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?--"