King Coal | Page 7

of bread and water, rather than work. If everybody would do the same, he said, they would soon "bust things."
Hal took a fancy to this spontaneous revolutionist, and travelled with him for a couple of days, in the course of which he pumped him as to details of the life of a miner. Most of the companies used regular employment agencies, as the guard had mentioned; but the trouble was, these agencies got something from your pay for a long time--the bosses were "in cahoots" with them. When Hal wondered if this were not against the law, "Cut it out, Bo!" said his companion. "When you've had a job for a while, you'll know that the law in a coal-camp is what your boss tells you." The hobo went on to register his conviction that when one man has the giving of jobs, and other men have to scramble for them, the law would never have much to say in the deal. Hal judged this a profound observation, and wished that it might be communicated to the professor of political economy at Harrigan.
On the second night of his acquaintance with "Dutch Mike," their "jungle" was raided by a constable with half a dozen deputies; for a determined effort was being made just then to drive vagrants from the neighbourhood--or to get them to work in the mines. Hal's friend, who slept with one eye open, made a break in the darkness, and Hal followed him, getting under the guard of the raiders by a foot-ball trick. They left their food and blankets behind them, but "Dutch Mike" made light of this, and lifted a chicken from a roost to keep them cheerful through the night hours, and stole a change of underclothing off a clothes-line the next day. Hal ate the chicken, and wore the underclothing, thus beginning his career in crime.
Parting from "Dutch Mike," he went back to Pedro. The hobo had told him that saloon-keepers nearly always had friends in the coal-camps, and could help a fellow to a job. So Hal began enquiring, and the second one replied, Yes, he would give him a letter to a man at North Valley, and if he got the job, the friend would deduct a dollar a month from his pay. Hal agreed, and set out upon another tramp up another canyon, upon the strength of a sandwich "bummed" from a ranch-house at the entrance to the valley. At another stockaded gate of the General Fuel Company he presented his letter, addressed to a person named O'Callahan, who turned out also to be a saloon-keeper.
The guard did not even open the letter, but passed Hal in at sight of it, and he sought out his man and applied for work. The man said he would help him, but would have to deduct a dollar a month for himself, as well as a dollar for his friend in Pedro. Hal kicked at this, and they bartered back and forth; finally, when Hal turned away and threatened to appeal directly to the "super," the saloon-keeper compromised on a dollar and a half.
"You know mine-work?" he asked.
"Brought up at it," said Hal, made wise, now, in the ways of the world.
"Where did you work?"
Hal named several mines, concerning which he had learned something from the hoboes. He was going by the name of "Joe Smith," which he judged likely to be found on the payroll of any mine. He had more than a week's growth of beard to disguise him, and had picked up some profanity as well.
The saloon-keeper took him to interview Mr. Alec Stone, pit-boss in Number Two mine, who inquired promptly: "You know anything about mules?"
"I worked in a stable," said Hal, "I know about horses."
"Well, mules is different," said the man. "One of my stable-men got the colic the other day, and I don't know if he'll ever be any good again."
"Give me a chance," said Hal. "I'll manage them."
The boss looked him over. "You look like a bright chap," said he. "I'll pay you forty-five a month, and if you make good I'll make it fifty."
"All right, sir. When do I start in?"
"You can't start too quick to suit me. Where's your duds?"
"This is all I've got," said Hal, pointing to the bundle of stolen underwear in his hand.
"Well, chuck it there in the corner," said the man; then suddenly he stopped, and looked at Hal, frowning. "You belong to any union?"
"Lord, no!"
"Did you ever belong to any union?"
"No, sir. Never."
The man's gaze seemed to imply that Hal was lying, and that his secret soul was about to be read. "You have to swear to that, you know, before you can work here."
"All right," said Hal, "I'm willing."
"I'll see you about it to-morrow," said the other. "I ain't