King Coal

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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-employes, 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 he 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."

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