King Coal

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"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 employes 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 fiancee; 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 role 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 employes. 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!"

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