King Coal | Page 3

them a-roll, this merry old soul-- The wheels of industree;
A-roll and a-roll, for his pipe and his bowl And his college facultee!
"Oh, Mary-Jane, come out in the lane, The moon is a-shinin' in the old
pecan; Oh, Mary-Jane, don't you hear me a-sayin' I'll sing you the song
of Harrigan!
"So hurrah for 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