"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, navely. "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!