you were cynical and bitter--till at +last you gave up in despair, and ran away to work in a coal-mine!” + +They laughed, and MacKellar and Edstrom joined in. But suddenly Keating +became 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. Think +what 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 the +train, and maybe I can get one of the porters to talk.” + +“Interview with the Coal King’s porter!” chuckled Hal. “How it feels to +make up a multi-millionaire’s bed!” + +“How it feels to sell stuffed dates to a banker’s daughter!” countered +the 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 money +for 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, the +District Judge, the Mayor and the Chief of Police. Now, why shouldn’t I +go 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 get +near him unless you’re well dressed.” + +“Are you sure of that? What I’ve got on might be the garb of a +railroad-hand. Suppose there was something out of order in one of the +cars--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, “it +doesn’t matter whether you succeed or not--it’s a story if you even make +the attempt. The Coal King’s son appealed to by one of his serfs! The +hard heart of Plutocracy rejects the cry of Labour!” + +“Yes,” said Hal, “but I really mean to get to him. Do you suppose he’s +got 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 exciting +conversation. “That ought to be just back of my house,” said the former. + +“It’s a short train--four parlour-cars and a baggage-car,” added +Keating. “It ought to be easy to recognise.” + +The old Scotchman put in an objection. “The difficulty may be to get out +of 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’s +get 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 interfere +with 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 get +about, and I think I can give an imitation. As for Mr. Keating, he’s not +easy 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, his +old voice trembling with excitement. “Maybe that’ll help to throw them +off the track.” + + + +SECTION 11. + +They had been sitting upstairs in MacKellar’s room. Now they rose, and +were starting for the stairs, when suddenly there came a ring at the +front door bell. They stopped and stared at one another. “There they +are!” whispered Keating. + +And MacKellar sat down suddenly, and held out his crutches to Hal. “The +hat 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 was +trembling. He was no longer young, and could not take adventure gaily. + +Hal and Keating ran downstairs, followed by Edstrom. Hal put on the coat +and hat, and they went to the back door, while at the same time Edstrom +answered 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 hobble +along with the crutches. He had to go at MacKellar’s slow pace--while +Keating, at his side, started talking. He informed “Mr. MacKellar,” in a +casual voice, that the _Gazette_ was a newspaper which believed in the +people’s cause, and was pledged to publish the people’s side of all +public questions. Discoursing thus, they went out of the gate and into +the alley. + +A man emerged from the shadows and walked by them. He passed within +three feet of Hal, and peered at him, narrowly. Fortunately there was no +moon; Hal could not see the man’s face, and hoped the man could not see +his. + +Meantime Keating was proceeding with his discourse. “You understand, Mr. +MacKellar,” he was saying, “sometimes it’s difficult to find out the +truth in a situation like this. When the interests are filling their +newspapers with falsehoods and exaggerations, it’s a temptation for us +to publish falsehoods and exaggerations on the other side. But we find +in 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 edifying +sermon. He was looking ahead, to where the alley debouched onto the +street. It was the street behind MacKellar’s house, and only a block +from the railroad-track. + +He dared not look behind, but he was straining his ears. Suddenly he +heard 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 the +alley, and were in the act of swerving, when a shot rang out and there +was a crash of glass in a house beyond them on the far side of the +street. + +Farther on was a vacant lot with a path running across it. Following +this, they dodged behind some shanties, and came to another street--and +so to the railroad tracks. There was a long line of freight-cars before +them, and they ran between two of these, and climbing over the +couplings, saw a great engine standing, its headlight gleaming full in +their eyes. They sprang in front of it, and alongside the train, passing +a 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 saw +a 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 the +steps and into the car. + +There was a long, narrow corridor, to be recognised as the kitchen +portion of a dining-car; at the other end of this corridor was a +swinging door, and to this Hal leaped. He heard the conductor shouting +to him to stop, but he paid no heed. He slipped off his over-coat and +hat; and then, pushing open the door, he entered a brightly lighted +apartment--and the presence of the Coal King’s son. + + + +SECTION 12. + +White linen and cut glass of the dining-saloon shone brilliantly under +electric lights, softened to the eye by pink shades. Seated at the +tables were half a dozen young men and as many young ladies, all in +evening costume; also two or three older ladies. They had begun the +first course of their meal, and were laughing and chatting, when +suddenly came this unexpected visitor, clad in coal-stained miner’s +jumpers. He was not disturbing in the manner of his entry; but +immediately behind him came a fat man, perspiring, wild of aspect, and +wheezing like an old fashioned steam-engine; behind him came the +conductor of the train, in a no less evident state of agitation. So, of +course, 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 step +forward. “What’s this?” he demanded, as one who had a right to demand. + +Hal advanced towards the speaker, a slender youth, correct in +appearance, but not distinguished looking. “Hello, Percy!” said Hal. + +A look of amazement came upon the other’s face. He stared, but seemed +unable to believe what he saw. And then suddenly came a cry from one of +the young ladies; the one having hair the colour of molasses taffy when +you’ve pulled it--but all fluffy and wonderful, with stardust in it. Her +cheeks were pink and cream, and her brown eyes gazed, wide open, full of +wonder. She wore a dinner gown of soft olive green, with a cream white +scarf 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 that +Billy Keating and the conductor were thrust to one side; and Jeff Cotton +appeared in the entrance. + +The camp-marshal was breathless, his face full of the passion of the +hunt. In his right hand he carried a revolver. He glared about him, and +saw the two men he was chasing; also he saw the Coal King’s son, and the +rest of the astonished company. He stood, stricken dumb. + +The door was pushed again, forcing him aside, and two more men crowded +in, both of them carrying revolvers in their hands. The foremost was +Pete Hanun, and he also stood staring. The “breaker of teeth” had two +teeth of his own missing, and when his prize-fighter’s jaw dropped down, +the deficiency became conspicuous. It was probably his first entrance +into society, and he was like an overgrown boy caught in the jam-closet. + +Percy Harrigan’s manner became distinctly imperious. “What does this +mean?” 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 is +my 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 a +gentleman, 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. I +suppose 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 get +out of sight behind his back. + +“And this,” continued Hal, “is Mr. Pete Hanun, by profession a breaker +of teeth. This other gentleman, whose name I don’t know, is presumably +an assistant-breaker.” So Hal went on, observing the forms of social +intercourse, his purpose being to give his mind a chance to work. So +much depended upon the tactics he chose in this emergency! Should he +take Percy to one side and tell him the story quietly, leaving it to his +sense of justice and humanity? No, that was not the way one dealt with +the Harrigans! They had bullied their way to the front; if anything were +done 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 the +situation, 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. “They +have no food or water, except what they had in their dinner-pails; and +it’s been three days and a half since the explosion! They are breathing +bad air; their heads are aching, the veins swelling in their foreheads; +their tongues are cracking, they are lying on the ground, gasping. But +they are waiting--kept alive by the faith they have in their friends on +the surface, who will try to get to them. They dare not take down the +barriers, because the gases would kill them at once. But they know the +rescuers 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. But +no such sign was given. Hal went on: + +“Think of it, Percy! There is one old man in that mine, an Irishman who +has a wife and eight children waiting to learn about his fate. I know +one woman who has a husband and three sons in the mine. For three days +and a half the women and children have been standing at the pit-mouth; I +have seen them sitting with their heads sunk upon their knees, or +shaking their fists, screaming curses at the criminal who is to blame.” + +There was a pause. “The criminal?” inquired young Harrigan. “I don’t +understand!” + +“You’ll hardly be able to believe it; but nothing has been done to +rescue these men. The criminal has nailed a cover of boards over the +pit-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 fire +in the mine; if the fan is set to working, the coal will burn. But at +the same time, some of the passages could be got clear of smoke, and +some of the men could be rescued. So it’s a question of property against +lives; and the criminal has decided for the property. He proposes to +wait a week, two weeks, until the fire has been smothered; _then_ of +course the men and boys will be dead.” + +There was a silence. It was broken by young Harrigan. “Who has done +this?” + +“His name is Enos Cartwright.” + +“But who _is_ he?” + +“Just now when I said that I was seeking the criminal, I misled you a +little, Percy. I did it because I wanted to collect my thoughts.” Hal +paused: when he continued, his voice was sharper, his sentences falling +like blows. “The criminal I’ve been telling you about is the +superintendent of the mine--a man employed and put in authority by the +General Fuel Company. The one who is being chased is not the one who +sealed up the mine, but the one who proposed to have it opened. He is +being treated as a malefactor, because the laws of the state, as well as +the 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 from +thugs and gunmen in the company’s employ!” + + + +SECTION 13. + +Knowing these people well, Hal could measure the effect of the +thunderbolt he had hurled among them. They were people to whom good +taste was the first of all the virtues; he knew how he was offending +them. If he was to win them to the least extent, he must explain his +presence here--a trespasser upon the property of the Harrigans. + +“Percy,” he continued, “you remember how you used to jump on me last +year at college, because I listened to ‘muck-rakers.’ You saw fit to +take 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 saw +the explosion; I saw this man, Jeff Cotton, driving women and children +away from the pit-mouth with blows and curses. I set out to help the men +in the mine, and the marshal rushed me out of camp. He told me that if I +didn’t go about my business, something would happen to me on a dark +night. And you see--this is a dark night!” + +Hal waited, to give young Harrigan a chance to grasp this situation and +to take command. But apparently young Harrigan was not aware of the +presence of the camp-marshal and his revolver. Hal tried again: + +“Evidently these men wouldn’t have minded killing me; they fired at me +just now. The marshal still has the revolver and you can smell the +powder-smoke. So I took the liberty of entering your car, Percy. It was +to save my life, and you’ll have to excuse me.” + +The Coal King’s son had here a sudden opportunity to be magnanimous. He +made haste to avail himself of it. “Of course, Hal,” he said. “It was +quite all right to come here. If our employés were behaving in such +fashion, it was without authority, and they will surely pay for it.” He +spoke with quiet certainty; it was the Harrigan manner, and before it +Jeff 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 to +have 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 the +mine! They are dying, and every moment is precious. It will take a day +at least to get to them, so they’ll be at their last gasp. Whatever’s to +be done must be done at once.” + +Again Hal waited--until the pause became awkward. The diners had so far +been looking at him; but now they were looking at young Harrigan, and +young Harrigan felt the change. + +“I don’t know just what you expect of me, Hal. My father employs +competent men to manage his business, and I certainly don’t feel that I +know enough to give them any suggestions.” This again in the Harrigan +manner; 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 start +it. That will draw out the smoke and gases, and the rescuers can go +down.” + +“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 officers +of 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 the +situation--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 easy +enough. Here is your train, your engine with steam up; have us switched +onto 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 all +their lives in mines, who’ve seen accidents like this many times, and +who 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 of +dollars’ 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 those +bosses 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. His +gaze, moving from one face to another, rested upon the magazine-cover +countenance, 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. The +brown eyes dropped. “I don’t understand such things, Hal!” + +“But, Jessie, I am explaining them! Here are men and boys being +suffocated 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 unless +I knew.” + +Still she hesitated. And there came a swift note of feeling into his +voice: “Jessie, dear!” + +As if under a spell, the girl’s eyes were raised to his; he saw a +scarlet flame of embarrassment spreading over her throat and cheeks. +“Jessie, I know--it seems an intolerable thing to ask! You’ve never been +rude to a friend. But I remember once you forgot your good manners, when +you saw a rough fellow on the street beating an old drudge-horse. Don’t +you remember how you rushed at him--like a wild thing! And now--think of +it, dear, here are old drudge-creatures being tortured to death; but not +horses--working-men!” + +Still the girl gazed at him. He could read grief, dismay in her eyes; he +saw tears steal from them, and stream down her cheeks. “Oh, I don’t +know, I don’t _know!_” she cried; and hid her face in her hands, and +began to sob aloud. + + + +SECTION 14. + +There was a painful pause. Hal’s gaze travelled on, and came to a +grey-haired lady in a black dinner-gown, with a rope of pearls about her +neck. “Mrs. Curtis! Surely _you_ will advise him!” + +The grey-haired lady started--was there no limit to his impudence? She +had witnessed the torturing of Jessie. But Jessie was his fiancée; he +had no such claim upon Mrs. Curtis. She answered, with iciness in her +tone: “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 cats +and dogs!” These words rose to Hal’s lips; but he did not say them. His +eyes moved on. Who else might help to bully a Harrigan? + +Next to Mrs. Curtis sat Reggie Porter, with a rose in the button-hole of +his dinner-jacket. Hal knew the rôle in which Reggie was there--a kind +of male chaperon, an assistant host, an admirer to the wealthy, a solace +to the bored. Poor Reggie lived other people’s lives, his soul +perpetually a-quiver with other people’s excitements, with gossip, +preparations for tea-parties, praise of tea-parties past. And always the +soul was pushing; calculating, measuring opportunities, making up in +tact and elegance for distressing lack of money. Hal got one swift +glimpse of the face; the sharp little black moustaches seemed standing +up with excitement, and in a flash of horrible intuition Hal read the +situation--Reggie was expecting to be questioned, and had got ready an +answer that would increase his social capital in the Harrigan family +bank! + +Across the aisle sat Genevieve Halsey: tall, erect, built on the scale +of a statue. You thought of the ox-eyed Juno, and imagined stately +emotions; but when you came to know Genevieve, you discovered that her +mind was slow, and entirely occupied with herself. Next to her was Bob +Creston, smooth-shaven, rosy-cheeked, exuding well-being--what is called +a “good fellow,” with a wholesome ambition to win cups for his athletic +club, 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 love +with a cousin of Percy’s, Betty Gunnison, who sat across the table from +him--and Hal saw her black eyes shining, her little fists clenched +tightly, her lips pressed white. Hal understood Betty--she was one of +the Harrigans, working at the Harrigan family task of making the +children of a pack-pedlar into leaders in the “younger set!” + +Next sat “Vivie” Cass, whose talk was of horses and dogs and such +ungirlish matters; Hal had discussed social questions in her presence, +and heard her view expressed in one flashing sentence--“If a man eats +with his knife, I consider him my personal enemy!” Over her shoulder +peered the face of a man with pale eyes and yellow moustaches--Bert +Atkins, 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; and +Blanche Vagleman, whose father was Old Peter’s head lawyer, whose +brother was the local counsel, and publisher of the Pedro _Star_. + +So Hal’s eyes moved from face to face, and his mind from personality to +personality. It was like the unrolling of a scroll; a panorama of a +world he had half forgotten. He had no time for reflection, but one +impression came to him, swift and overwhelming. Once he had lived in +this world and taken it as a matter of course. He had known these +people, gone about with them; they had seemed friendly, obliging, a good +sort of people on the whole. And now, what a change! They seemed no +longer friendly! Was the change in them? Or was it Hal who had become +cynical--so that he saw them in this terrifying new light, cold, and +unconcerned 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 that +Percy was white with anger. “I assure you, Hal, there’s no use going on +with 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 the +situation?” + +“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 and +defiant. + +“In what way?” + +“The company’s doing everything to get the mine open, and has been from +the beginning.” + +“Oh!” And there was triumph in Percy’s voice. “What is the cause of the +delay?” + +“The fan was broken, and we had to send for a new one. It’s a job to set +it 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. She +would 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 word +to say to you alone.” + +There was just a hint of menace in Hal’s voice; his gaze went to the far +end of the car, a space occupied only by two negro waiters. These +retired in haste as the young men moved towards them; and so, having the +Coal 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 his +class-mates. He was not brutal, like his grim old father; he was merely +self-indulgent, as one who had always had everything; he was weak, as +one who had never had to take a bold resolve. He had been brought up by +the women of the family, to be a part of what they called “society”; in +which process he had been given high notions of his own importance. The +life of the Harrigans was dominated by one painful memory--that of a +pedlar’s pack; and Hal knew that Percy’s most urgent purpose was to be +regarded as a real and true and freehanded aristocrat. It was this +knowledge Hal was using in his attack. + +He began with apologies, attempting to soothe the other’s anger. He had +not meant to make a scene like this; it was the gunmen who had forced +it, putting his life in danger. It was the very devil, being chased +about at night and shot at! He had lost his nerve, really; he had forgot +what little manners he had been able to keep as a miner’s buddy. He had +made a spectacle of himself; good Lord yes, he realised how he must +seem! + +--And Hal looked at his dirty miner’s jumpers, and then at Percy. He +could see that Percy was in hearty agreement thus far--he had indeed +made a spectacle of himself, and of Percy too! Hal was sorry about this +latter, but here they were, in a pickle, and it was certainly too late +now. This story was out--there could be no suppressing it! Hal might sit +down on his reporter-friend, Percy might sit down on the waiters and the +conductor and the camp-marshal and the gunmen--but he could not possibly +sit down on all his friends! They would talk about nothing else for +weeks! 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 private +car of the Coal King’s son! + +“And you must see, Percy,” Hal went on, “it’s the sort of thing that +sticks to a man. It’s the thing by which everybody will form their idea +of you as long as you live!” + +“I’ll take my chances with my friends’ criticism,” said the other, with +some 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 will +say, He decided for the lives. Surely, Percy, your family doesn’t need +those particular dollars so badly! Why, you’ve spent more on this one +train-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’t +understand it otherwise, say to yourself that you are dealing with a man +who’s irresponsible. I’ve seen so many terrible things--I’ve been chased +around so much by camp-marshals--why, Percy, that man Cotton has six +notches on his gun! I’m simply crazy!” And into the brown eyes of this +miner’s buddy came a look wild enough to convince a stronger man than +Percy Harrigan. “I’ve got just one idea left in the world, Percy--to +save those miners! You make a mistake unless you realise how desperate I +am. So far I’ve done this thing incog! I’ve been Joe Smith, a miner’s +buddy. If I’d come out and told my real name--well, maybe I wouldn’t +have made them open the mine, but at least I’d have made a lot of +trouble for the G. F. C.! But I didn’t do it; I knew what a scandal it +would make, and there was something I owed my father. But if I see +there’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 him +I threatened to turn this man Keating loose and blow the thing wide +open--denounce the company, appeal to the Governor, raise a disturbance +and get arrested on the street, if necessary, in order to force the +facts before the public. You see, I’ve got the facts, Percy! I’ve been +there 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 a +pleasure trip when you heard of this disaster; you rushed up and took +command, you opened the mine, you saved the lives of your employés. That +is 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 had +learned that it is not aristocratic to be picturesque. + +“All right then!” said Hal, quickly. “If you prefer, you needn’t be +mentioned. The bosses up at the camp have the reporters under their +thumbs, they’ll handle the story any way you want it. The one thing I +care about is that you run your car up and see the mine opened. Won’t +you do it, Percy?” + +Hal was gazing into the other’s eyes, knowing that life and death for +the 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 will +be worse?” + +Again there was a silence. “Come along, Percy! For God’s sake!” And +Hal’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 there +to let them fool you! They’ll try to bluff you out--they may go as far +as 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 till +the 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’ll +know 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 knew +that when they arrived at the mine the superintendent was summoned to a +consultation, and half an hour later Percy emerged smiling, with the +announcement that Hal Warner had been mistaken all along; the mine +authorities had been making all possible haste to get the fan ready, +with the intention of opening the mine at the earliest moment. The work +was now completed, and in an hour or two the fan was to be started, and +by morning there would be a chance of rescuers getting in. Percy said +this so innocently that for a moment Hal wondered if Percy himself might +not believe it. Hal’s position as guest of course required that he +should graciously pretend to believe it, consenting to appear as a fool +before the rest of the company. + +Percy invited Hal and Billy Keating to spend the night in the train; but +this Hal declined. He was too dirty, he said; besides, he wanted to be +up at daylight, to be one of the first to go down the shaft. Percy +answered that the superintendent had vetoed this proposition--he did not +want any one to go down but experienced men, who could take care of +themselves. When there were so many on hand ready and eager to go, there +was no need to imperil the lives of amateurs. + +At the risk of seeming ungracious, Hal declared that he would “hang +around” and see them take the cover off the pit-mouth. There were +mourning parties in some of the cabins, where women were gathered +together who could not sleep, and it would be an act of charity to take +them the good news. + +Hal and Keating set out; they went first to the Rafferties’, and saw +Mrs. Rafferty spring up and stare at them, and then scream aloud to the +Holy Virgin, waking all the little Rafferties to frightened clamour. +When the woman had made sure that they really knew what they were +talking about, she rushed out to spread the news, and so pretty soon the +streets were alive with hurrying figures, and a crowd gathered once more +at the pit-mouth. + +Hal and Keating went on to Jerry Minetti’s. Out of a sense of loyalty to +Percy, Hal did no more than repeat Percy’s own announcement, that it had +been Cartwright’s intention all along to have the mine opened. It was +funny to see the effect of this statement--the face with which Jerry +looked at Hal! But they wasted no time in discussion; Jerry slipped into +his clothes and hurried with them to the pit-mouth. + +Sure enough, a gang was already tearing off the boards and canvas. Never +since Hal had been in North Valley had he seen men working with such a +will! Soon the great fan began to stir, and then to roar, and then to +sing; and there was a crowd of a hundred people, roaring and singing +also. + +It would be some hours before anything more could be done; and suddenly +Hal realised that he was exhausted. He and Billy Keating went back to +the Minetti cabin, and spreading themselves a blanket on the floor, lay +down with sighs of relief. As for Billy, he was soon snoring; but to Hal +there came sudden reaction from all the excitement, and sleep was far +from him. + +An ocean of thoughts came flooding into his mind: the world outside, +_his_ world, which he had banished deliberately for several months, and +which he had so suddenly been compelled to remember! It had seemed so +simple, what he had set out to do that summer: to take another name, to +become a member of another class, to live its life and think its +thoughts, and then come back to his own world with a new and fascinating +adventure to tell about! The possibility that his own world, the world +of Hal Warner, might find him out as Joe Smith, the miner’s buddy--that +was a possibility which had never come to his mind. He was like a +burglar, working away at a job in darkness, and suddenly finding the +room flooded with light. + +He had gone into the adventure, prepared to find things that would shock +him; 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 the +class-war, leading a charge upon the trenches of his own associates. Nor +was this the end, he knew; this war would not be settled by the winning +of a trench! Lying here in the darkness and silence, Hal was realising +what he had got himself in for. To employ another simile, he was a man +who begins a flirtation