King Coal

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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 employes."

"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!"

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