King Coal, and his fat pay-roll, And his wheels of industree! Hurrah for his pipe, and hurrah for his bowl-- And hurrah for you and me!
"Oh, Liza-Ann, come out with me, The moon is a-shinin'--"
And so on and on--as long as the moon was a-shinin' on a college campus. It was a mixture of happy nonsense and that questioning with which modern youth has begun to trouble its elders. As a marching tune, the song was a trifle swift for the grades of a mountain canyon; Warner could stop and shout to the canyon-walls, and listen to their answer, and then march on again. He had youth in his heart, and love and curiosity; also he had some change in his trousers' pocket, and a ten dollar bill, for extreme emergencies, sewed up in his belt. If a photographer for Peter Harrigan's General Fuel Company could have got a snap-shot of him that morning, it might have served as a "portrait of a coal-miner" in any "prosperity" publication.
But the climb was a stiff one, and before the end the traveller became aware of the weight of his boots, and sang no more. Just as the sun was sinking up the canyon, he came upon his destination--a gate across the road, with a sign upon it:
PINE CREEK COAL CO.
PRIVATE PROPERTY
TRESPASSING FORBIDDEN
Hal approached the gate, which was of iron bars, and padlocked. After standing for a moment to get ready his surly voice, he kicked upon the gate and a man came out of a shack inside.
"What do you want?" said he.
"I want to get in. I'm looking for a job."
"Where do you come from?"
"From Pedro."
"Where you been working?"
"I never worked in a mine before."
"Where did you work?"
"In a grocery-store."
"What grocery-store?"
"Peterson & Co., in Western City."
The guard came closer to the gate and studied him through the bars.
"Hey, Bill!" he called, and another man came out from the cabin. "Here's a guy says he worked in a grocery, and he's lookin' for a job."
"Where's your papers?" demanded Bill.
Every one had told Hal that labour was scarce in the mines, and that the companies were ravenous for men; he had supposed that a workingman would only have to knock, and it would be opened unto him. "They didn't give me no papers," he said, and added, hastily, "I got drunk and they fired me." He felt quite sure that getting drunk would not bar one from a coal camp.
But the two made no move to open the gate. The second man studied him deliberately from top to toe, and Hal was uneasily aware of possible sources of suspicion. "I'm all right," he declared. "Let me in, and I'll show you."
Still the two made no move. They looked at each other, and then Bill answered, "We don't need no hands."
"But," exclaimed Hal, "I saw a sign down the canyon--"
"That's an old sign," said Bill.
"But I walked all the way up here!"
"You'll find it easier walkin' back."
"But--it's night!"
"Scared of the dark, kid?" inquired Bill, facetiously.
"Oh, say!" replied Hal. "Give a fellow a chance! Ain't there some way I can pay for my keep--or at least for a bunk to-night?"
"There's nothin' for you," said Bill, and turned and went into the cabin.
The other man waited and watched, with a decidedly hostile look. Hal strove to plead with him, but thrice he repeated, "Down the canyon with you." So at last Hal gave up, and moved down the road a piece and sat down to reflect.
It really seemed an absurdly illogical proceeding, to post a notice, "Hands Wanted," in conspicuous places on the roadside, causing a man to climb thirteen miles up a mountain canyon, only to be turned off without explanation. Hal was convinced that there must be jobs inside the stockade, and that if only he could get at the bosses he could persuade them. He got up and walked down the road a quarter of a mile, to where the railroad-track crossed it, winding up the canyon. A train of "empties" was passing, bound into the camp, the cars rattling and bumping as the engine toiled up the grade. This suggested a solution of the difficulty.
It was already growing dark. Crouching slightly, Hal approached the cars, and when he was in the shadows, made a leap and swung onto one of them. It took but a second to clamber in, and he lay flat and waited, his heart thumping.
Before a minute had passed he heard a shout, and looking over, he saw the Cerberus of the gate running down a path to the track, his companion, Bill, just behind him. "Hey! come out of there!" they yelled; and Bill leaped, and caught the car in which Hal was riding.
The latter saw that the game was up, and sprang to the ground on the other
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