on the street, and wakes up next morning to find +himself 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 North +Valley people for ten weeks, he had known the occupants of Percy’s car +for as many years. So these latter personalities loomed large in his +consciousness, and here in the darkness their thoughts about him, +whether actively hostile or passively astonished, laid siege to the +defences of his mind. + +Particularly he found himself wrestling with Jessie Arthur. Her face +rose up before him, appealing, yearning. She had one of those perfect +faces, which irresistibly compel the soul of a man. Her brown eyes, soft +and shining, full of tenderness; her lips, quick to tremble with +emotion; her skin like apple-blossoms, her hair with star-dust in it! +Hal was cynical enough about coal-operators and mine-guards, but it +never occurred to him that Jessie’s soul might be anything but what +these bodily charms implied. He was in love with her; and he was too +young, too inexperienced in love to realise that underneath the +sweetness 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, and +to suffer much, before he understands that the charms of women, those +rare and magical perfections of eyes and teeth and hair, that softness +of skin and delicacy of feature, have cost labour and care of many +generations, and imply inevitably that life has been feral, that customs +and conventions have been murderous and inhuman. + +Jessie had failed Hal in his desperate emergency. But now he went over +the scene, and told himself that the test had been an unfair one. He had +known her since childhood, and loved her, and never before had he seen +an act or heard a word that was not gracious and kind. But--so he told +himself--she gave her sympathy to those she knew; and what chance had +she ever had to know working-people? He must give her the chance; he +must compel her, even against her will, to broaden her understanding of +life! The process might hurt her, it might mar the unlined softness of +her 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 absorbed +in long conversation with his sweetheart. He escorted her about the +camp, explaining things to her, introducing her to this one and that. He +took others of his private-car friends and introduced them to his North +Valley friends. There were individuals who had qualities in common, and +would surely hit it off! Bob Creston, for example, who was good at a +“song and dance”--he would surely be interested in “Blinky,” the +vaudeville specialist of the camp! Mrs. Curtis, who liked cats, would +find a bond of sisterhood with old Mrs. Nagle, who lived next door to +the Minettis, and kept five! And even Vivie Cass, who hated men who ate +with their knives--she would be driven to murder by the table-manners of +Reminitsky’s boarders, but she would take delight in “Dago Charlie,” the +tobacco-chewing mule which had once been Hal’s pet! Hal could hardly +wait for daylight to come, so that he might begin these efforts at +social amalgamation! + + + +SECTION 17. + +Towards dawn Hal fell asleep; he was awakened by Billy Keating, who sat +up yawning, at the same time grumbling and bewailing. Hal realised that +Billy also had discovered troubles during the night. Never in all his +career as a journalist had he had such a story; never had any man had +such a story--and it must be killed! + +Cartwright had got the reporters together late the night before and told +them the news--that the company had at last succeeded in getting the +mine ready to be opened; also that young Mr. Harrigan was there in his +private train, prompted by his concern for the entombed miners. The +reporters 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 thrown +out of camp for insubordination had turned out to be the son of Edward +S. Warner, the “coal magnate.” + +A fine, cold rain was falling, and Hal borrowed an old coat of Jerry’s +and slipped it on. Little Jerry clamoured to go with him, and after some +controversy Hal wrapped him in a shawl and slung him onto his shoulder. +It was barely daylight, but already the whole population of the village +was on hand at the pit-mouth. The helmet-men had gone down to make +tests, so the hour of final revelation was at hand. Women stood with wet +shawls about their hunched shoulders, their faces white and strained, +their suspense too great for any sort of utterance. A ghastly thought it +was, that while they were shuddering in the wet, their men below might +be expiring for lack of a few drops of water! + +The helmet-men, coming up, reported that lights would burn at the bottom +of the shaft; so it was safe for men to go down without helmets, and the +volunteers of the first rescue party made ready. All night there had +been a clattering of hammers, where the carpenters were working on a new +cage. Now it was swung from the hoist, and the men took their places in +it. When at last the hoist began to move, and the group disappeared +below the surface of the ground, you could hear a sigh from a thousand +throats, like the moaning of wind in a pine-tree. They were leaving +women and children above, yet not one of these women would have asked +them to stay--such was the deep unconscious bond of solidarity which +made these toilers of twenty nations one! + +It was a slow process, letting down the cage; on account of the danger +of gas, and the newness of the cage, it was necessary to proceed a few +feet at a time, waiting for a pull upon the signal-cord to tell that the +men were all right. After they had reached the bottom, there would be +more time, no one could say how long, before they came upon survivors +with signs of life in them. There were bodies near the foot of the +shaft, according to the reports of the helmet-men, but there was no use +delaying to bring these up, for they must have been dead for days. Hal +saw a crowd of women clamouring about the helmet-men, trying to find out +if these bodies had been recognised. Also he saw Jeff Cotton and Bud +Adams at their old duty of driving the women back. + +The cage returned for a second load of men. There was less need of +caution now; the hoist worked quickly, and group after group of men with +silent, set faces, and pickaxes and crow-bars and shovels in their +hands, went down into the pit of terror. They would scatter through the +workings, testing everywhere ahead of them with safety-lamps, and +looking for barriers erected by the imprisoned men for defence against +the gases. As they hammered on these barriers, perhaps they would hear +the signals of living men on the other side; or they would break through +in silence, and find men too far gone to make a sound, yet possibly with +the spark of life still in them. + +One by one, Hal’s friends went down--“Big Jack” David, and Wresmak, the +Bohemian, Klowoski, the Pole, and finally Jerry Minetti. Little Jerry +waved his hand from his perch on Hal’s shoulder; while Rosa, who had +come out and joined them, was clinging to Hal’s arm, silent, as if her +soul were going down in the cage. There went blue-eyed Tim Rafferty to +look for his father, and black-eyed “Andy,” the Greek boy, whose father +had perished in a similar disaster years ago; there went Rovetta, and +Carmino, the pit-boss, Jerry’s cousin. One by one their names ran +through the crowd, as of heroes marching out to battle. + + + +SECTION 18. + +Looking about, Hal saw some of the guests of the Harrigan party. There +was Vivie Cass, standing under an umbrella with Bert Atkins; and there +was Bob Creston with Dicky Everson. These two had on mackintoshes and +water-proof hats, and were talking to Cartwright; tall, immaculate men, +who seemed like creatures of another world beside the stunted and +coal-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 him +off his shoulder. + +“Hello, kid!” said Bob. + +And the answer came promptly, “Hello, yourself!” Little Jerry knew how +to talk American; he was a match for any society man! “My father’s went +down in that cage,” said he, looking up at the tall stranger, his bright +black 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! “Maybe +you’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 a +miners’ union.” + +Again they laughed; but Rosa gave a nervous whisper and caught at the +child’s sleeve. That was not the sort of thing to say to mysterious and +rich-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 off +their hats with elaborate bows; they stared, for Rosa was a pretty +object as she blushed and made her shy response. She was much +embarrassed, having never before in her life been bowed to by men like +these. + +And here they were greeting Joe Smith as an old friend, and calling him +by a strange name! She turned her black Italian eyes upon Hal in +inquiry, and he felt a flush creeping over him. It was almost as +uncomfortable to be found out by North Valley as to be found out by +Western City! + +The men talked about the rescue-work, and what Cartwright had been +telling of its progress. The fire was in one of the main passages, and +was burning out the timbering, spreading rapidly under the draft from +the reversed fan. There could be little hope of rescue in this part of +the mine, but the helmet-men would defy the heat and smoke in the burned +out passages. They knew how likely was the collapse of such portions of +the mine; but also they knew that men had been working here before the +explosion. “I must say they’re a game lot!” remarked Dicky. + +A group of women and children were gathered about to listen, their +shyness overcome by their torturing anxiety for news. They made one +think of women in war-time, listening to the roar of distant guns and +waiting for the bringing in of the wounded. Hal saw Bob and Dicky glance +now and then at the ring of faces about them; they were getting +something of this mood, and that was a part of what he had desired for +them. + +“Are the others coming out?” he asked. + +“I don’t know,” said Bob. “I suppose they’re having breakfast. It’s time +we went in.” + +“Won’t you come with us?” added Dicky. + +“No, thanks,” replied Hal, “I’ve an engagement with the kid here.” And +he gave Little Jerry’s hand a squeeze. “But tell some of the other +fellows 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 to +finish breakfast, Hal went down to the tracks, and induced the porter to +take in his name to Percy Harrigan. He was hoping to persuade Percy to +see the village under other than company chaperonage; he heard with +dismay the announcement that the party had arranged to depart in the +course 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 is +there we can do?” + +“I wanted you to talk to the people and learn something about conditions +here. You ought not to lose this chance, Percy!” + +“That’s all right, Hal, but you might understand this isn’t a convenient +time. I’ve got a lot of people with me, and I’ve no right to ask them to +wait.” + +“But can’t they learn something also, Percy?” + +“It’s raining,” was the reply; “and ladies would hardly care to stand +round in a crowd and see dead bodies brought out of a mine.” + +Hal got the rebuke. Yes, he had grown callous since coming to North +Valley; he had lost that delicacy of feeling, that intuitive +understanding of the sentiments of ladies, which he would surely have +exhibited a short time earlier in his life. He was excited about this +disaster; it was a personal thing to him, and he lost sight of the fact +that to the ladies of the Harrigan party it was, in its details, merely +sordid and repelling. If they went out in the mud and rain of a +mining-village and stood about staring, they would feel that they were +exhibiting, not human compassion, but idle curiosity. The sights they +would see would harrow them to no purpose; and incidentally they would +be exposing themselves to distressing publicity. As for offering +sympathy to widows and orphans--well, these were foreigners mostly, who +could not understand what was said to them, and who might be more +embarrassed than helped by the intrusion into their grief of persons +from an alien world. + +The business of offering sympathy had been reduced to a system by the +civilisation which these ladies helped to maintain; and, as it happened, +there was one present who was familiar with this system. Mrs. Curtis had +already acted, so Percy informed Hal; she had passed about a +subscription-paper, and in a couple of minutes over a thousand dollars +had been pledged. This would be paid by check to the “Red Cross,” whose +agents would understand how to distribute relief among such sufferers. +So the members of Percy’s party felt that they had done the proper and +delicate 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 to +go to a dinner that evening, and would barely be able to make it. Bert +Atkins was to play a challenge match at billiards, and Mrs. Curtis was +to attend a committee meeting of a woman’s club. Also it was the last +Friday of the month; had Hal forgotten what that meant? + +After a moment Hal remembered--the “Young People’s Night” at the country +club! He had a sudden vision of the white colonial mansion on the +mountain-side, with its doors and windows thrown wide, and the strains +of an orchestra floating out. In the ball-room the young ladies of +Percy’s party would appear--Jessie, his sweetheart, among them--gowned +in filmy chiffons and laces, floating in a mist of perfume and colour +and music. They would laugh and chatter, they would flirt and scheme +against one another for the sovereignty of the ball-room--while here in +North Valley the sobbing widows would be clutching their mangled dead in +their arms! How strange, how ghastly it seemed! How like the scenes one +read of on the eve of the French Revolution! + + + +SECTION 20. + +Percy wanted Hal to come away with the party. He suggested this +tactfully at first, and then, as Hal did not take the hint, he began to +press the matter, showing signs of irritation. The mine was open +now--what more did Hal want? When Hal suggested that Cartwright might +order it closed again, Percy revealed the fact that the matter was in +his father’s hands. The superintendent had sent a long telegram the +night before, and an answer was due at any moment. Whatever the answer +ordered would have to be done. + +There was a grim look upon Hal’s face, but he forced himself to speak +politely. “If your father orders anything that interferes with the +rescuing 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 this +whole story wide open.” + +“Well, by God!” cried young Harrigan. “I must say I’d call it damned +dirty of you! You said you’d not do it, if I’d come here and open the +mine!” + +“But what good does it do to open it, if you close it again before the +men are out?” Hal paused, and when he went on it was in a sincere +attempt at apology. “Percy, don’t imagine I fail to appreciate the +embarrassments of this situation. I know I must seem a cad to you--more +than you’ve cared to tell me. I called you my friend in spite of all our +quarrels. All I can do is to assure you that I never intended to get +into such a position as this.” + +“Well, what the hell did you want to come here for? You knew it was the +property of a friend--” + +“That’s the question at issue between us, Percy. Have you forgotten our +arguments? I tried to convince you what it meant that you and I should +own the things by which other people have to live. I said we were +ignorant of the conditions under which our properties were worked, we +were a bunch of parasites and idlers. But you laughed at me, called me a +crank, an anarchist, said I swallowed what any muck-raker fed me. So I +said: ‘I’ll go to one of Percy’s mines! Then, when he tries to argue +with 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 man +with a drop of red blood in his veins could stay in this place a week +without wanting to fight! That’s why I want you to stay--you ought to +stay, 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 is +that I wish you’d go somewhere else to do your sociology.” + +“But where could I go, Percy? Somebody owns everything. If it’s a big +thing, it’s almost certain to be somebody we know.” + +Said Percy, “If I might make a suggestion, you could have begun with the +coal-mines of the Warner Company.” + +Hal laughed. “You may be sure I thought of that, Percy. But see the +situation! If I was to accomplish my purpose, it was essential that I +shouldn’t be known. And I had met some of my father’s superintendents in +his office, and I knew they’d recognise me. So I _had_ to go to some +other 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 the +Warner Company permanently out of my sociology.” + +“Well,” replied the other, “all I can say is that we pass one of their +properties on our way back, and nothing would please me better than to +stop the train and let you off!” + + + +SECTION 21. + +Hal went into the drawing-room car. There were Mrs. Curtis and Reggie +Porter, playing bridge with Genevieve Halsey and young Everson. Bob +Creston was chatting with Betty Gunnison, telling her what he had seen +outside, no doubt. Bert Atkins was looking over the morning paper, +yawning. Hal went on, seeking Jessie Arthur, and found her in one of the +compartments of the car, looking out of the rain-drenched +window--learning about a mining-camp in the manner permitted to young +ladies of her class. + +He expected to find her in a disturbed state of mind, and was prepared +to 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 had +heard 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 you +suffer so much, Jessie?” + +He saw tears start into her eyes. “Haven’t you _known_ you were making +me suffer? Here I was as Percy’s guest; and to have you put such +questions 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 into +it. But the matter was so complicated and so sudden. Can’t you +understand that, and forgive me? Everything has turned out so well!” + +But she did not think that everything had turned out well. “In the first +place, for you to be here, in such a plight! And when I thought you were +hunting mountain-goats in Mexico!” + +He could not help laughing; but Jessie had not even a smile. “And +then--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 done +such a thing, and not realise how terrible it was! To put her in a +position where she had to break either the laws of love or the laws of +good-breeding! Why, it had amounted to a public quarrel. It would be the +talk of the town--there was no end to the embarrassment of it! + +“But, sweetheart!” argued Hal. “Try to see the reality of this +thing--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 upon +his youthful face. Also, she caught the note of suppressed passion in +his voice. He was pale and weary looking, in dirty clothes, his hair +unkempt and his face only half washed. It was terrifying--as if he had +gone to war. + +“Listen to me, Jessie,” he insisted. “I want you to know about these +things. If you and I are ever to make each other happy, you must try to +grow up with me. That was why I was glad to have you here--you would +have a chance to see for yourself. Now I ask you not to go without +seeing.” + +“But I have to go, Hal. I can’t ask Percy Harrigan to stay and +inconvenience everybody!” + +“You can stay without him. You can ask one of the ladies to chaperon +you.” + +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 would +never forgive any one who stayed with me. And what would Percy say, if I +came here as his guest, and stayed to spy on him and his father? Don’t +you see how preposterous it would be?” + +Yes, he saw. He was defying all the conventions of her world, and it +seemed to her a course of madness. She clutched his hands in hers, and +the tears ran down her cheeks. + +“Hal,” she cried, “I can’t leave you in this dreadful place! You look +like a ghost, and a scarecrow, too! I want you to go and get some decent +clothes 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 my +life, I’ve been living on the labour of coal-miners, and I’ve never +taken 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 their +toil, 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 to +do 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 these +officials meant to murder their working people! As if Mr. Harrigan would +let 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 know +about 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 what +you’re doing?” + +“Yes, dear, I fear so.” + +“And you set yourself up against them--against everybody you know! Is it +reasonable to think the older people are all wrong, and only you are +right? Isn’t it at least possible you’re making a mistake? Think about +it--honestly, Hal, for my sake!” + +She was looking at him pleadingly; and he leaned forward and took her +hand. “Jessie,” he said, his voice trembling, “I _know_ that these +working people are oppressed; I know it, because I have been one of +them! And I know that such men as Peter Harrigan, and even my own +brother, are to blame! And they’ve got to be faced by some one--they’ve +got to be made to see! I’ve come to see it clearly this summer--that’s +the job I have to do!” + +She was gazing at him with her wide-open, beautiful eyes; underneath her +protests and her terror, she was thrilling with awe at this amazing +madman she loved. “They will _kill_ you!” she cried. + +“No, dearest--you don’t need to worry about that--I don’t think they’ll +kill me.” + +“But they shot at you!” + +“No, they shot at Joe Smith, a miner’s buddy. They won’t shoot at the +son 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, and +everybody knows it. There’s no way they could kill me without the whole +story’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 must +have knowledge forced upon her, whether she would or no. The train would +not start for a couple of hours, and he tried to think of some use he +could make of that precious interval. He recalled that Rosa Minetti had +returned to her cabin to attend to her baby. A sudden vision came to him +of Jessie in that little home. Rosa was sweet and good, and assuredly +Little 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, and +he mightn’t like--” + +“I’ll ask him if he objects to your taking a stroll,” he suggested, with +pretended gravity. + +“No, no! That would make it worse!” Jessie had no humour whatever about +these matters. + +“Well, Vivie Cass was out, and some of the others are going. He hasn’t +objected 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! You +have a long train journey before you, and some fresh air will be good +for you.” + +She saw that she must make some concession to him, if she was to keep +any of her influence over him. + +“All right,” she said, with resignation, and disappeared and returned +with a heavy veil over her face, to conceal her from prying reportorial +eyes; also an equipment of mackintosh, umbrella and overshoes, against +the rain. The two stole out of the car, feeling like a couple of +criminals. + +Skirting the edge of the throng about the pit-mouth, they came to the +muddy, unpaved quarter in which the Italians had their homes; he held +her arm, steering her through the miniature sloughs and creeks. It was +thrilling to him to have her with him thus, to see her sweet face and +hear her voice full of love. Many a time he had thought of her here, and +told her in his imagination of his experiences! + +He told her now--about the Minetti family, and how he had met Big and +Little Jerry on the street, and how they had taken him in, and then been +driven 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 the +Minetti cabin, and the terrifying narrative was cut short. + +It was Little Jerry who came to the door, with the remains of breakfast +distributed upon his cheeks; he stared in wonder at the mysteriously +veiled figure. Entering, they saw Rosa sitting in a chair nursing her +baby. She rose in confusion; but she did not quite like to turn her back +upon her guests, so she stood trying to hide her breast as best she +could, blushing and looking very girlish and pretty. + +Hal introduced Jessie, as an old friend who was interested to meet his +new friends, and Jessie threw back her veil and sat down. Little Jerry +wiped off his face at his mother’s command, and then came where he could +stare at this incredibly lovely vision. + +“I’ve been telling Miss Arthur what good care you took of me,” said Hal +to Rosa. “She wanted to come and thank you for it.” + +“Yes,” added Jessie, graciously. “Anybody who is good to Hal earns my +gratitude.” + +Rosa started to murmur something; but Little Jerry broke in, with his +cheerful voice, “Why you call him Hal? His name’s Joe!” + +“Ssh!” cried Rosa. But Hal and Jessie laughed--and so the process of +Americanising Little Jerry was continued. + +“I’ve got lots of names,” said Hal. “They called me Hal when I was a kid +like you.” + +“Did _she_ know you then?” inquired Little Jerry. + +“Yes, indeed.” + +“Is she your girl?” + +Rosa laughed shyly, and Jessie blushed, and looked charming. She +realised vaguely a difference in manners. These people accepted the +existence 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 he +added, dropping his voice, “You gotta keep secrets if you work in North +Valley.” + +“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. My +father’s the best they got.” + +“What does he do?” + +“Well, they got a drill--long, long, like this, all the way across the +room; and they turn it and bore holes in the coal. Sometimes they got +machines to drill, only we don’t like them machines, ’cause it takes the +men’s jobs. When they got the holes, then the shot-firer comes and sets +off the powder. You gotta have--” and here Little Jerry slowed up, +pronouncing each syllable very carefully--“per-miss-i-ble powder--what +don’t make no flame. And you gotta know just how much to put in. If you +put in too much, you smash the coal, and the miner raises hell; if you +don’t put in enough, you make too much work for him, an’ he raises hell +again. So you gotta get a good shot-firer.” + +Jessie looked at Hal, and he saw that her dismay was mingled with +genuine amusement. He judged this a good way for her to get her +education, so he proceeded to draw out Little Jerry on other aspects of +coal-mining: on short weights and long hours, grafting bosses and +camp-marshals, company-stores and boarding-houses, Socialist agitators +and union organisers. Little Jerry talked freely of the secrets of the +camp. “It’s all right for you to know,” he remarked gravely. “You’re +Joe’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 won +by this little Dago mine-urchin, in spite of all his frightful +curse-words; and Hal saw that she was won, and was delighted by the +success of this experiment in social amalgamation. He could not read +Jessie’s mind, and realise that underneath her genuine delight were +reservations born of her prejudices, the instinctive cruelty of caste. +Yes, this little mine chap was a cherub, now; but how about when he grew +big? He would grow ugly and coarse-looking, in ten years one would not +know 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 a +proof that they are, in some deep and permanent way, the inferiors of +those above them. Hal was throwing away his time and strength, trying to +make them into something which Nature had obviously not intended them to +be! She decided to make that point to Hal on their way back to the +train. She realised that he had brought her here to educate her; like +all the rest of the world, she resented forcible education, and she was +not without hope that she might turn the tables and educate Hal. + +Pretty soon Rosa finished nursing the baby, and Jessie remarked the +little one’s black eyes. This topic broke down the mother’s shyness, and +they were chatting pleasantly, when suddenly they heard sounds outside +which caused them to start up. It was a clamour of women’s voices; and +Hal and Rosa sprang to the door. Just now was a critical time, when +every one was on edge for news. + +Hal threw open the door and called to those outside “What is it?” There +came 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, and +Johannson, the Swede. They’re near dead--can’t speak, they say. They +won’t let anybody near them.” + +Other voices broke in; but the one which answered Hal had a different +quality; it was a warm, rich voice, unmistakably Irish, and it held +Jessie’s attention. “They’ve got them in the tipple-room, and the women +want 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 in +a minute or so he entered again, supporting on his arm a girl, clad in a +faded 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 face +in her hands, sobbing, talking incoherently between her sobs. + +Jessie stood looking at this girl. She felt the intensity of her +excitement, and shared it; yet at the same time there was something in +Jessie that resented it. She did not wish to be upset about things like +this, which she could not help. Of course these unfortunate people were +suffering; but--what a shocking lot of noise the poor thing was making! +A part of the poor thing’s excitement was rage, and Jessie realised +that, and resented it still more. It was as if it were a personal +challenge to her; the same as Hal’s fierce social passions, which so +bewildered 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 their +best. The women couldn’t expect to crowd about them!” + +“Maybe they couldn’t; but that’s not it, Joe, and ye know it! They been +bringin’ up dead bodies, some they found where the explosion was--blown +all to pieces. And they won’t let anybody see them. Is that because of +the doctors? No, it ain’t! It’s because they want to tell lies about the +number killed! They want to count four or five legs to a man! And that’s +what’s drivin’ the women crazy! I saw Mrs. Zamboni, tryin’ to get into +the 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 all +in pieces!’ ‘I want the pieces!’ ‘What good’ll they do you? Are you +goin’ to eat him?’” + +There were cries of horror now, even from Jessie; and the strange girl +hid her face in her hands and began to sob again. Hal put his hand +gently on her arm. + +“Mary,” he pleaded, “it’s not so bad--at least they’re getting the +people out.” + +“How do ye know what they’re doin’? They might be sealin’ up parts of +the mine down below! That’s what makes it so horrible--nobody knows +what’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 hour +since they brought him up, and the poor lady can’t be told if her man is +alive.” + + + +SECTION 24. + +Hal stood for a few moments in thought. He was surprised that such +things should be happening while Percy Harrigan’s train was in the +village. He was considering whether he should go to Percy, or whether a +hint to Cotton or Cartwright would not be sufficient. + +“Mary,” he said, in a quiet voice, “you needn’t distress yourself so. We +can get better treatment for the women, I’m sure.” + +But her sobbing went on. “What can ye do? They’re bound to have their +way!” + +“No,” said Hal. “There’s a difference now. Believe me--something can be +done. 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. He +saw the latter’s hands fall from her tear-stained face, and her +expression of grief give way to one of wonder. “Hal!” + +“Excuse me,” he said, quickly. “Miss Burke, this is my friend, Miss +Arthur.” 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,” she +said, and smiled with perfect politeness. But Mary said nothing, and the +strained 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 a +mining-camp; reserved, yet obviously expensive--even in a mackintosh and +rubber-shoes. Mary was used to the expensiveness of Mrs. O’Callahan, but +here was a new kind of expensiveness, subtle and compelling, strangely +unconscious. And she laid claim to Joe Smith, the miner’s buddy! She +called him by a name hitherto unknown to his North Valley associates! It +needed no word from Little Jerry to guide Mary’s instinct; she knew in a +flash that here was the “other girl.” + +Mary was seized with sudden acute consciousness of the blue calico +dress, patched at the shoulder and stained with grease-spots; of her +hands, big and rough with hard labour; of her feet, clad in shoes worn +sideways at the heel, and threatening to break out at the toes. And as +for Jessie, she too had the woman’s instinct; she too saw a girl who was +beautiful, with a kind of beauty of which she did not approve, but which +she could not deny--the beauty of robust health, of abounding animal +energy. Jessie was not unaware of the nature of her own charms, having +been carefully educated to conserve them; nor did she fail to make note +of the other girl’s handicaps--the patched and greasy dress, the big +rough hands, the shoes worn sideways. But even so, she realised that +“Red Mary” had a quality which she lacked--that beside this wild rose of +a 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 to +him. She called him Joe! And a sudden fear had leaped into Jessie’s +heart. + +Like many girls who have been delicately reared, Jessie Arthur knew +more than she admitted, even to herself. She knew enough to realise +that young men with ample means and leisure are not always saints and +ascetics. Also, she had heard the remark many times made that these +women of the lower orders had “no morals.” Just what did such a remark +mean? What would be the attitude of such a girl as Mary +Burke--full-blooded and intense, dissatisfied with her lot in life--to +a man of culture and charm like Hal? She would covet him, of course; no +woman who knew him could fail to covet him. And she would try to steal +him away from his friends, from the world to which he belonged, the +future of happiness and ease to which he was entitled. She would have +powers--dark and terrible powers, all the more appalling to Jessie +because they were mysterious. Might they possibly be able to overcome +even the handicap of a dirty calico dress, of big rough hands and shoes +worn sideways? + +These reflections, which have taken many words to explain, came to +Jessie in one flash of intuition. She understood now, all at once, the +incomprehensible phenomenon--that Hal should leave friends and home and +career, to come and live amid this squalor and suffering! She saw the +old drama of the soul of man, heaven and hell contending for mastery of +it; 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 was +frank, he was the soul of honourableness. No, it was impossible to +believe 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 +taken a chance of her meeting the girl. No; but he might be struggling +against temptation, 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 be like him to idealise this girl, calling her naïve and +primitive, thinking that she had no wiles! Jessie had come just in time +to save him! And she would fight to save him--using wiles more subtle +than those at the command of any mining-camp hussy! + + + +SECTION 25. + +It was the surging up in Jessie Arthur of that instinctive self, the +creature of hereditary cruelty, of the existence of which Hal had no +idea. She drew back, and there was a quiet _hauteur_ in her tone as she +spoke. “Hal, come here, please.” + +He came; and she waited until he was close enough for intimacy, and then +said, “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 have +such a good effect if you did.” + +“I can’t go into that crowd,” she answered; and suddenly her voice +trembled, 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 is +used 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 echo +to Hal’s mind. He did not stop to think--he was moved by it +instinctively. Yes, he had exposed the girl he loved to suffering! He +had 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 the +tears, the trembling of her sensitive chin. She swayed to him, and he +caught her in his arms--and there, before these witnesses, she let him +press her to him, while she sobbed and whispered her distress. She had +been shy of caresses hitherto, watched and admonished by an experienced +mother; certainly she had never before made what could by the remotest +stretch of the imagination be considered an advance towards him. But now +she made it, and there was a cry of triumph in her soul as she saw that +he responded to it. He was still hers--and these low people should know +it, this “other girl” should know it! + +Yet, in the midst of this very exultation, Jessie Arthur really felt the +grief she expressed for the women of North Valley; she really felt +horror at the story of Mrs. Zamboni’s “man”: so intricate is the soul of +woman, so puzzling that faculty, older than the ages, which enables her +to be hysterical, and at the same time to be guided in the use of that +hysteria 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 a +short time. I’ll have to take her hack, and then I’ll go to the +pit-mouth with you and see what I can do.” + +“Very well,” Mary answered; and her voice was hard and cold. But Hal did +not notice this. He was a man, and not able to keep up with the emotions +of one woman--to say nothing of two women at the same time. + +He took Jessie out, and all the way back to the train she fought a +desperate fight to get him away from here. She no longer even suggested +that 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 Coal +King’s son. She besought him in the name of their affection. She +threatened him that if he did not come, this might be the last time they +would meet. She even broke down in the middle of the street, and let him +stand there in plain sight of miners’ wives and children, and of +possible newspaper reporters, holding her in his arms and comforting +her. + +Hal was much puzzled; but he would not give way. The idea of going off +in Percy Harrigan’s train had come to seem morally repulsive to him; he +hated Percy Harrigan’s train, and Percy Harrigan also, he declared. And +Jessie saw that she was only making him unreasonable--that before long +he might be hating her. With her instinctive _savoir faire_, she brought +up his suggestion that she might find some one to chaperon her, and stay +with 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--the +certainty that no one of the ladies of the Harrigan party would run the +risk 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 cause +him 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, his +standing with her parents. They would telegraph her to come at once; and +if she did not obey, they would come by the next train. So on, until at +last Hal was moved to withdraw his own suggestion. After all, what was +the use of her staying, if her mind was on the people at home, if she +would simply keep him in hot water? Before the conversation was over Hal +had become clear in his mind that North Valley was no place for Jessie +Arthur, and that he had been a fool to think he could bring the two +together. + +She tried to get him to promise to leave as soon as the last man had +been brought out of the mine. He answered that he intended to leave +then, unless some new emergency should arise. She tried to get an +unqualified promise; and failing in that, when they had nearly got to +the train she suddenly made a complete surrender. Let him do what he +pleased--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 matter +what people might say about him, she believed in him, she would stand by +him. Hal was deeply touched, and took her in his arms again and kissed +her tenderly under the umbrella, in the presence of the wondering stares +of several urchins with coal-smutted faces. He pledged anew his love for +her, assuring her that no amount of interest in mining-camps should ever +steal 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 the +station-platform and saw the train roll away--and felt, to his own +desperate bewilderment, that he hated these friends of his boyhood and +youth. His reason protested against it; he told himself there was +nothing they could do, no reason on earth for them to stay--and yet he +hated them. They were hurrying off to dance and flirt at the country +club--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, and +cage-load after cage-load came up, with bodies dead and bodies living +and bodies only to be classified after machines had pumped air into them +for a while. Hal stood in the rain and watched the crowd and thought +that 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 to +tell! The sudden shriek of anguish from some woman whose hopes were +struck dead! The moans of sympathy that ran through the crowd, +alternating with cheers at some good tidings, shaking the souls of the +multitude as a storm of wind shakes a reed-field! + +And the stories that ran through the camp--brought up from the +underground world--stories of incredible sufferings, and of still more +incredible heroisms! Men who had been four days without food or water, +yet had resisted being carried out of the mine, proposing to stay and +help rescue others! Men who had lain together in the darkness and +silence, keeping themselves alive by the water which seeped from the +rocks overhead, taking turns lying face upwards where the drops fell, or +wetting pieces of their clothing and sucking out the moisture! Members +of the rescue parties would tell how they knocked upon the barriers, and +heard the faint answering signals of the imprisoned men; how madly they +toiled 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 the +darkness, while they waited, gasping, for the hole to grow bigger, so +that water and food might be passed in! + +In some places they were fighting the fire. Long lines of hose had been +sent down, and men were moving forward foot by foot, as the smoke and +steam were sucked out ahead of them by the fan. Those who did this work +were taking their lives in their hands, yet they went without +hesitation. There was always hope of finding men in barricaded rooms +beyond. + +Hal sought out Jeff Cotton at the entrance to the tipple-room, which had +been turned into a temporary hospital. It was the first time the two had +met since the revelation in Percy’s car, and the camp-marshal’s face +took on a rather sheepish grin. “Well, Mr. Warner, you win,” he +remarked; and after a little arguing he agreed to permit a couple of +women to go into the tipple-room and make a list of the injured, and go +out and give the news to the crowd. Hal went to the Minettis to ask Mary +Burke to attend to this; but Rosa said that Mary had gone out after he +and Miss Arthur had left, and no one knew where she was. So Hal went to +Mrs. David, who consented to get a couple of friends, and do the work +without being called a “committee.” “I won’t have any damned +committees!” the camp-marshal had declared. + +So the night passed, and part of another day. A clerk from the office +came to Hal with a sealed envelope, containing a telegram, addressed in +care of Cartwright. “I most urgently beg of you to come home at once. It +will be distressing to Dad if he hears what has happened, and it will +not be possible to keep the matter from him for long.” + +As Hal read, he frowned; evidently the Harrigans had got busy without +delay! He went to the office and telephoned his answer. “Am planning to +leave in a day or two. Trust you will make an effort to spare Dad until +you have heard my story.” + +This message troubled Hal. It started in his mind long arguments with +his brother, and explanations and apologies to his father. He loved the +old man tenderly. What a shame if some emissary of the Harrigans were to +get to him to upset him with misrepresentations! + +Also these ideas had a tendency to make Hal homesick; they brought more +vividly to his thoughts the outside world, with its physical +allurements--there being a limit to the amount of unwholesome meals and +dirty beds and repulsive sights a man of refinement can force himself to +endure. Hal found himself obsessed by a vision of a club dining-room, +with odours of grilled steaks and hot rolls, and the colours of salads +and fresh fruits and cream. The conviction grew suddenly strong in him +that his work in North Valley was nearly done! + +Another night passed, and another day. The last of the bodies had been +brought out, and the corpses shipped down to Pedro for one of those big +wholesale funerals which are a feature of mine-life. The fire was out, +and the rescue-crews had given place to a swarm of carpenters and +timbermen, repairing the damage and making the mine safe. The reporters +had gone; Billy Keating having clasped Hal’s hand, and promised to meet +him 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. What +more was there for Hal to do--except to bid good-bye to his friends, and +assure them of his help in the future? + +First among these friends was Mary Burke, whom he had had no chance to +talk to since the meeting with Jessie. He realised that Mary had been +deliberately avoiding him. She was not in her home, and he went to +inquire at the Rafferties’, and stopped for a good-bye chat with the old +woman whose husband he had saved. + +Rafferty was going to pull through. His wife had been allowed in to see +him, and tears rolled down her shrunken cheeks as she told about it. He +had been four days and nights blocked up in a little tunnel, with no +food or water, save for a few drops of coffee which he had shared with +other men. He could still not speak, he could hardly move a hand; but +there was life in his eyes, and his look had been a greeting from the +soul she had loved and served these thirty years and more. Mrs. Rafferty +sang praises to the Rafferty God, who had brought him safely through +these perils; it seemed obvious that He must be more efficient than the +Protestant God of Johannson, the giant Swede, who had lain by Rafferty’s +side and given up the ghost. + +But the doctor had stated that the old Irishman would never be good to +work 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? Rafferty +was old, to be sure; but he was tough--and could any doctor imagine how +hard a man would try who had a family looking to him? Sure, he was not +the one to give up for a bit of pain now and then! Besides him, there +was only Tim who was earning; and though Tim was a good lad, and worked +steady, any doctor ought to know that a big family could not be kept +going on the wages of one eighteen-year-old pit-boy. As for the other +lads, 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 the +heads of them that made the laws--for if they wanted to forbid children +to work in coal-mines, they should surely provide some other way to feed +the children. + +Hal listened, agreeing sympathetically, and meantime watching her, and +learning more from her actions than from her words. She had been +obedient to the teachings of her religion, to be fruitful and multiply; +she had fed three grown sons into the maw of industry, and had still +eight children and a man to care for. Hal wondered if she had ever +rested a single minute of daylight in all her fifty-four years. +Certainly not while he had been in her house! Even now, while praising +the Rafferty God and blaming the capitalist law-makers, she was getting +a supper, moving swiftly, silently, like a machine. She was lean as an +old horse that has toiled across a desert; the skin over her cheek-bones +was tight as stretched rubber, and cords stood out in her wrists like +piano-wires. + +And now she was cringing before the spectre of destitution. He asked +what she would do about it, and saw the shadow of terror cross her face +again. There was one recourse from starvation, it seemed--to have her +children taken from her, and put in some institution! At the mention of +this, one of the special nightmares of the poor, the old woman began to +sob and cry again that the doctor was wrong; he would see, and Hal would +see--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 been +sunset in a level region; the tops of the mountains were touched with a +purple light, and the air was fresh and chill with early fall. Down the +darkening streets he saw a gathering of men; there was shouting, and +people running towards the place, so he hurried up, with the thought in +his mind, “What’s the matter now?” There were perhaps a hundred men +crying out, their voices mingling like the sound of waves on the sea. He +could 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 situation +clear, other shouts had drowned out his name. “We’ve had enough of them +walking 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 stared +in amazement; it was Tim Rafferty. Of all people in the world--Tim, the +light-hearted and simple, Tim of the laughing face and the merry Irish +blue eyes! Now his sandy hair was tousled and his features distorted +with rage. “Him near dead!” he yelled. “Him with his voice gone, and +couldn’t move his hand! Eleven years he’s slaved for them, and near +killed in an accident that’s their own fault--every man in this crowd +knows 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--and +what’ll his hospital expenses be? They’ll have him out on the street +again before he’s able to stand. You know that--they done it to Pete +Cullen!” + +“You bet they did!” + +“Them damned lawyers in there--gettin’ ’em to sign papers when they +don’t know what they’re doin’. An’ me that might help him can’t get +near! 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 to +it ourselves!” + +“Come on!” shouted another. “To hell with their gunmen!” + +Hal pushed his way into the crowd. “Tim!” he cried. “How do you know +this?” + +“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 well +as me. He come and told me. They’re beatin’ me old father out of +damages!” + +“They do it all the time!” shouted Wauchope, an English miner at Hal’s +side. “That’s why they won’t let us in there.” + +“They done the same thing to my father!” put in another voice. Hal +recognised Andy, the Greek boy. + +“And they want to start Number Two in the mornin’!” yelled Tim. “Who’ll +go down there again? And with Alec Stone, him that damns the men and +saves 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 a +check-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 was +another beginning! The men were looking to him, calling upon him as the +boldest of the rebels. Only a few of them knew about the sudden change +in his fortunes. + +Even while he hesitated, the line of battle had swept past him; the +Englishman, Wauchope, sprang upon the steps and began to address the +throng. He was one of the bowed and stunted men, but in this emergency +he developed sudden lung-power. Hal listened in astonishment; this +silent and dull-looking fellow was the last he would have picked for a +fighter. Tom Olson had sounded him out, and reported that he would hear +nothing, so they had dismissed him from mind. And here he was, shouting +terrible 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 all +had 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 the +gunmen at his heels. The crowd turned upon them, the men on the +outskirts clenching their fists, showing their teeth like angry dogs. +Cotton’s face was red with rage, but he saw that he had a serious matter +in hand; he turned and went for more help--and the mob roared with +delight. Already they had begun their fight! Already they had won their +first victory! + + + +SECTION 3. + +The crowd moved down the street, shouting and cursing as it went. Some +one started to sing the Marseillaise, and others took it up, and the +words 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 a +score of languages, but it was the same song. They would sing a few +bars, and the yells of others would drown them out. “March on! March on! +All hearts resolved!” Some rushed away in different directions to spread +the news, and very soon the whole population of the village was on the +spot; the men waving their caps, the women lifting up their hands and +shrieking--or standing terrified, realising that babies could not be fed +upon revolutionary singing. + +Tim Rafferty was raised up on the shoulders of the crowd and made to +tell his story once more. While he was telling it, his old mother came +running, and her shrieks rang above the clamour: “Tim! Tim! Come down +from there! What’s the matter wid ye?” She was twisting her hands +together in an agony of fright; seeing Hal, she rushed up to him. “Get +him out of there, Joe! Sure, the lad’s gone crazy! They’ll turn us out +of 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 to +Versailles! + +Some one shouted that they would go to the hospital to protect the +injured men from the “damned lawyers.” Here was something definite, and +the crowd moved in that direction, Hal following with the stragglers, +the women and children, and the less bold among the men. He noticed some +of the clerks and salaried employés of the company; presently he saw +Jeff Cotton again, and heard him ordering these men to the office to get +revolvers. + +“Big Jack” David came along with Jerry Minetti, and Hal drew back to +consult with them. Jerry was on fire. It had come--the revolt he had +been 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 outburst +could mean anything permanent. + +Jerry answered that it would mean what they chose to make it mean. If +they 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 men +secretly, as preliminary to a revolt in all the camps. That was quite +another thing from an open movement, limited to one camp. Was there any +hope of success for such a movement? If not, they would be foolish to +start, 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 that +he had come to North Valley. It was a hard thing to advise men to submit +to such treatment as they had been getting; but on the other hand, any +one could see that a futile outbreak would discourage everybody, and +make it harder than ever to organise them. + +So much Hal spoke; but there was more in his mind, which he could not +speak. He could not say to these men, “I am a friend of yours, but I am +also a friend of your enemy, and in this crisis I cannot make up my mind +to which side I owe allegiance. I’m bound by a duty of politeness to the +masters of your lives; also, I’m anxious not to distress the girl I am +to marry!” No, he could not say such things. He felt himself a traitor +for having them in his mind, and he could hardly bring himself to look +these men in the eye. Jerry knew that he was in some way connected with +the Harrigans; probably he had told the rest of Hal’s friends, and they +had been discussing it and speculating about the meaning of it. Suppose +they should think he was a spy? + +So Hal was relieved when Jack David spoke firmly. They would only be +playing the game of the enemy if they let themselves be drawn in +prematurely. They ought to have the advice of Tom Olson. + +Where was Olson? Hal asked; and David explained that on the day when Hal +had been thrown out of camp, Olson had got his “time” and set out for +Sheridan, 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 was +impossible to telephone from North Valley without everything they said +being listened to; but the evening train for Pedro left in a few +minutes, and “Big Jack” declared that some one ought to take it. The +town of Sheridan was only fifteen or twenty miles from Pedro, and there +would be a union official there to advise them; or they might use the +long distance telephone, and persuade one of the union leaders in +Western 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 have +funds enough, and the big Welshman darted off to catch the train. In the +meantime Jerry and Hal agreed to keep in the background, and to seek out +the 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 find +almost at once, it had been adopted too late. He and Jerry started after +the 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 the +voice of a woman, the tones rising clear and compelling. They could not +see 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 a +kind of frenzy. She would speak one sentence, and there would come a +roar from the throng; she would speak another sentence, and there would +come another roar. Hal and Jerry pushed their way in, to where they +could 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 on +their knees to ask for terms! But ye’re cowards, and they play on your +fears! 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 private +cars, and leave gunmen to beat ye down and trample on your faces! How +long will ye stand it? How long?” + +The roar of the mob rolled down the street and back again. “We’ll not +stand it! We’ll not stand it!” Men shook their clenched fists, women +shrieked, even children shouted curses. “We’ll fight them! We’ll slave +no more for them!” + +And Mary found a magic word. “We’ll have a union!” she shouted. “We’ll +get together and stay together! If they refuse us our rights, we’ll know +what 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 in +North Valley, but now it ran like a flash of gunpowder through the +throng. “Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!” It seemed as if they would +never have enough of it. Not all of them had understood Mary’s speech, +but they knew this word, “Strike!” They translated and proclaimed it in +Polish and Bohemian and Italian and Greek. Men waved their caps, women +waved their aprons--in the semi-darkness it was like some strange kind +of vegetation tossed by a storm. Men clasped one another’s hands, the +more 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 live +as men! We’ll work as men--or we’ll not work at all! We’ll no longer be +a herd of cattle, that they can drive about as they please! We’ll +organise, we’ll stand together--shoulder to shoulder! Either we’ll win +together, or we’ll starve and die together! And not a man of us will +yield, not a man of us will turn traitor! Is there anybody here who’ll +scab on his fellows?” + +There was a howl, which might have come from a pack of wolves. Let the +man 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 of +ye 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 your +wives and childer!” The girl rushed on--exhorting with leaping words and +passionate out-flung arms--a tall, swaying figure of furious rebellion. +Hal listened to the speech and watched the speaker, marvelling. Here was +a miracle of the human soul, here was hope born of despair! And the +crowd around her--they were sharing the wonderful rebirth; their waving +arms, their swaying forms responded to Mary as an orchestra to the baton +of a leader. + +A thrill shook Hal--a thrill of triumph! He had been beaten down +himself, he had wanted to run from this place of torment; but now there +was hope in North Valley--now there would be victory, freedom! + +Ever since he had come to the coal-country, the knowledge had been +growing in Hal that the real tragedy of these people’s lives was not +their physical suffering, but their mental depression--the dull, +hopeless misery in their minds. This had been driven into his +consciousness day by day, both by what he saw and by what others told +him. Tom Olson had first put it into words: “Your worst troubles are +inside the heads of the fellows you’re trying to help!” How could hope +be 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 a +class which is accustomed to say, “Do this,” or “Do that,” and it will +be done. But these mine-slaves had never known that sense of power, of +certainty; on the contrary, they were accustomed to having their efforts +balked at every turn, their every impulse to happiness or achievement +crushed by another’s will. + +But here was this miracle of the human soul! Here was hope in North +Valley! Here were the people rising--and Mary Burke at their head! It +was his vision come true--Mary Burke with a glory in her face, and her +hair shining like a crown of gold! Mary Burke mounted upon a snow-white +horse, wearing a robe of white, soft and lustrous--like Joan of Arc, or +a 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 in +this girl. Since that day when he had first discovered her, a wild rose +of the mining-camp taking in the family wash, he had realised that she +was no pretty young working-girl, but a woman with a mind and a +personality. She saw farther, she felt more deeply than the average of +these 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 had +made clear that what she craved was not merely relief from drudgery, but +a life with intellectual interest. So then the idea had come to him that +Mary 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 mind +that was capable of seeking out the causes of their misery. But when he +had gone to her with plans of leadership, he had been met by her +corroding despair; her pessimism had seemed to mock his dreams, her +contempt for these mine-slaves had belittled his efforts in their behalf +and in hers. + +And now, here she was taking up the role he had planned for her! Her +very soul was in this shouting throng, he thought. She had lived the +lives of these people, shared their every wrong, been driven to +rebellion with them. Being a mere man, Hal missed one important point +about this startling development; he did not realise that Mary’s +eloquence was addressed, not merely to the Rafferties and the Wauchopes, +and the rest of the North Valley mine-slaves, but to a certain +magazine-cover girl, clad in a mackintosh and a pale green hat and a +soft and filmy and horribly expensive motoring veil! + + + +SECTION 5. + +Mary’s speech was brought to a sudden end. A group of the men had moved +down the street, and there arose a disturbance there. The noise of it +swelled louder, and more people began to move in that direction. Mary +turned 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 the +clerks and office-employés, among whom Hal saw Predovich, Johnson, the +postmaster, 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 want +them lawyers out of there!” + +The superintendent himself had undertaken to parley with him. “There are +no lawyers in here, Rafferty.” + +“We don’t trust you!” And the crowd took up the cry: “We’ll see for +ourselves!” + +“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 my +father, 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 disturb +the others.” + +“You weren’t afraid to disturb them with your damned lawyers!” And there +was a roar of approval--so loud that Cartwright’s denial could hardly be +heard. + +“There have been no lawyers near him, I tell you.” + +“It’s a lie!” shouted Wauchope. “They been in there all day, and you +know 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 the +steps. + +“I mean to see my father!” As Cartwright caught him by the shoulder, he +yelled, “Let me go, I say!” + +It was evident that the superintendent was trying his best not to use +violence; he was ordering his own followers back at the same time that +he was holding the boy. But Tim’s blood was up; he shoved forward, and +the superintendent, either striking him or trying to ward off a blow, +threw him backwards down the steps. There was an uproar of rage from the +throng; they surged forward, and at the same time some of the men on the +porch drew revolvers. + +The meaning of that situation was plain enough. In a moment more the mob +would be up the steps, and there would be shooting. And if once that +happened, who could guess the end? Wrought up as the crowd was, it might +not stop till it had fired every company building, perhaps not until it +had murdered every company representative. + +Hal had resolved to keep in the back-ground, but he saw that to keep in +the back-ground at that moment would be an act of cowardice, almost a +crime. He sprang forward, his cry rising above the clamour. “Stop, men! +Stop!” + +There was probably no other man in North Valley who could have got +himself heeded at that moment. But Hal had their confidence, he had +earned the right to be heard. Had he not been to prison for them, had +they not seen him behind the bars? “Joe Smith!” The cry ran from one end +of 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 the +voice, obeyed. + +Once clear of the press, Hal sprang upon the porch, where Cartwright did +not attempt to interfere with him. + +“Men!” he cried. “Hold on a moment! This isn’t what you want! You don’t +want a fight!” He paused for an instant; but he knew that no mere +negative would hold them at that moment. They must be told what they did +want. Just now he had learned the particular words that would carry, and +he 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 was +what they wanted! A strike! And they wanted Joe Smith to organise it, to +lead it. He had been their leader once, he had been thrown out of camp +for 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 hell +and back! + +And wasn’t he the boy with the nerve! Standing there on the porch of the +hospital, right under the very noses of the bosses, making a union +speech to them, and the bosses never daring to touch him! The crowd, +realising this situation, went wild with delight. The English-speaking +men 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 free +men. There would be a union committee, able to speak for all of them, to +say 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 they +asked for their rights, of blacklisting men and driving them out of the +district because they presumed to want what the laws of the state +awarded 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 of +mine-workers? Hal realised that he must move the crowd from that +perilous place. + +“You’ll do what I say, now?” he demanded; and when they agreed in +chorus, 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 job +for sober men, you bet! + +“And now,” Hal continued, “the people in the hospital. We’ll have a +committee go in and see about them. No noise--we don’t want to disturb +the 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 a +committee to go in and stay with our people.” Then, as the +superintendent started to expostulate, he added, in a low voice, “Don’t +be 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 Hal +carry his point with the crowd; but also he saw the immediate +danger--and he was not sure of the courage and shooting ability of +book-keepers and stenographers. + +“Be quick, man!” exclaimed Hal. “I can’t hold these people long. If you +don’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 a +shout of triumph. + +“Now, who’s to go?” said Hal, when he could be heard again; and he +looked about at the upturned faces. There Were Tim and Wauchope, the +most obvious ones; but Hal decided to keep them under his eye. He +thought of Jerry Minetti and of Mrs. David--but remembered his agreement +with “Big Jack,” to keep their own little group in the back-ground. Then +he thought of Mary Burke; she had already done herself all the harm she +could do, and she was a person the crowd would trust. He called her, and +called Mrs. Ferris, an American woman in the crowd. The two came up the +steps, and Hal turned to Cartwright. + +“Now, let’s have an understanding,” he said. “These people are going in +to stay with the sick men, and to talk to them if they want to, and +nobody’s going to give them any orders but the doctors and nurses. Is +that right?” + +“All right,” said the superintendent, sullenly. + +“Good!” said Hal. “And for God’s sake have a little sense and stand by +your word; this crowd has had all it can endure, and if you do any more +to provoke it, the consequences will be on you. And while you’re about +it, see that the saloons are closed and kept closed until this trouble +is settled. And keep your people out of the way--don’t let them go about +showing their guns and making faces.” + +Without waiting to hear the superintendent’s reply, Hal turned to the +throng, and held up his hand for silence. “Men,” he said, “we have a big +job to do--we’re going to organise a union. And we can’t do it here in +front of the hospital. We’ve made too much noise already. Let’s go off +quietly, 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 women +passed safely into the hospital, sprang down from the porch to lead the +way. Jerry Minetti came to his side, trembling with delight; and Hal +clutched him by the arm and whispered, excitedly, “Sing, Jerry! Sing +them some Dago song!” + + + +SECTION 7. + +They got to the place appointed without any fighting. And meantime Hal +had worked out in his mind a plan for communicating with this polyglot +horde. He knew that half the men could not understand a word of English, +and that half the remainder understood very little. Obviously, if he was +to make matters clear to them, they must be sorted out according to +nationality, and a reliable interpreter found for each group. + +The process of sorting proved a slow one, involving no end of shouting +and good-natured jostling--Polish here, Bohemian here, Greek here, +Italian here! When this job had been done, and a man found from each +nationality who understood enough English to translate to his fellows, +Hal started in to make a speech. But before he had spoken many +sentences, pandemonium broke loose. All the interpreters started +interpreting at the same time--and at the top of their lungs; it was +like a parade with the bands close together! Hal was struck dumb; then +he began to laugh, and the various audiences began to laugh; the orators +stopped, perplexed--then they too began to laugh. So wave after wave of +merriment rolled over the throng; the mood of the assembly was changed +all at once, from rage and determination to the wildest hilarity. Hal +learned his first lesson in the handling of these hordes of child-like +people, whose moods were quick, whose tempers were balanced upon a fine +point. + +It was necessary for him to make his speech through to the end, and then +move the various audiences apart, to be addressed by the various +interpreters. But then arose a new difficulty. How could any one control +these floods of eloquence? How be sure that the message was not being +distorted? Hal had been warned by Olson of company detectives who posed +as workers, gaining the confidence of men in order to incite them to +violence. 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 and +eyes, 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 his +compatriots at his feet; he waved his arms, he shook his fists, he +shrieked, he bellowed. But when Hal, becoming uneasy, went over and +asked another English-speaking Greek what the orator was saying, the +answer was that he was promising that the law should be enforced in +North Valley! + +Hal stood watching this perfervid little man, a study in the +possibilities of gesture. He drew back his shoulders and puffed out his +chest, almost throwing himself backwards off the barrel-head; he was +saying that the miners would be able to live like men. He crouched down +and bowed his head, moaning; he was telling them what would happen if +they gave up. He fastened his fingers in his long black hair and began +tugging desperately; he pulled, and then stretched out his empty hands; +he pulled again, so hard that it almost made one cry out with pain to +watch 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 come +out’!” 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 into +his head the all-saving idea of solidarity. When the various orators had +talked themselves out, and the audiences had come back to the +cinder-heap, Hal made his speech all over again, in words of one +syllable, in the kind of pidgin-English which does duty in the camps. +Sometimes he would stop to reinforce it with Greek or Italian or Slavish +words he had picked up. Or perhaps his eloquence would inflame some one +of the interpreters afresh, and he would wait while the man shouted a +few sentences to his compatriots. It was not necessary to consider the +possibility of boring any one, for these were patient and long-suffering +men, and now desperately in earnest. + +They were going to have a union; they were going to do the thing in +regular form, with membership cards and officials chosen by ballot. So +Hal explained to them, step by step. There was no use organising unless +they meant to stay organised. They would choose leaders, one from each +of the principal language groups; and these leaders would meet and draw +up a set of demands, which would be submitted in mass-meeting, and +ratified, and then presented to the bosses with the announcement that +until these terms were granted, not a single North Valley worker would +go back into the pits. + +Jerry Minetti, who knew all about unions, advised Hal to enroll the men +at once; he counted on the psychological effect of having each man come +forward and give in his name. But here at once they met a difficulty +encountered by all would-be organisers--lack of funds. There must be +pencils and paper for the enrollment; and Hal had emptied his pockets +for Jack David! He was forced to borrow a quarter, and send a messenger +off to the store. It was voted by the delegates that each member as he +joined the union should be assessed a dime. There would have to be some +telegraphing and telephoning if they were going to get help from the +outside world. + +A temporary committee was named, consisting of Tim Rafferty, Wauchope +and Hal, to keep the lists and the funds, and to run things until +another meeting could be held on the morrow; also a body-guard of a +dozen of the sturdiest and most reliable men were named to stay by the +committee. The messenger came back with pads and pencils, and sitting on +the ground by the light of pit-lamps, the interpreters wrote down the +names of the men who wished to join the union, each man in turn pledging +his word for solidarity and discipline. Then the meeting was declared +adjourned till daylight of the morrow, and the workers scattered to +their homes to sleep, with a joy and sense of power such as few of them +had ever known in their lives before. + + + +SECTION 8. + +The committee and its body-guard repaired to the dining-room of +Reminitsky’s, where they stretched themselves out on the floor; no one +attempted to interfere with them, and while the majority snored +peacefully, Hal and a small group sat writing out the list of demands +which were to be submitted to the bosses in the morning. It was arranged +that Jerry should go down to Pedro by the early morning train, to get +into touch with Jack David and the union officials, and report to them +the latest developments. Because the officials were sure to have +detectives following them, Hal warned Jerry to go to MacKellar’s house, +and have MacKellar bring “Big Jack” to meet him there. Also Jerry must +have MacKellar get the _Gazette_ on the long distance phone, and tell +Billy Keating about the strike. + +A hundred things like this Hal had to think of; his head was a-buzz with +them, so that when he lay down to sleep he could not. He thought about +the bosses, and what they might be doing. The bosses would not be +sleeping, he felt sure! + +And then came thoughts about his private-car friends; about the +strangeness of this plight into which he had got himself! He laughed +aloud in a kind of desperation as he recalled Percy’s efforts to get him +away from here. And poor Jessie! What could he say to her now? + +The bosses made no move that night; and when morning came, the strikers +hurried to the meeting-place, some of them without even stopping for +breakfast. They came tousled and unkempt, looking anxiously at their +fellows, as if unable to credit the memory of the bold thing they had +done on the night before. But finding the committee and its body-guard +on hand and ready for business, their courage revived, they felt again +the wonderful sentiment of solidarity which had made men of them. Pretty +soon speech-making began, and cheering and singing, which brought out +the laggards and the cowards. So in a short while the movement was in +full swing, with practically every man, woman and child among the +workers present. + +Mary Burke came from the hospital, where she had spent the night. She +looked weary and bedraggled, but her spirit of battle had not slumped. +She reported that she had talked with some of the injured men, and that +many of them had signed “releases,” whereby the company protected itself +against even the threat of a lawsuit. Others had refused to sign, and +Mary had been vehement in warning them to stand out. Two other women +volunteered to go to the hospital, in order that she might have a chance +to rest; but Mary did not wish to rest, she did not feel as if she could +ever 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 in +that irrevocable way, and succeeded in putting the honour off on +Wauchope. Tim Rafferty was made treasurer and secretary. Then a +committee was chosen to go to Cartwright with the demands of the men. It +included Hal, Wauchope, and Tim; an Italian named Marcelli, whom Jerry +had vouched for; a representative of the Slavs and one of the +Greeks--Rusick and Zammakis, both of them solid and faithful men. +Finally, with a good deal of laughter and cheering, the meeting voted to +add Mary Burke to this committee. It was a new thing to have a woman in +such a role, but Mary was the daughter of a miner and the sister of a +breaker-boy, and had as good a right to speak as any one in North +Valley. + + + +SECTION 9. + +Hal read the document which had been prepared the night before. They +demanded the right to have a union without being discharged for it. They +demanded a check-weighman, to be elected by the men themselves. They +demanded that the mines should be sprinkled to prevent explosions, and +properly timbered to prevent falls. They demanded the right to trade at +any store they pleased. Hal called attention to the fact that every one +of 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 other +demands. After some argument they voted down the proposition of the +radicals, who wanted a ten per cent. increase in wages. Also they voted +down the proposition of a syndicalist-anarchist, who explained to them +in a jumble of English and Italian that the mines belonged to them, and +that they should refuse all compromise and turn the bosses out +forthwith. + +While this speech was being delivered, young Rovetta pushed his way +through the crowd and drew Hal to one side. He had been down by the +railroad-station and seen the morning train come in. From it had +descended a crowd of thirty or forty men, of that “hard citizen” type +which every miner in the district could recognise at the first glance. +Evidently the company officials had been keeping the telephone-wires +busy that night; they were bringing in, not merely this train-load of +guards, but automobile loads from other camps--from the Northeastern +down 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 to +suppress these too impetuous ones by main force; once more Hal gave the +warning 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 company +would 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. Behind +the committee marched the crowd in a solid mass; they packed the street +in front of the office, while the heroic seven went up the steps and +passed into the building. Wauchope made inquiry for Mr. Cartwright, and +a clerk took in the message. + +They stood waiting; and meanwhile, one of the office-people, coming in +from the street, beckoned to Hal. He had an envelope in his hand, and +gave it over without a word. It was addressed, “Joe Smith,” and Hal +opened 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 his +brother’s familiar handwriting, “I am at Cartwright’s house. I must see +you. 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 old +man, and had a stroke of apoplexy three years ago. I’m afraid he may be +dead, or very ill. I must go.” + +“It’s a trick!” cried Wauchope excitedly. + +“No, not possibly,” answered Hal. “I know my brother’s handwriting. I +must see him.” + +“Well,” declared the other, “we’ll wait. We’ll not see Cartwright until +you get back.” + +Hal considered this. “I don’t think that’s wise,” he said. “You can do +what 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 the +president of the union. You know what the men want, as well as I do; you +know what they complain of. And besides, there’s not going to be any +need of talking with Cartwright. Either he’s going to grant our demands +or he isn’t.” + +They discussed the matter back and forth. Mary Burke insisted that they +were pulling Hal away just at the critical moment! He laughed as he +answered. She was as good as any man when it came to an argument. If +Wauchope showed signs of weakening, let her speak up! + + + +SECTION 10. + +So Hal hurried off, and climbed the street which led to the +superintendent’s house, a concrete bungalow set upon a little elevation +overlooking the camp. He rang the bell, and the door opened, and in the +entrance stood his brother. + +Edward Warner was eight years older than Hal; the perfect type of the +young American business man. His figure was erect and athletic, his +features were regular and strong, his voice, his manner, everything +about him spoke of quiet decision, of energy precisely directed. As a +rule, he was a model of what the tailor’s art could do, but just now +there 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 the +matter 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 Western +City to-morrow. You can see that something will be the matter with Dad +unless 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 blue +overalls, his face streaked with black, his wavy hair all mussed. “You +wired me you were going to leave here, Hal!” + +“So I was; but things happened that I couldn’t foresee. There’s a +strike.” + +“Yes; but what’s that got to do with it?” Then, with exasperation in his +voice, “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 tension +as he was, he could not help laughing. “I know how all this must seem to +you, 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 was +hoping was that we could talk it all over quietly, after the excitement +was past. When I explain to you about conditions in this place--” + +But Edward interrupted. “Really, Hal, there’s no use of such an +argument. I have nothing to do with conditions in Peter Harrigan’s +camps.” + +The smile left Hal’s face. “Would you have preferred to have me +investigate conditions in the Warner camps?” Hal had tried to suppress +his irritation, but there was simply no way these two could get along. +“We’ve had our arguments about these things, Edward, and you’ve always +had the best of me--you could tell me I was a child, it was presumptuous +of 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 thought +before he spoke. “Well, what’s your new basis?” + +“Just now I’m in the midst of a strike, and I can hardly stop to +explain.” + +“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 give +you some idea how I got swept into this.” + +He began to tell about the conditions he had found in this stronghold of +the “G. F. C.” As usual, when he talked about it, he became absorbed in +its human aspects; a fervour came into his tone, he was carried on, as +he had been when he tried to argue with the officials in Pedro. But his +eloquence was interrupted, even as it had been then; he discovered that +his brother was in such a state of exasperation that he could not listen +to a consecutive argument. + +It was the old, old story; it had been thus as far back as Hal could +remember. It seemed one of the mysteries of nature, how she could have +brought 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 with +self-questioning, nor with any other superfluous emotions; he could not +understand people who allowed that sort of waste in their mental +processes. 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 cutting +the water with his glistening shoulders, or bringing down a partridge +with the certainty and swiftness of a lightning stroke, Edward was the +incarnation of Success. When he said that one’s ideas were “rot,” when +he spoke with contempt of “mollycoddles”--then indeed one suffered in +soul, 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 to +be something in his nature which forced him to go to the roots of +things; and much as he looked up to his wonderful brother, he had been +made to realise that there were sides of life to which this brother was +blind. To begin with, there were religious doubts; the distresses of +mind which plague a young man when first it dawns upon him that the +faith he has been brought up in is a higher kind of fairy-tale. Edward +had never asked such questions, apparently. He went to church, because +it was the thing to do; more especially because it was pleasing to the +young lady he wished to marry to have him put on stately clothes, and +escort her to a beautiful place of music and flowers and perfumes, where +she would meet her friends, also in stately clothes. How abnormal it +seemed 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-day +religion--the religion of the profit-system--that the controversy +between them had become deadly. At first Hal had known nothing about +practical affairs, and it had been Edward’s duty to answer his +questions. The prosperity of the country had been built up by strong +men; and these men had enemies--evil-minded persons, animated by +jealousy and other base passions, seeking to tear down the mighty +structure. At first this devil-theory had satisfied the boy; but later +on, 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 the +writings of so-called “muck-rakers,” the realisation was forced upon him +that there were two types of mind in the controversy--those who thought +of profits, and those who thought of human beings. + +Edward was alarmed at the books Hal was reading; he was still more +alarmed when he saw the ideas Hal was bringing home from college. There +must have been some strange change in Harrigan in a few years; no one +had dreamed of such ideas when Edward was there! No one had written +satiric songs about the faculty, or the endowments of eminent +philanthropists! + +In the meantime Edward Warner Senior had had a paralytic stroke, and +Edward Junior had taken charge of the company. Three years of this had +given him the point of view of a coal-operator, hard and set for a +life-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 the +product at the market price to parties whose credit was satisfactory. If +a concern was doing that, it was a successful concern; for any one to +mention that it was making wrecks of the people who dug the coal, was to +be guilty of sentimentality and impertinence. + +Edward had heard with dismay his brother’s announcement that he meant to +study industry by spending his vacation as a common labourer. However, +when he considered it, he was inclined to think that the idea might not +be 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 nonsense +knocked out of his head! + +But now the experiment had been made, and the revelation had burst upon +Edward that it had been a ghastly failure. Hal had not come to realise +that labour was turbulent and lazy and incompetent, needing a strong +hand to rule it; on the contrary, he had become one of these turbulent +ones himself! A champion of the lazy and incompetent, an agitator, a +fomenter of class-prejudice, an enemy of his own friends, and of his +brother’s business associates! + +Never had Hal seen Edward in such a state of excitement. There was +something really abnormal about him, Hal realised; it puzzled him +vaguely while he talked, but he did not understand it until his brother +told how he had come to be here. He had been attending a dinner-dance at +the home of a friend, and Percy Harrigan had got him on the telephone at +half past eleven o’clock at night. Percy had had a message from +Cartwright, to the effect that Hal was leading a riot in North Valley; +Percy had painted the situation in such lurid colours that Edward had +made 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, his +punctilious and dignified brother, alighting from a sleeping-car at +seven o’clock in the morning, wearing a dress suit and a silk hat! And +here he was, Edward Warner Junior, the fastidious, who never paid less +than 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-eight +cents in a “Jew-store” in a coal-town! + + + +SECTION 11. + +But Edward would not stop for a single smile; his every faculty was +absorbed in the task he had before him, to get his brother out of this +predicament, so dangerous and so humiliating. Hal had come to a town +owned by Edward’s business friends, and had proceeded to meddle in their +affairs, to stir up their labouring people and imperil their property. +That North Valley was the property of the General Fuel Company--not +merely the mines and the houses, but likewise the people who lived in +them--Edward seemed to have no doubt whatever; Hal got only exclamations +of annoyance when he suggested any other point of view. Would there have +been any town of North Valley, if it had not been for the capital and +energy of the General Fuel Company? If the people of North Valley did +not 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 took +the 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 stop +because they wanted to--not because outside agitators put them up to it. +At any rate, let the agitators not include a member of the Warner +family! + +The elder brother pictured old Peter Harrigan on his way back from the +East; the state of unutterable fury in which he would arrive, the storm +he would raise in the business world of Western City. Why, it was +unimaginable, such a thing had never been heard of! “And right when +we’re opening up a new mine--when we need every dollar of credit we can +get!” + +“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’t +have to go out of our way to make enemies.” + +Edward spoke, not merely as the elder brother, but also as the money-man +of the family. When the father had broken down from over-work, and had +been changed in one terrible hour from a driving man of affairs into a +childish and pathetic invalid, Hal had been glad enough that there was +one member of the family who was practical; he had been perfectly +willing to see his brother shoulder these burdens, while he went off to +college, to amuse himself with satiric songs. Hal had no +responsibilities, no one asked anything of him--except that he would not +throw sticks into the wheels of the machine his brother was running. +“You are living by the coal industry! Every dollar you spend comes from +it--” + +“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 the +people who work for me, and what sort of treatment they get. I’m no +longer 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 men +their weights?” + +“Of course! They have their check-weighmen.” + +“But then, how do we compete with the operators in this district, who +pay for a ton of three thousand pounds?” + +“We manage it--by economy.” + +“Economy? I don’t see Peter Harrigan wasting anything here!” Hal paused +for an answer, but none came. “Do we buy the check-weighmen? Do we bribe +the labour leaders?” + +Edward coloured slightly. “What’s the use of being nasty, Hal? You know +I don’t do dirty work.” + +“I don’t mean to be nasty, Edward; but you must know that many a +business-man can say he doesn’t do dirty work, because he has others do +it for him. What about politics, for instance? Do we run a machine, and +put 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, not +now! 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 you +know that he’ll be after me, raging like a mad bull? Don’t you know that +if I tell him I can do nothing--that I’ve been down here and tried to +pull you away--don’t you know he’ll go after Dad?” + +Edward had tried all the arguments, and this was the only one that +counted. “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 the +house? He’ll throw the burden of his rage on that poor old man! You’ve +been warned about it clearly; you know it may be a matter of life and +death to keep Dad from getting excited. I don’t know what he’d do; maybe +he’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--and +like as not he’d drop dead in the midst of the dispute! Do you want to +have that on your conscience, along with the troubles of your workingmen +friends?” + + + +SECTION 12. + +Hal sat staring in front of him, silent. Was it a fact that every man +had something in his life which palsied his arm, and struck him helpless +in the battle for social justice? + +When he spoke again, it was in a low voice. “Edward, I’m thinking about +a young Irish boy who works in these mines. He, too, has a father; and +this father was caught in the explosion. He’s an old man, with a wife +and seven other children. He’s a good man, the boy’s a good boy. Let me +tell 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 them +all. And besides, can’t you see, Edward--what I’m thinking about is not +charity, but _justice_. I’m sure this boy, Tim Rafferty, loves his +father just exactly as much as I love my father; and there are other old +men 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 take +all the troubles in the world on your shoulders?” And he sprang up and +caught the other by the arm. “Boy, you’ve got to come away from here!” + +Hal got up, without answering. He seemed irresolute, and his brother +started to draw him towards the door. “I’ve got a car here. We can get a +train in an hour--” + +Hal saw that he had to speak firmly. “No, Edward,” he said. “I can’t +come 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 own +father!” + +“I can’t explain it, Edward. I’ve talked for half an hour, and I don’t +think you’ve even heard me. Suffice it to say that I see these people +caught in a trap--and one that my whole life has helped to make. I can’t +leave them in it. What’s more, I don’t believe Dad would want me to do +it, if he understood.” + +The other made a last effort at self-control. “I’m not going to call you +a sentimental fool. Only, let me ask you one plain question. What do you +think 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. “In +Peter Harrigan’s mines! Don’t you realise that he’ll pick them up and +throw them out of here, neck and crop--the whole crew, every man in the +town, if necessary?” + +“Perhaps,” answered Hal; “but if the men in the other mines should join +them--if the big union outside should stand by them--” + +“You’re dreaming, Hal! You’re talking like a child! I talked to the +superintendent here; he had telegraphed the situation to Old Peter, and +had just got an answer. Already he’s acted, no doubt.” + +“Acted?” echoed Hal. “How do you mean?” He was staring at his brother in +sudden 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 you +have 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 sharp +struggle. But the elder man was no longer the athlete, the young bronzed +god; he had been sitting at a desk in an office, while Hal had been +doing hard labour. Hal threw him to one side, and in a moment more had +sprung 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 of +the office. One glance told him that something had happened. Men were +running this way and that, gesticulating, shouting. Some were coming in +his direction, and when they saw him they began to yell to him. The +first to reach him was Klowoski, the little Pole, breathless; gasping +with excitement. “They fire our committee!” + +“Fire them?” + +“Fire ’em out! Down canyon!” The little man was waving his arms in wild +gestures; his eyes seemed about to start out of his head. “Take ’em off! +Whole bunch fellers--gunmen! People see them--come out back door. Got +ever’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 road +like wind! Go down canyon, all gone! They bust our strike!” And the +little 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 followed +him--puffing hard, for the run had been strenuous. He caught Hal by the +arm, exclaiming, “Keep out of this, I tell you!” + +Thus while Hal was questioning Klowoski, he was struggling +half-unconsciously, to free himself from his brother’s grasp. Suddenly +the matter was forced to an issue, for the little Polack emitted a cry +like an angry cat, and went at Edward with fingers outstretched like +claws. 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 him +alone!” he said. “It’s my brother!” Whereupon the little man fell back +and stood watching in bewilderment. + +Hal saw Androkulos running to him. The Greek boy had been in the street +back of the office, and had seen the committee carried off; nine people +had been taken--Wauchope, Tim Rafferty, and Mary Burke, Marcelli, +Zammakis and Rusick, and three others who had served as interpreters on +the night before. It had all been done so quickly that the crowd had +scarcely realised what was happening. + +Now, having grasped the meaning of it, the men were beside themselves +with rage. They shook their fists, shouting defiance to a group of +officials and guards who were visible upon the porch of the +office-building. There was a clamour of shouts for revenge. + +Hal could see instantly the dangers of the situation; he was like a man +watching the burning fuse of a bomb. Now, if ever, this polyglot horde +must 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 their +committee, but they still had Joe Smith. Joe Smith! Hurrah for Joe! Let +the gunmen take him, if they could! They waved their caps, they tried to +lift him upon their shoulders, so that all could see him. + +There was clamour for a speech, and Hal started to make his way to the +steps 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 part +with his brother. And when Hal was about to mount the steps, Edward made +a 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 of +these poor devils shot! Use your common sense, Hal; the company has +brought 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 brother +clinging to the younger’s arm, while the younger sought to pull free, +and the mob shouted with a single voice, “Speech! Speech!” There were +some near by who, like Klowoski, did not relish having this stranger +interfering with their champion, and showed signs of a disposition to +“mix in”; so at last Edward gave up the struggle, and the orator mounted +the 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’ll +break 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-Workers +of America!” + +Again the yell rang out; again and again. “Hurrah for the union! Hurrah +for the United Mine-Workers!” A big American miner, Ferris, was in the +front of the throng, and his voice beat in Hal’s ears like a +steam-siren. + +“Boys,” Hal resumed, when at last he could be heard, “use your brains a +moment. I warned you they would try to provoke you! They would like +nothing better than to start a scrap here, and get a chance to smash our +union! Don’t forget that, boys, if they can make you fight, they’ll +smash the union, and the union is our only hope!” + +Again came the cry: “Hurrah for the union!” Hal let them shout it in +twenty 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 of +rage 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 us +at 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 every +man, woman and child in the village, if they choose. What we have to get +clear is that even that won’t crush our union! Nor the big union +outside, that will be backing us! We can hold out, and make them take us +back in the end!” + +Some of Hal’s friends, seeing what he was trying to do, came to his +support. “No fighting! No violence! Stand by the union!” And he went on +to drive the lesson home; even though the company might evict them, the +big union of the four hundred and fifty thousand mine-workers of the +country would feed them, it would call out the rest of the workers in +the district in sympathy. So the bosses, who thought to starve and cow +them into submission, would find their mines lying permanently idle. +They would be forced to give way, and the tactics of solidarity would +triumph. + +So Hal went on, recalling the things Olson had told him, and putting +them into practice. He saw hope in their faces again, dispelling the +mood 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’ll +go down to Pedro, where there’ll be some officers of the United +Mine-workers this morning. I’ll tell them the situation, and ask them to +back 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 to +get word to you. And meantime you stand firm. The bosses will tell you +lies, they’ll try to deceive you, they’ll send spies and trouble-makers +among 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 the +faces upturned to him. Pitiful, toil-worn faces they were, each making +its separate appeal, telling its individual story of deprivation and +defeat. Once more they were transfigured, shining with that wonderful +new light which he had seen for the first time the previous evening. It +had been crushed for a moment, but it flamed up again; it would never +die 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 of +enthusiasm. A beautiful, a terrible thing it was! + +Hal looked at his brother, to see how he had been moved. What he saw on +his brother’s face was satisfaction, boundless relief. The matter had +turned out all right! Hal was coming away! + +Hal turned again to the men; somehow, after his glance at Edward, they +seemed more pitiful than ever. For Edward typified the power they were +facing--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 at +hand to make speeches to them. He saw them waiting, their life-long +habit of obedience striving to reassert itself; a thousand fears +besetting them, a thousand rumours preying upon them--wild beasts set on +them by their cunning enemies. They would suffer, not merely for +themselves, but for their wives and children--the very same pangs of +dread that Hal suffered when he thought of one old man up in Western +City, whose doctors had warned him to avoid excitement. + +If they stood firm, if they kept their bargain with their leader, they +would be evicted from their homes, they would face the cold of the +coming winter, they would face hunger and the black-list. And he, +meantime--what would he be doing? What was his part of the bargain? He +would interview the superintendent for them, he would turn them over to +the “big union”--and then he would go off to his own life of ease and +pleasure. To eat grilled steaks and hot rolls in a perfectly appointed +club, with suave and softly-moving servitors at his beck! To dance at +the country club with exquisite creatures of chiffon and satin, of +perfume and sweet smiles and careless, happy charms! No, it was too +easy! He might call that his duty to his father and brother, but he +would 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 the +earth! + +Moved by a sudden impulse, Hal raised his hands once more. “Boys,” he +said, “we understand each other now. You’ll not go back to work till the +big union tells you. And I, for my part, will stand by you. Your cause +is my cause, I’ll go on fighting for you till you have your rights, till +you 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 the +men raised theirs, and amid a storm of shouts, and a frantic waving of +caps, he made them the pledge which he knew would bind his own +conscience. He made it deliberately, there in his brother’s presence. +This was no mere charge on a trench, it was enlisting for a war! But +even in that moment of fervour, Hal would have been frightened had he +realised the period of that enlistment, the years of weary and desperate +conflict to which he was pledging his life. + + + +SECTION 15. + +Hal descended from his rostrum, and the crowds made way for him, and +with his brother at his side he went down the street to the office +building, upon the porch of which the guards were standing. His progress +was a triumphal one; rough voices shouted words of encouragement in his +ears, men jostled and fought to shake his hand or to pat him on the +back; they even patted Edward and tried to shake his hand, because he +was with Hal, and seemed to have his confidence. Afterwards Hal thought +it over and was merry. Such an adventure for Edward! + +The younger man went up the steps of the building and spoke to the +guards. “I want to see Mr. Cartwright.” + +“He’s inside,” answered one, not cordially. With Edward following, Hal +entered, and was ushered into the private office of the superintendent. + +Having been a working-man, and class-conscious, Hal was observant of the +manners of mine-superintendents; he noted that Cartwright bowed politely +to Edward, but did not include Edward’s brother. “Mr. Cartwright,” he +said, “I have come to you as a deputation from the workers of this +camp.” + +The superintendent did not appear impressed by the announcement. + +“I am instructed to say that the men demand the redress of four +grievances before they return to work. First--” + +Here Cartwright spoke, in his quick, sharp way. “There’s no use going +on, sir. This company will deal only with its men as individuals. It +will recognise no deputations.” + +Hal’s answer was equally quick. “Very well, Mr. Cartwright. In that +case, 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 this +state. First, the right to belong to a union, without being discharged +for it.” + +The other had recovered his manner of quiet mastery. “You have that +right, sir; you have always had it. You know perfectly well that the +company has never discharged any one for belonging to a union.” + +The man was looking at Hal, and there was a duel of the eyes between +them. A cold anger moved Hal. His ability to endure this sort of thing +was at an end. “Mr. Cartwright,” he said, “you are the servant of one of +the world’s greatest actors; and you support him ably.” + +The other flushed and drew back; Edward put in quickly: “Hal, there’s +nothing to be gained by such talk!” + +“He has all the world for an audience,” persisted Hal. “He plays the +most stupendous farce--and he and all his actors wearing such solemn +faces!” + +“Mr. Cartwright,” said Edward, with dignity, “I trust you understand +that I have done everything I can to restrain my brother.” + +“Of course, Mr. Warner,” replied the superintendent. “And you must know +that I, for my part, have done everything to show your brother +consideration.” + +“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 humour +never was!” + +Cartwright attempted to speak--but looking at Edward, not at Hal. “At +that time--” + +“He showed me consideration by having me locked up in jail and fed on +bread 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 had +seduced 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 girl +to 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 your +making! 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 on +Cartwright’s desk. + +“What are you going to do, Hal?” + +“I am going to get Billy Keating on the wire, and let you hear his +statement.” + +“Oh, rot, Hal!” cried Edward. “I don’t care anything about Keating’s +statement. You know that at that time Mr. Cartwright had no means of +knowing 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 circulate +slanders about working boys in your camp?” + +“You have been here long enough to know what the morals of such boys +are.” + +“I have been here long enough, Mr. Cartwright, to know that if you want +to go into the question of morals in North Valley, the place for you to +begin is with the bosses and guards you put in authority, and allow to +prey upon women.” + +Edward broke in: “Hal, there’s nothing to be gained by pursuing this +conversation. If you have any business here, get it over with, for God’s +sake!” + +Hal made an effort to recover his self-possession. He came back to the +demands of the strike--but only to find that he had used up the +superintendent’s self-possession. “I have given you my answer,” declared +Cartwright, “I absolutely decline any further discussion.” + +“Well,” said Hal, “since you decline to permit a deputation of your men +to deal with you in plain, business-like fashion, I have to inform you +as an individual that every other individual in your camp refuses to +work for you.” + +The superintendent did not let himself be impressed by this elaborate +sarcasm. “All I have to tell you, sir, is that Number Two mine will +resume work in the morning, and that any one who refuses to work will be +sent down the canyon before night.” + +“So quickly, Mr. Cartwright? They have rented their homes from the +company, and you know that according to the company’s own lease they are +entitled 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 the +company. 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 you +would 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 telegraph +from Mr. Peter Harrigan. May I ask to what office Mr. Harrigan has been +elected 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 at +tomato-cans and cinder-heaps, and did not see fit to turn around. But +the superintendent knew that he was hearing, and considered it necessary +to cover the flaw in his argument. “Young man,” said he, “you have +violated 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, company +saloon-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 time +your company owns the saloon-buildings, the boarding-houses, the church +and 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 here +know 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 with +opportunity to incite our employés.” + +“May I ask, Mr. Cartwright, are you speaking as mayor of an American +community, or as superintendent of a coal-mine?” + +Cartwright’s face had been growing continually redder. Addressing +Edward’s back, he said, “I don’t see any reason why this should +continue.” + +And Edward was of the same opinion. He turned. “Really, Hal--” + +“But, Edward! A man accuses your brother of being a law-breaker! Have +you hitherto known of any criminal tendencies in our family?” + +Edward turned to the window again and resumed his study of the +cinder-heaps and tomato-cans. It was a vulgar and stupid quarrel, but he +had seen enough of Hal’s mood to realise that he would go on and on, so +long as any one was indiscreet enough to answer him. + +“You say, Mr. Cartwright, that I have violated the ordinance against +speaking 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 is +expulsion from the town! If I understand legal procedure, I should have +been brought before the justice of the peace--who happens to be another +company store-clerk. Instead of that, I am sentenced by the mayor--or is +it 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 the +superintendent?--may show consideration for the brother of a +law-breaker, by changing his penalty to expulsion from the town. Was it +consideration for Tommie Burke that caused you to have his sister sent +down 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 said +enough!” + +“I hope I’ve said enough,” replied Hal--“to convince you that the +pretence of American law in this coal-camp is a silly farce, an insult +and a humiliation to any man who respects the institutions of his +country.” + +“You, Mr. Warner,” said the superintendent, to Edward, “have had +experience in managing coal-mines. You know what it means to deal with +ignorant foreigners, who have no understanding of American law--” + +Hal burst out laughing. “So you’re teaching them American law! You’re +teaching them by setting at naught every law of your town and state, +every constitutional guarantee--and substituting the instructions you +get by telegraph from Peter Harrigan!” + +Cartwright turned and walked to the door. “Young man,” said he, over his +shoulder, “it will be necessary for you to leave North Valley this +morning. I only hope your brother will be able to persuade you to leave +without trouble.” And the bang of the door behind him was the +superintendent’s only farewell. + + + +SECTION 17. + +Edward turned upon his brother. “Now what the devil did you want to put +me through a scene like that for? So undignified! So utterly uncalled +for! A quarrel with a man so far beneath you!” + +Hal stood where the superintendent had left him. He was looking at his +brother’s angry face. “Was that all you got out of it, Edward?” + +“All that stuff about your private character! What do you care what a +fellow like Cartwright thinks about you?” + +“I care nothing at all what he thinks, but I care about having him use +such a slander. That’s one of their regular procedures, so Billy Keating +says.” + +Edward answered, coldly, “Take my advice, and realise that when you deny +a scandal, you only give it circulation.” + +“Of course,” answered Hal. “That’s what makes me so angry. Think of the +girl, 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. Would +you have felt the same indifference?” + +“He’d not have slandered any friend of mine; I choose my friends more +carefully.” + +“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--you +talk and talk and talk!” + +“I can tell you the reason for that, Edward--a man like you can shut his +eyes, but he can’t shut his ears!” + +“Well, can’t you let up on me for awhile--long enough to get out of this +place? I feel as if I were sitting on the top of a volcano, and I’ve no +idea when it may break out again.” + +Hal began to laugh. “All right,” he said; “I guess I haven’t shown much +appreciation of your visit. I’ll be more sociable now. My next business +is 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, watching +him, realised suddenly a change which had taken place in his own +psychology. Not merely had he acquired the class-consciousness of the +working-man, he had acquired the money-consciousness as well. He was +actually concerned about the dollars the company owed him! He had earned +those dollars by back- and heart-breaking toil, lifting lumps of coal +into cars; the sum was enough to keep the whole Rafferty family alive +for a week or two. And here was Edward, with a smooth brown leather +wallet full of ten- and twenty-dollar bills, which he peeled off without +counting, exactly as if money grew on trees, or as if coal came out of +the 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 his +brother’s mind. He was holding out the bills. “Get yourself some decent +things,” he said. “I hope you don’t have to stay dirty in order to feel +democratic?” + +“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 of +setting off the volcano again. + + + +SECTION 18. + +They went out by the rear door of the office, entered the car, and sped +out of the village, unseen by the crowd. And all the way down the canyon +Edward 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--what +would he do then? Hal answered, without a smile, “I can always get a job +as 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 agree +that what you hear shall be confidential.” + +The other made a face of disgust. “What the devil would I want to talk +about your friends for?” + +“I don’t know what might happen,” said Hal. “You’re going to meet Peter +Harrigan and take his side, and I can’t tell what you might conceive it +your duty to do.” + +The other exclaimed, with sudden passion, “I’ll tell you right now! If +you try to go back to that coal-camp, I swear to God I’ll apply to the +courts and have you shut up in a sanitarium. I don’t think I’d have much +trouble 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 him +that it might be well not to let such an idea rest unimpeached in +Edward’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 is +crazy 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 the +automobile while Hal went inside. The old Scotchman welcomed him warmly, +and told him what news he had. Jerry Minetti had been there that +morning, and MacKellar at his request had telephoned to the office of +the union in Sheridan, and ascertained that Jack David had brought word +about the strike on the previous evening. All parties had been careful +not to mention names, for “leaks” in the telephone were notorious, but +it 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 at +the American Hotel in Pedro, together with James Moylan, secretary of +the district organisation--the latter having come down from Western City +on the same train as Edward. + +This was all satisfactory; but MacKellar added a bit of information of +desperate import--the officers of the union declared that they could not +support a strike at the present time! It was premature, it could lead to +nothing but failure and discouragement to the larger movement they were +planning. + +Such a possibility Hal had himself realised at the outset. But he had +witnessed the new birth of freedom at North Valley, he had seen the +hungry, toil-worn faces of men looking up to him for support; he had +been moved by it, and had come to feel that the union officials must be +moved 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 sink +into utter despair! The labour men must realise that--I must make them!” + +The old Scotchman answered that Minetti had felt the same way. He had +flung caution to the winds, and rushed over to the hotel to see Hartman +and Moylan. Hal decided to follow, and went out to the automobile. + +He explained matters to his brother, whose comment was, Of course! It +was what he had foretold. The poor, mis-guided miners would go back to +their work, and their would-be leader would have to admit the folly of +his course. There was a train for Western City in a couple of hours; it +would be a great favour if Hal would arrange to take it. + +Hal answered shortly that he was going to the American Hotel. His +brother might take him there, if he chose. So Edward gave the order to +the driver of the car. Incidentally, Edward began asking about +clothing-stores in Pedro. While Hal was in the hotel, pleading for the +life of his newly-born labour union, Edward would seek a costume in +which he could “feel like a human being.” + + + +SECTION 19. + +Hal found Jerry Minetti with the two officials in their hotel-room: Jim +Moylan, district secretary, a long, towering Irish boy, black-eyed and +black-haired, quick and sensitive, the sort of person one trusted and +liked at the first moment; and Johann Hartman, local president, a +grey-haired miner of German birth, reserved and slow-spoken, evidently a +man of much strength, both physical and moral. He had need of it, any +one could realise, having charge of a union headquarters in the heart of +this “Empire of Raymond”! + +Hal first told of the kidnapping of the committee. This did not surprise +the officials, he found; it was the thing the companies regularly did +when there was threat of rebellion in the camps. That was why efforts to +organise openly were so utterly hopeless. There was no chance for +anything but a secret propaganda, maintained until every camp had the +nucleus 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 was +begun. There was no slightest hope of success until a lot of +organisation work had been done. + +“But meantime,” argued Hal, “the union at North Valley will go to +pieces!” + +“Perhaps,” was the reply. “We’ll only have to start another. That’s what +the labour movement is like.” + +Jim Moylan was young, and saw Hal’s mood. “Don’t misunderstand us!” he +cried. “It’s heartbreaking--but it’s not in our power to help. We are +charged with building up the union, and we know that if we supported +everything that looked like a strike, we’d be bankrupt the first year. +You can’t imagine how often this same thing happens--hardly a month +we’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,” he +said. “If a mine-disaster was enough to win a strike, God knows our job +would be easy. In Barela, just down the canyon from you, they’ve had +three big explosions--they’ve killed over five hundred men in the past +year!” + +Hal began to see how, in his inexperience, he had lost his sense of +proportion. + +He looked at the two labour leaders, and recalled the picture of such a +person which he had brought with him to North Valley--a hot headed and +fiery agitator, luring honest workingmen from their jobs. But here was +the situation exactly reversed! Here was he in a blaze of +excitement--and two labour leaders turning the fire-hose on him! They +sat quiet and business-like, pronouncing a doom upon the slaves of North +Valley. Back to their black dungeons with them! + +“What can we tell the men?” he asked, making an effort to repress his +chagrin. + +“We can only tell them what I’m telling you--that we’re helpless, till +we’ve got the whole district organised. Meantime, they have to stand the +gaff; 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 had +turned out more than six thousand men because of union activity or +suspicion 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 the +district!” + +“I know that.” + +“Then how can you ever keep an organisation?” + +The other answered, quietly, “They treat the new men the same as they +treated the old.” + +Hal thought suddenly of John Edstrom’s ants! Here they were--building +their bridge, building it again and again, as often as floods might +destroy it! They had not the swift impatience of a youth of the +leisure-class, accustomed to having his own way, accustomed to thinking +of freedom and decency and justice as necessities of life. Much as Hal +learned from the conversation of these men, he learned more from their +silences--the quiet, matter-of-fact way they took things which had +driven him beside himself with indignation. He began to realise what it +would 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 brains +and 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 miners +would have to go back to work, and Cartwright and Alec Stone and Jeff +Cotton would drive them as before! All that the rebels could do was to +try 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 a +minute since our office was opened that we haven’t had half a dozen on +the other side of the street. Every man that comes to see us is followed +back to his camp and fired that same day. They’ve broken into my desk at +night and stolen my letters and papers; they’ve threatened us with death +a 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 in +my head!” + +“No small task, either,” put in Moylan. “Would you like to know how many +organisers we have at work? Ninety-seven. And they haven’t caught a +single 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 a +delicatessen-proprietor; this merry-eyed Irish boy, whom you would have +expected to be escorting a lady to a firemen’s ball----they were +captains of an army of sappers who were undermining the towers of Peter +Harrigan’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 send +word to his family to come to Pedro. In this way he might save himself +to 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. If +Jerry 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 the +Italians. Jerry accepted this proposition with alacrity; it would put +off the evil day when Rosa and her little ones would be left to the +mercy of chance. + +They were still talking when the telephone rang. It was Hartman’s +secretary in Sheridan, reporting that he had just heard from the +kidnapped committee. The entire party, eight men and Mary Burke, had +been taken to Horton, a station not far up the line, and put on the +train with many dire threats. But they had left the train at the next +stop, and declared their intention of coming to Pedro. They were due at +the hotel very soon. + +Hal desired to be present at this meeting, and went downstairs to tell +his brother. There was another dispute, of course. Edward reminded Hal +that the scenery of Pedro had a tendency to monotony; to which Hal could +only answer by offering to introduce his brother to his friends. They +were men who could teach Edward much, if he would consent to learn. He +might attend the session with the committee--eight men and a woman who +had ventured an act of heroism and been made the victims of a crime. Nor +were they bores, as Edward might be thinking! There was blue-eyed Tim +Rafferty, for example, a silent, smutty-faced gnome who had broken out +of his black cavern and spread unexpected golden wings of oratory; and +Mary Burke, of whom Edward might read in that afternoon’s edition of the +Western City _Gazette_--a “Joan of Arc of the coal-camps,” or something +equally picturesque. But Edward’s mood was not to be enlivened. He had a +vision of his brother’s appearance in the paper as the companion of this +Hibernian Joan! + +Hal went off with Jerry Minetti to what his brother described as a +“hash-house,” while Edward proceeded in solitary state to the +dining-room of the American Hotel. But he was not left in solitary +state; pretty soon a sharp-faced young man was ushered to a seat beside +him, and started up a conversation. He was a “drummer,” he said; his +“line” was hardware, what was Edward’s? Edward answered coldly that he +had no “line,” but the young man was not rebuffed--apparently his “line” + had hardened his sensibilities. Perhaps Edward was interested in +coal-mines? Had he been visiting the camps? He questioned so +persistently, and came back so often to the subject, that at last it +dawned over Edward what this meant--he was receiving the attention of a +“spotter!” Strange to say, the circumstance caused Edward more +irritation against Peter Harrigan’s regime than all his brother’s +eloquence about oppression at North Valley. + + + +SECTION 21. + +Soon after dinner the kidnapped committee arrived, bedraggled in body +and weary in soul. They inquired for Johann Hartman, and were sent up to +the room, where there followed a painful scene. Eight men and a woman +who had ventured an act of heroism and been made the victims of a crime +could not easily be persuaded to see their efforts and sacrifices thrown +on the dump-heap, nor were they timid in expressing their opinions of +those who were betraying them. + +“You been tryin’ to get us out!” cried Tim Rafferty. “Ever since I can +remember you been at my old man to help you--an’ here, when we do what +you 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 could +have 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 the +streets, 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 old +man 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 need +charity, I’ll go to the county. They’re another bunch of grafters, but +they don’t pretend to be friends to the workin’ man.” + +Here was the thing Tom Olson had told Hal at the outset--the workingmen +bedevilled, not knowing whom to trust, suspecting the very people who +most desired to help them. “Tim,” he put in, “there’s no use talking +like that. We have to learn patience--” + +And the boy turned upon Hal. “What do you know about it? It’s all a joke +to you. You can go off and forget it when you get ready. You’ve got +money, they tell me!” + +Hal felt no resentment at this; it was what he heard from his own +conscience. “It isn’t so easy for me as you think, Tim. There are other +ways 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’re +just 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 away +our organisation!” + +Moylan became suddenly impassioned. He had seen a dozen sporadic strikes +in this district, and many a dozen young strikers, homeless, desolate, +embittered, turning their disappointment on him. “We might support you +with our funds, you say--we might go on doing it, even while the company +ran the mine with scabs. But where would that land us, Rafferty? I seen +many 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 work +again till they got their rights. But this money we spend is the money +that 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’t +organised--take them in, so they won’t beat down our wages and scab on +us. 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 you +see how that is, man? And how it weighs on us, worse even then the fear +that maybe we’ll lose our poor salaries--though you might refuse to +believe anything so good of us? You don’t need to talk to me like I was +Peter Harrigan’s son. I was a spragger when I was ten years old, and I +ain’t been out of the pits so long that I’ve forgot the feeling. I +assure you, the thing that keeps me awake at night ain’t the fear of not +gettin’ 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’s +wondering whether I’m spending the miners’ money the best way, whether +maybe I mightn’t save them a little misery if I hadn’t ’a’ done this or +had ’a’ done that. When I come down on that sleeper last night, here’s +what I was thinking, Tim Rafferty--all the time I listened to the train +bumping--‘Now I got to see some more of the suffering, I got to let some +good men turn against us, because they can’t see why we should get +salaries while they get the sack. How am I going to show them that I’m +working for them--working as hard as I know how--and that I’m not to +blame for their trouble?’” + +Here Wauchope broke in. “There’s no use talking any more. I see we’re up +against 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 road +for me--and you know it!” + +“Well, wherever you go, it’ll be the same; either you’ll be fighting for +the union, or you’ll be a weight that we have to carry.” + +The young leader turned from one to another of the committee, pleading +with them not to be embittered by this failure, but to turn it to their +profit, going on with the work of building up the solidarity of the +miners. Every man had to make his sacrifices, to pay his part of the +price. The thing of importance was that every man who was discharged +should be a spark of unionism, carrying the flame of revolt to a new +part of the country. Let each one do his part, and there would soon be +no place to which the masters could send for “scabs.” + + + +SECTION 22. + +There was one member of this committee whom Hal watched with especial +anxiety----Mary Burke. She had not yet said a word; while the others +argued 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 and +struggled and hoped, and the result was what she had always said it +would be--nothing! Now he saw her, with eyes large and dark with +fatigue, fixed on this fiery young labour-leader. He knew that a war +must be going on within her. Would she drop out entirely now? It was the +test of her character--as it was the test of the characters of all of +them. + +“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 the +bosses--to hold our jobs, and keep the union alive, till we’ve got into +all the camps, and can strike and win?” + +There was a pause; then Mary spoke. “How’re you meanin’ to tell the +men?” Her voice was without emotion, but nevertheless, Hal’s heart +leaped. Whether Mary had any hope or not, she was going to stay in line +with the rest of the ants! + +Johann Hartman explained his idea. He would have circulars printed in +several languages and distributed secretly in the camp, ordering the men +back to work. But Jerry met this suggestion with a prompt no. The people +would not believe the circulars, they would suspect the bosses of having +them printed. Hadn’t the bosses done worse than that, “framing up” a +letter from Joe Smith to balk the check-weighman movement? The only +thing that would help would be for some of the committee to get into the +camp and see the men face to face. + +“And it got to be quick!” Jerry insisted. “They get notice to work in +morning, and them that don’t be fired. They be the best men, too--men we +want to save.” + +Other members of the committee spoke up, agreeing with this. Said +Rusick, the Slav, slow-witted and slow-spoken, “Them fellers get mighty +damn 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 of +getting away from the hotel, which was being watched by the “spotters.” + Hartman suggested that if they went out all together and scattered, the +detectives could not follow all of them. Those who escaped might get +into North Valley by hiding in the “empties” which went up to the mine. + +But Moylan pointed out that the company would be anticipating this; and +Rusick, 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 lady +could do it better.” + +“They’d beat a lady,” said Minetti. + +“I know, but maybe a lady might fool them. There’s some widows that came +to Pedro for the funerals, and they’re wearin’ veils that hide their +faces. 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 had +stayed 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 veils +enough to hide the lot of us.” + +And here Hal spoke, for the first time since Tim Rafferty had silenced +him. “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 this +situation. 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 back +and eat my words. If we’re relying on veils and things, a man can be +fixed 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 at +Tim Rafferty--“because I’m the only one who doesn’t have to suffer for +the 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, and +I’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 and +have a tea-party with my friend Jeff Cotton!” + + + +SECTION 23. + +Hal proposed going to find Mrs. Zamboni at the place where she was +staying; but Moylan interposed, objecting that the detectives would +surely follow him. Even though they should all go out of the hotel at +once, the one person the detective would surely stick to was the +arch-rebel and trouble-maker, Joe Smith. Finally they decided to bring +Mrs. Zamboni to the room. Let her come with Mrs. Swajka or some other +woman 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 to +have it to pay the undertaker for the burial of her man. The hotel-clerk +might not know who Mary Burke was; but the watchful “spotters” would +gather about and listen, and if it was mentioned that Mary was from +North Valley, some one would connect her with the kidnapped committee. + +This was made clear to Rusick, who hurried off, and in the course of +half an hour returned with the announcement that the women were on the +way. A few minutes later came a tap on the door, and there stood the +black-garbed old widow with her friend. She came in; and then came looks +of dismay and horrified exclamations. Rusick was requesting her to give +up 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 no +clothes!” + +“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 turned +scarlet from her forehead to her ample throat. “Tell her she wrap up in +blankets,” said Hal. “Mary Burke buy her new things.” + +It proved surprisingly difficult to separate Mrs. Zamboni from her +widow’s weeds, which she had purchased with so great an expenditure of +time and tears. Never had a respectable lady who had borne sixteen +children received such a proposition; to sell the insignia of her +grief--and here in a hotel room, crowded with a dozen men! Nor was the +task made easier by the unseemly merriment of the men. “Ai! Jesu!” cried +Mrs. Zamboni again. + +“Tell her it’s very, very important,” said Hal. “Tell her I must have +them.” And then, seeing that Rusick was making poor headway, he joined +in, 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 if +no 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 got +out of her waist and skirt, putting a blanket round her red shoulders +for modesty’s sake. When Hal put the garments on, there was a foot to +spare all round; but after they had stuffed two bed pillows down in the +front of him, and drawn them tight at the waist-line, the disguise was +judged more satisfactory. He put on the old lady’s ample if ragged +shoes, and Mary Burke set the widow’s bonnet on his head and adjusted +the many veils; after that Mrs. Zamboni’s own brood of children would +not have suspected the disguise. + +It was a merry party for a few minutes; worn and hopeless as Mary had +seemed, she was possessed now by the spirit of fun. But then quickly the +laughter died. The time for action had come. Mary Burke said that she +would stay with what was left of Mrs. Zamboni, to answer the door in +case any of the hotel people or the detectives should come. Hal asked +Jim Moylan to see Edward, and say that Hal was writing a manifesto to +the North Valley workers, and would not be ready to leave until the +midnight train. + +These things agreed upon, Hal shook hands all round, and the eleven men +left the room at once, going down stairs and through the lobby, +scattering in every direction on the streets. Mrs. Swajka and the +pseudo-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. But +before 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 the +magazine under his arm said that he had selected it in a last hopeless +effort against the monotony of Pedro. Such a trick of fate, to take a +man of important affairs, and immure him at the mercy of a maniac in a +God-forsaken coal-town! What did people do in such a hole? Pay a nickel +to look at moving pictures of cow-boys and counterfeiters? + +Edward’s aspect was too much for Hal’s sense of humour. Besides, he had +a good excuse; was it not proper to make a test of his disguise, before +facing 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’s +brother, 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 in +grave-yard. I got to pay thirty dollar for bury them pieces and I don’t +got 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, if +I 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 woman +like me. When I go home I hear them children crying and I don’t got no +food, and them company-stores don’t give me no food. I think maybe you +Joe 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 them +children.” + +“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, “For +heaven’s sake, here!” + +Mrs. Zamboni clutched the bill with greedy fingers, but was not +appeased. “You got plenty money, Mister! You rich man, hey! You maybe +give me all them moneys, so I got plenty feed them children? You don’t +know them company-stores, Mister, them prices is way up high like +mountains; them children is hungry, they cry all day and night, and one +piece 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.” He +pulled off another bill. + +“What you need so much, Mister? You don’t got so many children, hey? And +you 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 moneys +from good man. I like you, Mister Smith, you give money for poor +widow-woman--you nice man.” + +And the dreadful creature actually stuck out one of her paws, as if +expecting to pat Edward on the cheek, or to chuck him under the chin. He +recoiled, as from a contagion; but she followed him, determined to do +something to him, he could not be sure what. He had heard that these +foreigners had strange customs! + +“It’s all right! It’s nothing!” he insisted, and fell back--at the same +time glancing nervously about, to see if there were spectators of this +scene. + +“Nice man, Mister! Nice man!” cried the old woman, with increasing +cordiality. “Maybe some day I find man like you, Mr. Edward Smith--so I +don’t stay widow-woman no more. You think maybe you like to marry nice +Slavish woman, got plenty nice children?” + +Edward, perceiving that the matter was getting desperate, sprang to one +side. It was a spring which should have carried him to safety; but to +his dismay the Slavish widow sprang also--her claws caught him under the +arm-pit, and fastening in his ribs, gave him a ferocious pinch. After +which the owner of the claws went down the street, not looking back, but +making strange gobbling noises, which might have been the weeping of a +bereaved 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 there +would be just time to accomplish his errand and catch the last train +back. He took his seat in the car without attracting attention, and sat +in his place until they were approaching their destination, the last +stop 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, and +moved over beside her. She made place, with some remark; but Hal merely +sobbed softly, and the woman felt for his hand to comfort him. As his +hands were clasped together under the veils, she patted him reassuringly +on the knee. + +At the boundary of the stockaded village the train stopped, and Bud +Adams came through the car, scrutinising every passenger. Seeing this, +Hal began to sob again, and murmured something indistinct to his +companion--which caused her to lean towards him, speaking volubly in her +native language. “Bud” passed by. + +When Hal came to leave the train, he took his companion’s arm; he sobbed +some 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 woman +joined them, and they walked down the street, the women conversing in +Slavish, apparently without a suspicion of Hal. + +He had worked out his plan of action. He would not try to talk with the +men secretly--it would take too long, and he might be betrayed before he +had talked with a sufficient number. One bold stroke was the thing. In +half an hour it would be supper-time, and the feeders would gather in +Reminitsky’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 Minetti +home. To the astonished Rosa he revealed himself, and gave her husband’s +message--that she should take herself and the children down to Pedro, +and wait quietly until she heard from him. She hurried out and brought +in Jack David, to whom Hal explained matters. “Big Jack’s” part in the +recent disturbance had apparently not been suspected; he and his wife, +with Rovetta, Wresmak, and Klowoski, would remain as a nucleus through +which the union could work upon the men. + +The supper-hour was at hand, and the pseudo-Mrs. Zamboni emerged and +toddled down the street. As she passed into the dining-room of the +boarding-house, men looked at her, but no one spoke. It was the stage of +the meal where everybody was grabbing and devouring, in the effort to +get the best of his grabbing and devouring neighbours. The black-clad +figure went to the far end of the room; there was a vacant chair, and +the figure pulled it back from the table and climbed upon it. Then a +shout rang through the room: “Boys! Boys!” + +The feeders looked up, and saw the widow’s weeds thrown back, and their +leader, Joe Smith, gazing out at them. “Boys! I’ve come with a message +from 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 man +continued to move them. + +“Boys! I’ve been down to Pedro and seen the union people. I knew the +bosses 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 were +cheers, 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 of +dismay. He went on: + +“We are only one camp, and the bosses would turn us out, they’d get in +scabs and run the mines without us. What we must have is a strike of all +the camps at once. One big union and one big strike! If we walked out +now, it would please the bosses; but we’ll fool them--we’ll keep our +jobs, and keep our union too! You are members of the union, you’ll go on +working for the union! Hooray for the North Valley union!” + +For a moment there was no response. It was hard for men to cheer over +such 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 my +part--it took nerve to get in here! In Mrs. Zamboni’s clothes, and with +two pillows stuffed in front of me!” + +He thumped the pillows, and there was a burst of laughter. Many in the +crowd knew Mrs. Zamboni--it was what comedians call a “local gag.” The +laughter 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, of +course, it was easy for Hal to get a response when he shouted, “Hurrah +for 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 going +to work and keep your jobs, and get ready for the big strike. And you’ll +tell the other men what I say. I can’t talk to them all, but you tell +them about the union. Remember, there are people outside planning and +fighting for you. We’re going to stand by the union, all of us, till +we’ve brought these coal-camps back into America!” There was a cheer +that shook the walls of the room. Yes, that was what they wanted--to +live in America! + +A crowd of men had gathered in the doorway, attracted by the uproar; Hal +noticed confusion and pushing, and saw the head and burly shoulders of +his enemy, Pete Hanun, come into sight. + +“Here come the gunmen, boys!” he cried; and there was a roar of anger +from 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 you +the message from the union. And you’ll tell the other men--tell them to +stand by the union!” + +Hal went on, repeating his message over and over. Looking from one to +another of these toil-worn faces, he remembered the pledge he had made +them, and he made it anew: “I’m going to stand by you! I’m going on with +the fight, boys!” + +There came more disturbance at the door, and suddenly Jeff Cotton +appeared, with a couple of additional guards, shoving their way into the +room, breathless and red in the face from running. + +“Ah, there’s the marshal!” cried Hal. “You needn’t push, Cotton, there’s +not going to be any trouble. We are union men here, we know how to +control 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, and +we mean to keep it! Three cheers for the union!” + +The cheers rang out with a will: cheers for the union, cheers for Joe +Smith, cheers for the widow and her weeds! + +“You belong to the union! You stand by it, no matter what happens! If +they fire you, you take it on to the next place! You teach it to the new +men, you never let it die in your hearts! In union there is strength, in +union 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!” The +crowd howled; and Hal descended from his platform. With coquettish +gesturing he replaced the widow’s veils about his face, and tripped +mincingly across the dining-room. When he reached the camp-marshal, he +daintily took that worthy’s arm, and with the “breaker of teeth” on the +other side, and Bud Adams bringing up the rear, he toddled out of the +dining-room and down the street. + +Hungry men gave up their suppers to behold that sight. They poured out +of the building, they followed, laughing, shouting, jeering. Others came +from every direction--by the time the party had reached the depot, a +good part of the population of the village was on hand; and everywhere +went the word, “It’s Joe Smith! Come back with a message from the +union!” Big, coal-grimed miners laughed till the tears made streaks on +their faces; they fell on one another’s necks for delight at this trick +which had been played upon their oppressors. + +Even Jeff Cotton could not withhold his tribute. “By God, you’re the +limit!” he muttered. He accepted the “tea-party” aspect of the affair, +as the easiest way to get rid of his recurrent guest, and avert the +possibilities of danger. He escorted the widow to the train and helped +her up the steps, posting escorts at the doors of her car; nor did the +attentions of these gallants cease until the train had moved down the +canyon 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 he +had worn for the benefit of the men. There came a sudden reaction; he +realised that he was tired. + +For ten days he had lived in a whirl of excitement, scarcely stopping to +sleep. 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 was +failure. There was left in him no trace of that spirit of adventure with +which he had set out upon his “summer course in practical sociology.” He +had studied his lessons, tried to recite them, and been “flunked.” He +smiled a bitter smile, recollecting the careless jesting that had been +on 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 drove +to 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 which +he had acquired during the last ten weeks had become a habit. He would +return them to Mrs. Zamboni. The money he had promised her might better +be used to feed her young ones. The two pillows he would leave in the +car; the hotel might endure the loss! + +Entering the lobby, the first person Hal saw was his brother, and the +sight of that patrician face made human by disgust relieved Hal’s +headache 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 that +you’ve got under your arm?” + +Hal looked at the bundle. “It’s a souvenir of one of the widows,” he +said, and unrolled the garments and spread them out before his brother’s +puzzled eyes. “A lady named Mrs. Swajka gave them to me. They belonged +to 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 lowered +his voice, confidentially. “It’s a romance, Edward--it may interest you +as an illustration of the manners of these foreign races. She met a man +on the street, a fine, fine man, she says--and he gave her a lot of +money. So she went and bought herself some new clothes, and she wants to +give these widow’s weeds to the new man. That’s the custom in her +country, it seems--her sign that she accepts him as a suitor.” + +Seeing the look of wonderment growing on his brother’s face, Hal had to +stop for a moment to keep his own face straight. “If that man wasn’t +serious 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 hotel +lobby to demonstrate her emotional nature. + +“No,” replied Hal, “it’s just one of those differences in national +customs.” And suddenly Hal’s face gave way. He began to laugh; he +laughed, perhaps more loudly than good form permitted. + +Edward was much annoyed. There were people in the lobby, and they were +staring at him. “Cut it out, Hal!” he exclaimed. “Your fool jokes bore +me!” But nevertheless, Hal could see uncertainty in his brother’s face. +Edward recognised those widow’s weeds. And how could he be sure about +the “national customs” of that grotesque creature who had pinched him in +the 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 I +don’t find no new man for old woman like me!” + +So at last the truth in its full enormity began to dawn upon Edward. His +consternation and disgust poured themselves out; and Hal listened, his +laughter dying. “Edward,” he said, “you don’t take me seriously even +yet!” + +“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 get +yourself killed, in spite of all I can do!” + +But Hal only laughed. “Not a chance of it! You should have seen the +tea-party manners of the camp-marshal!” + + + +SECTION 27. + +Edward would have endeavoured to carry his brother away forthwith, but +there was no train until late at night; so Hal went upstairs, where he +found Moylan and Hartman with Mary Burke and Mrs. Zamboni, all eager to +hear his story. As the members of the committee, who had been out to +supper, came straggling in, the story was told again, and yet again. +They were almost as much delighted as the men in Reminitsky’s. If only +all strikes that had to be called off could be called off as neatly as +that! + +Between these outbursts of satisfaction, they discussed their future. +Moylan was going back to Western City, Hartman to his office in +Sheridan, from which he would arrange to send new organisers into North +Valley. No doubt Cartwright would turn off many men--those who had made +themselves conspicuous during the strike, those who continued to talk +union out loud. But such men would have to be replaced, and the union +knew through what agencies the company got its hands. The North Valley +miners would find themselves mysteriously provided with union literature +in their various languages; it would be slipped under their pillows, or +into their dinner-pails, or the pockets of their coats while they were +at work. + +Also there was propaganda to be carried on among those who were turned +away; so that, wherever they went, they would take the message of +unionism. There had been a sympathetic outburst in Barela, Hal +learned--starting quite spontaneously that morning, when the men heard +what 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 the +members of the kidnapped committee; Tim Rafferty, for example--would he +care to stay in Pedro for a week or two, to meet such men, and give them +literature and arguments? + +This offer was welcome; for life looked desolate to the Irish boy at +this moment. He was out of a job, his father was a wreck, his family +destitute and helpless. They would have to leave their home, of course; +there would be no place for any Rafferty in North Valley. Where they +would go, God only knew; Tim would become a wanderer, living away from +his 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 others +equally pitiful. He had the right to sign his father’s name to checks, a +privilege which he believed he could retain, even while undertaking the +role of Haroun al Raschid in a mine-disaster. But what about the +mine-disasters and abortive strikes where there did not happen to be any +Haroun al Raschid at hand? What about those people, right in North +Valley, who did not happen to have told Hal of their affairs? He +perceived that it was only by turning his back and running that he would +escape from his adventure with any portion of his self-possession. +Truly, this fair-seeming and wonderful civilisation was like the floor +of a charnel-house or a field of battle; anywhere one drove a spade +beneath its surface, he uncovered horrors, sights for the eyes and +stenches for the nostrils that caused him to turn sick! + +There was Rusick, for example; he had a wife and two children, and not a +dollar in the world. In the year and more that he had worked, faithfully +and persistently, to get out coal for Peter Harrigan, he had never once +been able to get ahead of his bill for the necessities of life at Old +Peter’s store. All his belongings in the world could be carried in a +bundle on his back, and whether he ever saw these again would depend +upon the whim of old Peter’s camp-marshal and guards. Rusick would take +to the road, with a ticket purchased by the union. Perhaps he would find +a job and perhaps not; in any case, the best he could hope for in life +was to work for some other Harrigan, and run into debt at some other +company-store. + +There was Hobianish, a Serbian, and Hernandez, a Mexican, of whom the +same things were true, except that one had four children and the other +six. 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’s +pleadings; he was down and out; he would take to the road, and beat his +way to the East and back to England. They called this a free country! By +God, if he were to tell what had happened to him, he could not get an +English miner to believe it! + +Hal gave these men his real name and address, and made them promise to +let him know how they got along. He would help a little, he said; in his +mind he was figuring how much he ought to do. How far shall a man go in +relieving the starvation about him, before he can enjoy his meals in a +well-appointed club? What casuist will work out this problem--telling +him the percentage he shall relieve of the starvation he happens +personally to know about, the percentage of that which he sees on the +streets, the percentage of that about which he reads in government +reports on the rise in the cost of living. To what extent is he +permitted to close his eyes, as he walks along the streets on his way to +the club? To what extent is he permitted to avoid reading government +reports before going out to dinner-dances with his fiancée? Problems +such as these the masters of the higher mathematics have neglected to +solve; the wise men of the academies and the holy men of the churches +have likewise failed to work out the formulas; and Hal, trying to obtain +them by his crude mental arithmetic, found no satisfaction in the +results. + + + +SECTION 28. + +Hal wanted a chance to talk to Mary Burke; they had had no intimate talk +since the meeting with Jessie Arthur, and now he was going away, for a +long 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 able +to lift this girl from despair, his summer course in practical sociology +had not been all a failure! + +He asked her to go with him to say good-bye to John Edstrom, whom he had +not seen since their unceremonious parting at MacKellar’s, when Hal had +fled to Percy Harrigan’s train. Downstairs in the lobby Hal explained +his errand to his waiting brother, who made no comment, but merely +remarked that he would follow, if Hal had no objection. He did not care +to make the acquaintance of the Hibernian Joan of Arc, and would not +come 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 there +set out a moon-light procession--first Hal and Mary, then Edward, and +then Edward’s dinner-table companion, the “hardware-drummer!” + +Hal was embarrassed in beginning his farewell talk with Mary. He had no +idea how she felt towards him, and he admitted with a guilty pang that +he 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 the +strike. But she did not respond to his remarks, and at last he realised +that she was labouring with some thoughts of her own. + +“There’s somethin’ I got to say to ye!” she began, suddenly. “A couple +of 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’s +I 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 know +I’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 said +about--about goin’ away with ye? I take it back.” + +“Oh, of course!” said he, quickly. “You were distracted, Mary--you +didn’t know what you were saying.” + +“No, no! That’s not it! But I’ve changed my mind; I don’t mean to throw +meself 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’d +rather ye knew the truth. ’Tis that I’ve seen the other girl; and I hate +her!” + +They walked for a bit in silence. Hal had sense enough to realise that +here was a difficult subject. “I don’t want to be a prig, Mary,” he said +gently; “but you’ll change your mind about that, too. You’ll not hate +her; 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 have +a wonderful thing to live and fight for; while she”--he hesitated a +moment, for he was not sure of his own ideas on this subject--“she has +so many things to learn; and she may never learn them. She’ll miss some +fine 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 in +silence: “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 pretty +adventure--bein’ a workin’ man for a few weeks. Well, that’s a part of +what I have to tell ye. I’ve got my pride, even if I’m only a poor +miner’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 the +kind 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 and +had it all out. I can see this much--’tis not her fault, maybe--’tis her +class; ’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 here +and been one of us workin’ people. But don’t your own sense tell you +the difference, as if it was a canyon a million miles across--between a +poor ignorant creature in a minin’ camp, and a rich man’s daughter, a +lady? Ye’d tell me not to be ashamed of poverty; but would ye ever put +me by the side of her--for all your fine feelin’s of friendship for them +that’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 to +obeying Jessie! I knew her a long time before I knew you.” + +“Ah, Joe! Ye’ve a kind heart, and a pleasant way of speakin’. But +wouldn’t it interest ye to know the real truth? Ye said ye’d come out +here 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 was +when she was deeply moved. She went on: + +“I lived all me life in minin’ camps, Joe Smith, and I seen men robbed +and 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, or +what it meant--till that day, there at the Minettis’. I’d read about +fine ladies in books, ye see; but I’d never been spoke to by one, I’d +never had to swallow one, as ye might say. But there I did--and all at +once I seemed to know where the money goes that’s wrung out of the +miners. I saw why people were robbin’ us, grindin’ the life out of +us--for fine ladies like that, to keep them so shinin’ and soft! ’Twould +not have been so bad, if she’d not come just then, with all the men and +boys dyin’ down in the pits--dyin’ for that soft, white skin, and those +soft, white hands, and all those silky things she swished round in. My +God, Joe--d’ye know what she seemed to me like? Like a smooth, sleek cat +that has just eat up a whole nest full of baby mice, and has the blood +of them all over her cheeks!” + +Mary paused, breathing hard. Hal kept silence, and she went on again: “I +had it out with meself, Joe! I don’t want ye to think I’m any better +than I am, and I asked meself this question--Is it for the men in the +pits that ye hate her with such black murder? Or is it for the one man +ye want, and that she’s got? And I knew the answer to that! But then I +asked 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, not +for 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 the +Minettis’. The shame of it--not what she done to me, but what she made +me in me own eyes! Me, the daughter of a drunken old miner, and her--I +don’t know what her father is, but she’s some sort of princess, and she +knows it. And that’s the thing that counts, Joe! ’Tis not that she has +so much money, and so many fine things; that she knows how to talk, and +I 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 to +say it; she’s sure--sure--_sure!_ She has the fine things, she’s always +had 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 the +roof over me head! Joe, ye know I’ve got some temper--I’m not easy to +beat down; but when I’d got through bein’ taught me place, I went off +and 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 them +out in the moonlight, with a swift, passionate gesture. “So she’s a +right to her man, and I’m a fool to have ever raised me eyes to him! I +have 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 he +says? Why, he tells me gently and kindly that I ought to be sorry for +her! Christ! did ye ever hear the like of that?” + +There was a long silence. Hal could not have said anything now, if he +had wished to. He knew that this was what he had come to seek! This was +the naked soul of the class-war! + +“Now,” concluded Mary, with clenched hands, and a voice that +corresponded, “now, I’ve had it out. I’m no slave; I’ve just as good a +right to life as any lady. I know I’ll never have it, of course; I’ll +never wear good clothes, nor live in a decent home, nor have the man I +want; 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 done +for me, Joe! The strike showed me the way. We’re beat this time, but +somehow it hasn’t made the difference ye might think. I’m goin’ to make +more strikes before I quit, and they won’t all of them be beat!” + +She stopped speaking; and Hal walked beside her, stirred by a conflict +of emotions. His vision of her was indeed true; she would make more +strikes! He was glad and proud of that; but then came the thought that +while she, a girl, was going on with the bitter war, he, a man, would be +eating 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 where +ye were born--” + +“Perhaps not, Mary. But when a man knows he’s never paid for any of the +things he’s enjoyed all his life, surely the least he can do is to be +ashamed. 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, I +love ye as much as ever. I can say it, because I’d not have ye now; I’ve +seen the other girl, and I know ye’d never be satisfied with me. I don’t +know if I ought to say it, but I’m thinkin’ ye’ll not be altogether +satisfied 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 deeply +that Hal could not trust himself to answer. They were passing a +street-lamp, and she looked at him, for the first time since they had +started on their walk, and saw harassment in his face. A sudden +tenderness 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 a +catch in his voice. + +“Sure, lad!” she exclaimed. “We’ll make another strike some day, just +like we did at North Valley!” + +Hal pressed the big hand; but then suddenly, remembering his brother +stalking solemnly in the rear, he relinquished the clasp, and failed to +say 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 labouring +man’s wife opened the door. In answer to Hal’s question, she said, “The +old 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 from +MacKellar’s. “Have you had a doctor for him?” + +“Yes, sir; but we can’t do much, because my man is out of work, and I +have the children and the boarders to look after.” + +Hal and Mary ran upstairs. Their old friend lay in darkness, but he +recognised their voices and greeted them with a feeble cry. The woman +brought a lamp, and they saw him lying on his back, his head done up in +bandages, and one arm bound in splints. He looked really desperately +bad, his kindly old eyes deep-sunken and haggard, and his face--Hal +remembered what Jeff Cotton had called him, “that dough-faced old +preacher!” + +They got the story of what had happened at the time of Hal’s flight to +Percy’s train. Edstrom had shouted a warning to the fugitives, and set +out 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 struck +his head upon the pavement, and lain there unconscious for many hours. +When finally some one had come upon him, and summoned a policeman, they +had gone through his pockets, and found the address of this place where +he was staying written on a scrap of paper. That was all there was to +the story--except that Edstrom had refrained from sending to MacKellar +for help, because he had felt sure they were all working to get the mine +open, and he did not feel he had the right to put his troubles upon +them. + +Hal listened to the old man’s feeble statements, and there came back to +him a surge of that fury which his North Valley experience had generated +in him. It was foolish, perhaps; for to knock down an old man who had +been making trouble was a comparatively slight exercise of the functions +of a mine-guard. But to Hal it seemed the most characteristic of all the +outrages he had seen; it was an expression of the company’s utter +blindness 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 had +kept his faith so true! What did his faith mean to the thugs of the +General Fuel Company? What had his philosophy availed him, his +saintliness, his hopes for mankind? They had fetched him one swipe as +they 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 old +man’s whispered story, his satisfaction died. He realised again the grim +truth about his summer’s experience--that the issue of it had been +defeat. Utter, unqualified defeat! He had caused the bosses a momentary +chagrin; but it would not take them many hours to realise that he had +really done them a service in calling off the strike for them. They +would start the wheels of industry again, and the workers would be just +where they had been before Joe Smith came to be stableman and buddy +among them. What was all the talk about solidarity, about hope for the +future; what would it amount to in the long run, the daily rolling of +the wheels of industry? The workers of North Valley would have exactly +the right they had always had--the right to be slaves, and if they did +not care for that, the right to be martyrs! + +Mary sat holding the old man’s hand and whispering words of passionate +sympathy, while Hal got up and paced the tiny attic, all ablaze with +anger. 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 to +punish the men who were guilty of this outrage. He would test out the +law to the limit; if necessary, he would begin a political fight, to put +an end to coal-company rule in this community. He would find some one to +write up these conditions, he would raise the money and publish a paper +to make them known! Before his surging wrath had spent itself, Hal +Warner had actually come out as a candidate for governor, and was +overturning the Republican machine--all because an unidentified +coal-company detective had knocked a dough-faced old miner into the +gutter and broken his arm! + + + +SECTION 31. + +In the end, of course, Hal had to come down to practical matters. He sat +by the bed and told the old man tactfully that his brother had come to +see 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, Mary +could 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 her +little home, it seemed, but if Mary could share a bed with the +landlady’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 take +some of his money, because of old Edstrom’s need, but she would take +just as little as she possibly could. + +John Edstrom of course knew nothing of events since his injury, so Hal +told him the story briefly--though without mentioning the transformation +which had taken place in the miner’s buddy. He told about the part Mary +had played in the strike; trying to entertain the poor old man, he told +how he had seen her mounted upon a snow-white horse, and wearing a robe +of white, soft and lustrous, like Joan of Arc, or the leader of a +suffrage parade. + +“Sure,” said Mary, “he’s forever callin’ attention to this old dress!” + +Hal looked; she was wearing the same blue calico. “There’s something +mysterious about that dress,” said he. “It’s one of those that you read +about in fairy-stories, that forever patch themselves, and keep +themselves 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, and +irons it next mornin’.” + +She said this with unwavering cheerfulness; but even the old miner lying +in pain on the cot could realise the tragedy of a young girl’s having +only one old dress in her love-hunting season. He looked at the young +couple, and saw their evident interest in each other; after the fashion +of the old, he was disposed to help along the romance. “She may need +some orange blossoms,” he ventured, feebly. + +“Go along with ye!” laughed Mary, still unwavering. + +“Sure,” put in Hal, with hasty gallantry, “’tis a blossom she is +herself! A rose in a mining-camp--and there’s a dispute about her in the +poetry-books. One tells you to leave her on her stalk, and another says +to 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 white +horse.” + +“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 stay +in the line! Ye were wiser than me, Mr. Edstrom.” + +“That’s one of the things that come with being old, Mary.” He moved his +gnarled old hand toward hers. “You’re going on, now?” he asked. “You’re +a 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 a +way to get some education for yourself, Mary, and when the big strike +comes you’ll be one of those the miners look to. I’ll not be here, I +know--the young people must take my place.” + +“I’ll do my part,” she answered. Her voice was low; it was a kind of +benediction the old man was giving her. + +The woman had gone downstairs to attend to her children; she came back +now to say that there was a gentleman at the door, who wanted to know +when his brother was coming. Hal remembered suddenly--Edward had been +pacing up and down all this while, with no company but a “hardware +drummer!” The younger brother’s resolve to stay in Pedro had already +begun to weaken somewhat, and now it weakened still further; he realised +that life is complex, that duties conflict! He assured the old miner +again of his ability to see that he did not suffer from want, and then +he bade him farewell for a while. + +He started out, and Mary went as far as the head of the stairway with +him. He took the girl’s big, rough hand in his--this time with no one to +see. “Mary,” he said, “I want you to know that nothing will make me +forget 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 so +bad!” + +“I’m going back home for a while,” he answered, “but you can be sure +that no matter what happens in my life, I’m going to fight for the +working people. When the big strike comes, as we know it’s coming in +this coal-country, I’ll be here to do my share.” + +“Sure lad,” she said, looking him bravely in the eye, “and good-bye to +ye, Joe Smith.” Her eyes did not waver; but Hal noted a catch in her +voice, and he found himself with an impulse to take her in his arms. It +was very puzzling. He knew he loved Jessie Arthur; he remembered the +question Mary had once asked him--could he be in love with two girls at +the same time? It was not in accord with any moral code that had been +impressed upon him, but apparently he could! + + + +SECTION 32. + +He went out to the street, where his brother was pacing up and down in a +ferment. The “hardware drummer” had made another effort to start a +conversation, and had been told to go to hell--no less! + +“Well, are you through now?” Edward demanded, taking out his irritation +on Hal. + +“Yes,” replied the other. “I suppose so.” He realised that Edward would +not 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 looked +at him sharply. Even by the moonlight Edward could see the lines in the +face of his younger brother, and the hollows around his eyes. For the +first time he realised how deeply these experiences were cutting into +the boy’s soul. “You poor kid!” he exclaimed, with sudden feeling. But +Hal 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 do +for you!” + +They started back to the hotel, and on the way Edward cast about in his +mind for a harmless subject of conversation. He mentioned that he had +foreseen the shutting up of the stores, and had purchased an outfit for +his brother. There was no need to thank him, he added grimly; he had no +intention 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. (Never +again would it be possible for ladies to say in Hal Warner’s presence +that the poor might at least keep clean!) He had a shave; he trimmed his +finger-nails, and brushed his hair, and dressed himself as a gentleman. +In spite of himself he found his cheerfulness partly restored. A strange +and wonderful sensation--to be dressed once more as a gentleman. He +thought 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 misadventure +befell Edward. Hal saw an old miner walking past, and stopped with a +cry: “Mike!” He forgot all at once that he was a gentleman; the old +miner forgot it also. He stared for one bewildered moment, then he +rushed 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 the +back. “By Judas!” And he gave him a thump with the other hand. “Hey! you +old son-of-a-gun!” And he gave him a hairy kiss! + +But in the very midst of these raptures it dawned over him that there +was something wrong about his buddy. He drew back, staring. “You got +good 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 me +two-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 jobs +in this district!’” + +Hal looked Mike over, and saw that his dirty old face was drawn and +white, belying the feeble cheerfulness of his words. “We’re going to +have 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?” He +accepted gingerly the calloused paw which the old Slovak held out to +him, but he could not keep the look of irritation from his face. His +patience was utterly exhausted. He had hoped to find a decent restaurant +and have some real food; but now, of course, he could not enjoy +anything, with this old gobbler in front of him. + +They entered an all-night lunch-room, where Hal and Mike ordered +cheese-sandwiches and milk, and Edward sat and wondered at his brother’s +ability to eat such food. Meantime the two cronies told each other their +stories, and Old Mike slapped his knee and cried out with delight over +Hal’s exploits. “Oh, you buddy!” he exclaimed; then, to Edward, “Ain’t +he 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 North +Valley jail, when he had been distributing the copies of Hal’s +signature, and Bud Adams had taken him in charge. The mine-guard had +marched him into a shed in back of the power-house, where he had found +Kauser and Kalovac, two other fellows who had been arrested while +helping in the distribution. + +Mike detailed the experience with his usual animation. “‘Hey, Mister +Bud,’ I say, ‘if you going to send me down canyon, I want to get my +things.’ ‘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 plenty +time 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-seven +years old, never been in automobile ride all my days. I think always I +die and never get in automobile ride!’ We go down canyon, and I look +round and see them mountains, and feel nice cool wind in my face, and I +say, ‘Bully for you, Mister Bud, I don’t never forget this automobile. I +don’t have such good time any day all my life.’ And he say, ‘Shut your +face, you old wop!’ Then we come out on prairie, we go up in Black +Hills, and they stop, and say, ‘Get out here, you sons o’ guns.’ And +they leave us there all alone. They say, ‘You come back again, we catch +you and we rip the guts out of you!’ They go away fast, and we got to +walk seven hours, us fellers, before we come to a house! But I don’t +mind that, I begged some grub, and then I got job mending track; only I +don’t find out if you get out of jail, and I think maybe I lose my buddy +and never see him no more.” + +Here the old man stopped, gazing affectionately at Hal. “I write you +letter to North Valley, but I don’t hear nothing, and I got to walk all +the way on railroad track to look for you.” + +How was it? Hal wondered. He had encountered naked horror in this +coal-country--yet here he was, not entirely glad at the thought of +leaving it! He would miss Old Mike Sikoria, his hairy kiss and his +grizzly-bear hug! + +He struck the old man dumb by pressing a twenty-dollar bill into his +hand. Also he gave him the address of Edstrom and Mary, and a note to +Johann Hartman, who might use him to work among the Slovaks who came +down into the town. Hal explained that he had to go back to Western City +that night, but that he would never forget his old friend, and would see +that he had a good job. He was trying to figure out some occupation for +the old man on his father’s country-place. A pet grizzly! + +Train-time came, and the long line of dark sleepers rolled in by the +depot-platform. It was late--after midnight; but, nevertheless, there +was Old Mike. He was in awe of Hal now, with his fine clothes and his +twenty-dollar bills; but, nevertheless, under stress of his emotion, he +gave him one more hug, and one more hairy kiss. “Good-bye, my buddy!” he +cried. “You come back, my buddy! I don’t forget my buddy!” And when the +train began to move, he waved his ragged cap, and ran along the platform +to get a last glimpse, to call a last farewell. When Hal turned into the +car, 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 whether +it is true to fact. They write to ask if the book is meant to be so +taken; they ask for evidence to convince themselves and others. Having +answered thousands of such letters in the course of his life, it seems +to the author the part of common-sense to answer some of them in +advance. + +“King Coal” is a picture of the life of the workers in unorganised +labour-camps in many parts of America, The writer has avoided naming a +definite place, for the reason that such conditions are to be found as +far apart as West Virginia, Alabama, Michigan, Minnesota, and Colorado. +Most of the details of his picture were gathered in the last-named +state, which the writer visited on three occasions during and just after +the great coal-strike of 1913-14. The book gives a true picture of +conditions and events observed by him at this time. Practically all the +characters are real persons, and every incident which has social +significance is not merely a true incident, but a typical one. The life +portrayed in “King Coal” is the life that is lived to-day by hundreds of +thousands of men, women and children in this “land of the free.” + +The reader who wishes evidence may be accommodated. There was never a +strike more investigated than the Colorado coal-strike. The material +about it in the writer’s possession cannot be less than eight million +words, the greater part of it sworn testimony taken under government +supervision. There is, first, the report of the Congressional Committee, +a government document of three thousand closely printed pages, about two +million words; an equal amount of testimony given before the U. S. +Commission on Industrial Relations, also a government document; a +special report on the Colorado strike, prepared for the same commission, +a book of 189 pages, supporting every contention of this story; about +four hundred thousand words of testimony given before a committee +appointed at the suggestion of the Governor of Colorado; a report made +by the Rev. Henry A. Atkinson, who investigated the strike as +representative of the Federal Council of the Churches of Christ in +America, and of the Social Service Commission of the Congregational +Churches; the report of an elaborate investigation by the Colorado state +militia; the bulletins issued by both sides during the controversy; the +testimony given at various coroners’ inquests; and, finally, articles by +different 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 in +the hands of the publishers, there appeared one document, which, in the +weight of its authority, seemed to discount all others. A decision was +rendered by the Supreme Court of the State of Colorado, in a case which +included 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 so +fortunate as to have the truth of his work passed upon and established +by 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 known +throughout the coal-country as “the King of Huerfano County,” was +returned as elected by a majority of 329 votes. His rival, the +Democratic candidate, contested the election, alleging “malconduct, +fraud and corruption.” The district court found in Farr’s favour, and +the case was appealed on error to the Supreme Court of the State. On +June 21st, 1916, after Farr had served nearly the whole of his term of +office, the Supreme Court handed down a decision which unseated him and +the entire ticket elected with him, finding in favour of the opposition +ticket in all cases and upon all grounds charged. + +The decision is long--about ten thousand words, and its legal +technicalities would not interest the reader. It will suffice to reprint +the essential paragraphs. The reader is asked to give these paragraphs +careful study, considering, not merely the specific offence denounced by +the court, but its wider implications. The offence was one so +unprecedented that the justices of the court, men chosen for their +learning in the history of offences, were moved to say: “We find no such +example of fraud within the books, and must seek the letter and spirit +of the law in a free government, as a scale in which to weigh such +conduct.” And let it be noted, this “crime without a name” was not a +crime of passion, but of policy; it was a crime deliberately planned and +carried out by profit-seeking corporations of enormous power. Let the +reader imagine the psychology of the men of great wealth who ordered +this crime, as a means of keeping and increasing their wealth; let him +realise 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 “King +Coal” which men of such character would shrink from ordering. + +The Court decision first gives an outline of the case, using for the +most part the statements of the counsel for the defendant, Farr; so that +for practical purposes the following may be taken as the coal companies’ +own account of their domain: “Round the shaft of each mine are clustered +the tipple, the mine office, the shops, sheds and outbuildings; and +huddled close by, within a stone’s throw, cottages of the miners built +on the land of, and owned by, the mining company. All the dwellers in +the camp are employés of the mine. There is no other industry. This is +‘the camp.’ Of the eight ‘closed camps’ it appears that practically the +same conditions existed in all of them, and those conditions were in +general that members of the United Mine Workers of America, their +organisers or agitators, were prevented from coming into the camps, so +far as it was possible to keep them out, and to this end guards were +stationed 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 erected +at the beginning of the strike in October, 1913: Rouse and Cameron were +partly, but never entirely, enclosed by fences. It is admitted that all +persons entering these camps and precincts were required by the +companies 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 the +testimony is in agreement that no serious acts of violence occurred +thereafter, and that order was preserved up to and subsequent to the +election, and to the time of this trial. + +“It was under this condition that in July, 1914, the Board of County +Commissioners changed certain of the election precincts so as to +constitute each of such camps an election precinct, and with but one +exception where a few ranches were included, these precincts were made +to conform to the fences and lines around each camp, protected by fences +in some instances and with armed guards in all cases. Thus each election +precinct by this unparalleled act of the commissioners was placed +exclusively within and upon the private grounds and under the private +control of a coal corporation, which autocratically declared who should +and who should not enter upon the territory of this political entity of +the state, so purposely bounded by the county commissioners. + +“With but one exception all the lands and buildings within each of these +election precincts as so created, were owned or controlled by the coal +corporations; every person resident within such precincts was an employé +of these private corporations or their allied companies, with the single +exception: every judge, clerk or officer of election with the exception +of a saloon keeper, and partner of Farr, was an employé of the +coal-companies. + +“The polling places were upon the grounds, and in the buildings of these +companies; the registration lists were kept within the private offices +or buildings of such companies, and used and treated as their private +property. + +“Thus were the public election districts and the public election +machinery turned over to the absolute domination and imperial control of +private coal corporations, and used by them as absolutely and privately +as were their mines, to and for their own private purposes, and upon +which public territory no man might enter for either public or private +purpose, save and except by the express permission of these private +corporations. + +“This right to determine who should enter such so called election +precincts, appears from the record to have been exercised as against all +classes; merchants, tradesmen or what not, and whether the business of +such person was public or private. Indeed, it appears that in one +instance the governor and adjutant general of the state while on +official business, were denied admission to one of these closed camps. +And that on the day of election, the Democratic watchers and challengers +for Walsen Mine precinct, one of which was Neelley, the Democratic +candidate for sheriff, were forced to seek and secure a detail of +Federal soldiers to escort them into the precinct and to the polls, and +that such soldiers remained as such guard during the day and a part of +the night.... + +“But if there was any doubt concerning the condition of the closed camps +and precincts, and the exclusion of representatives of the Democratic +party from discussing the issues of the campaign within the precincts +comprising the closed camps, it is entirely removed by the testimony of +the witness Weitzel, for contestee (Farr). He testified that he was a +resident of Pueblo, and was manager of the Colorado Fuel and Iron +Company; that Rouse, Lester, Ideal, Cameron, Walsen, Pictou and McNally +are camps under his jurisdiction. That he had general charge of the +camps and that there was no company official in Colorado superior to him +in this respect except the president; that the superintendent and other +employés are under his supervision; that the Federal troops came about +the 1st of May, 1914, and continued until January, 1915. That in all +those camps he tried to keep out the people who were antagonistic to the +company’s interests; that it was private property and so treated by his +company; that through him the company and its officials assumed to +exercise authority as to who might or who might not enter; that if +persons could assure or satisfy the man at the gate, or the +superintendent that they were not connected with the United Mine +Workers, or in their employ as agitators, they were let into the camp. +That ‘no one we were fighting against got in for social intercourse or +any other’; that he and officials under him assumed to pass upon the +question of whether or not any person coming there came for the purpose +of agitation. That Mr. Mitchell, the chairman of the Democratic +committee, as he recalled it, was identified with the agitators, ran a +newspaper and was connected either directly or indirectly with the +United Mine Workers; that Mr. Neelley, Democratic candidate for sheriff, +was identified with the strikers, and that he would be considered as an +objectionable character. That when the Federal troops came, they +restored peace and normal conditions; there was no rioting after that, +there was no fear on the part of the company when the Federal soldiers +were here, except fear of agitation. Asked if he guarded the camp +against discussion, against the espousal of the cause of the company, he +replied, ‘We didn’t encourage it.’ The company would not encourage +organisers to come into the camp, no matter how peacefully they +conducted themselves; that the company did not permit men to come into +the camp to discuss with the employés certain principles, or to carry on +arguments with them or to appeal to their reason, or to discuss with +them things along reasonable lines, because it was known from experience +that if they were allowed to come in they would resort to threats of +violence. They might not resort to any violence at the time, but it +might result in the people becoming frightened and leaving, and they +were anxious to hold their employés. He was asked whether or not one had +business there depended upon the decision of the official in charge; he +replied that the superintendent probably would inquire of him what his +business was. That any one that Farr asked for a permit to enter the +camp would likely get it.... + +“There was but one attempt to hold a political meeting in the closed +precincts. 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 friend +of Mr. Jones, the assistant superintendent of the Oakview mine, and had +written 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 message +from the assistant superintendent, in which the latter inquired whether +witness was coming up there to cause any trouble, and witness replied, +certainly not, and if the superintendent felt that way they would not +come. Had advised the superintendent that he and others were going to +hold a political meeting for the Democratic party. Jones, the +superintendent, stated that witness should come to the office that night +before he went to the school house for the purpose of the meeting; when +witness arrived at the meeting there were about six or eight English +speaking 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 school +house, the superintendent stopped and talked with them and they turned +back to the camp. This happened several times: as soon as they talked +with Morgan they turned back. After he saw that, witness went into the +school house and said that it was no use to hold any meeting; that it +seemed that nobody was allowed to come. This meeting was supposed to be +in a public school house on the company property. Had to get permission +from the superintendent of the Oakview mining Company to hold said +political meeting.”.... + +“It appears that the number of registered voters in the closed precincts +was very largely in excess of the number of votes cast, and this of +itself was sufficient to demand an open and fair investigation as to the +qualifications of the alleged voters. + +“It appears from the testimony that in these closed precincts many of +those who voted were unable to speak or read the English language, and +that in numerous instances, the election judges assisted such, by +marking the ballots for them in violation of the law. Again, it appears +that the ballots were printed so that.... (The decision here goes on to +explain in detail a device whereby the ballot was so printed that voting +could be controlled with the help of a card device.) Thus such voters +were not choosing candidates, but, under the direction of the companies, +were simply placing the cross where they found the particular letter R +on the ballot, so that the ballot was not an expression of opinion or +judgment, not an intelligent exercise of suffrage, but plainly a +dictated coal company vote, as much so as if the agents of these +companies had marked the ballots without the intervention of the voter. +No more fraudulent and infamous prostitution of the ballot is +conceivable.... + +“Counsel contend that the closed precincts were an ‘industrial +necessity,’ and for such reason the conduct of the coal companies during +the campaign was justified. However such conduct may be viewed when +confined to the private property of such corporations in their private +operation, the fact remains that there is no justification when they +were dealing with such territory after it had been dedicated to a public +use, and particularly involving the right of the people to exercise +their duties and powers as electors in a popular government. + +“The fact appears that the members of the board of county commissioners +and all other county officers were Republicans, and as stated by counsel +for the contestees, the success of the Republican candidates was +considered by the coal companies, vital to their interests. The close +relationship of the coal companies and the Republican officials and +candidates appears to have been so marked both before and during the +campaign, as to justify the conclusion that such officers regarded their +duty to the coal companies as paramount to their duty to the public +service. To say that the closed precincts were not so created to suit +the convenience and interests of these corporations, or that they were +not so formed with the advice and consent of these corporations, is to +discredit human intelligence, and to deny human experience. The plain +purpose of the formation of the new precincts was that the coal +companies might have opportunity to conduct and control the elections +therein, just as such elections were conducted. The irresistible +conclusion is that these close precincts were so formed by the county +commissioners with the connivance of the representatives of the coal +companies, if not by their express command. + +“There can be no free, open and fair election as contemplated by the +constitution, where private industrial corporations so throttle public +opinion, deny the free exercise of choice by sovereign electors, dictate +and control all election officers, prohibit public discussion of public +questions, and imperially command what citizens may and what citizens +may not, peacefully and for lawful purposes, enter upon election or +public territory.... + +“We find no such example of fraud within the books, and must seek the +letter and spirit of the law in a free government, as a scale in which +to weigh such conduct.... + +“The denial of the right of peaceful assemblage, can have been for no +other purpose than to influence the election. There was no disturbance +in any of these precincts after they were created, up to the time of the +election, and up to the time of this trial. The Federal troops were +present at all times to preserve the peace and to protect life and +property. There was no reason to anticipate any disturbance. Therefore +this bold denial was an inexcusable and corrupt violation of the natural +and inalienable rights of the citizens. + +“The defence relies not upon conflicting evidence, but upon the +contention 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 of +inherent and constitutional rights of citizens being justified by +‘military necessity,’ but this we believe is the first time in our +experience when the violation of the fundamental rights of freemen has +been attempted to be justified by the plea of ‘industrial necessity.’ + +“Even if we were to concede that there may be some palliation in the +plea of military necessity on the theory that such acts purport to be +acts of the government itself, through its military arm and with the +purpose of preserving the public peace and safety: yet that a private +corporation, with its privately armed forces, may violate the most +sacred right of the citizenship of the state and find lawful excuse in +the plea of private ‘industrial necessity’ savours too much of anarchy +to find approval by courts of justice. + +“This case clearly comes within another exception to the rule, in that +it is plain that the findings were influenced by the bias and prejudice +of the trial judge. + +“A careful reading of the record discloses the rejection by the court of +so much palpably pertinent and competent testimony offered by the +contestors, as to force the conclusion that the trial judge was +influenced by bias and prejudice, to the extent at least, charged in the +application for a change of venue, and sufficient in itself to justify a +reversal of judgment.... + +“For the foregoing reasons the judgment of the court in each case before +us, is reversed, and the entire poll in the said precincts of +Niggerhead, Ravenwood, Walsen Mine, Oakview, Pryor, Rouse and Cameron is +annulled, and held for naught, and the election in each of said +precincts is hereby set aside. This leaves a substantial and +unquestioned majority for each of the contestors in the county, and +which entitles each contestor to be declared elected to the office for +which he was a candidate. + +“We find further, that J. B. Farr, the defendant in error, was not and +is not the duly elected sheriff of Huerfano county, and that E. L. +Neelley, the plaintiff in error, was and is the duly elected sheriff of +said county. It is therefore ordered that the said county, and that the +said E. L. Neelley, immediately and upon qualification as required by +law, enter and discharge the duties of the said office of sheriff of +Huerfano county....” + +So much for the court opinion upon coal-camp politics. In relation +thereto, the writer has only one comment to offer. Let the reader not +drop the matter with the idea that because one set of corrupt officials +have been turned out of office in one American county, therefore justice +has been vindicated, and there is no longer need to be concerned about +the conditions portrayed in “King Coal.” The defeat of the “King of +Huerfano County” is but one step in a long road which the miners of +Colorado have to travel if ever they are to be free men. The industrial +power of the great corporations remains untouched by this decision; and +this power is greater than any political power ever wielded by the +government of Huerfano County, or even of the state of Colorado. This +industrial power is a deep, far-spreading root; and so long as it is +allowed to thrive, it will send up again and again the poisonous plant +of political “malconduct, fraud and corruption.” The citizens and +workers of such industrial communities, whether in Colorado, in West +Virginia, Alabama, Michigan or Minnesota, in the Chicago stock-yards, +the steel-mills of Pittsburg, the woollen-mills of Lawrence or the +silk-mills of Paterson, will find that they have neither peace nor +freedom, until they have abolished the system of production for profit, +and established in the field of industry what they are supposed to have +already in the field of politics--a government of the people, by the +people, 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 Workers +representing members of that organisation employed by the Colorado Fuel +and Iron Company, have telegraphed their national officers asking +permission to strike. + +At the morning session a resolution was adopted expressing +disapprobation of the action of J. F. Welborn, president of the fuel +company, for failure to attend the meeting, which was a part of the +“peace programme” to prevent industrial differences in the State during +the war. + +The grievances of the men, according to John McLennan, spokesman for +them, centre about the operation of the so-called “Rockefeller plan” at +the mines. McLennan said the failure of Mr. Welborn to attend the +meeting and discuss these grievances with the men precipitated the +strike agitation. + +THE END + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KING COAL *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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