King Coal

this money, and they say, ‘Use it to build up the union. Use it to help the men that aren’t organised⁠—take them in, so they won’t beat down our wages and scab on us. But don’t waste it, for God’s sake; we have to work hard to make it, and if we don’t see results, you’ll get no more out of us.’ Don’t you see how that is, man? And how it weighs on us, worse even then the fear that maybe we’ll lose our poor salaries⁠—though you might refuse to believe anything so good of us? You don’t need to talk to me like I was Peter Harrigan’s son. I was a spragger when I was ten years old, and I ain’t been out of the pits so long that I’ve forgot the feeling. I assure you, the thing that keeps me awake at night ain’t the fear of not gettin’ a living, for I give myself a bit of education, working nights, and I know I could always turn out and earn what I need; but it’s wondering whether I’m spending the miners’ money the best way, whether maybe I mightn’t save them a little misery if I hadn’t ’a’ done this or had ’a’ done that. When I come down on that sleeper last night, here’s what I was thinking, Tim Rafferty⁠—all the time I listened to the train bumping⁠—‘Now I got to see some more of the suffering, I got to let some good men turn against us, because they can’t see why we should get salaries while they get the sack. How am I going to show them that I’m working for them⁠—working as hard as I know how⁠—and that I’m not to blame for their trouble?’ ”

Here Wauchope broke in. “There’s no use talking any more. I see we’re up against it. We’ll not trouble you, Moylan.”

“You trouble me,” cried Moylan, “unless you stand by the movement!”

The other laughed bitterly. “You’ll never know what I do. It’s the road for me⁠—and you know it!”

“Well, wherever you go, it’ll be the same; either you’ll be fighting for the union, or you’ll be a weight that we have to carry.”

The young leader turned from one to another of the committee, pleading with them not to be embittered by this failure, but to turn it to their profit, going on with the work of building up the solidarity of the miners. Every man had to make his sacrifices, to pay his part of the price. The thing of importance was that every man who was discharged should be a spark of unionism, carrying the flame of revolt to a new part of the country. Let each one do his part, and there would soon be no place to which the masters could send for “scabs.”

XXI

There was one member of this committee whom Hal watched with especial anxiety⁠—Mary Burke. She had not yet said a word; while the others argued and protested, she sat with her lips set and her hands clenched. Hal knew what rage this failure must bring to her. She had risen and struggled and hoped, and the result was what she had always said it would be⁠—nothing! Now he saw her, with eyes large and dark with fatigue, fixed on this fiery young labour-leader. He knew that a war must be going on within her. Would she drop out entirely now? It was the test of her character⁠—as it was the test of the characters of all of them.

“If only we’re strong enough and brave enough,” Jim Moylan was saying, “we can use our defeats to educate our people and bring them together. Right now, if we can make the men at North Valley see what we’re doing, they won’t go back beaten, they won’t be bitter against the union, they’ll only go back to wait. And ain’t that a way to beat the bosses⁠—to hold our jobs, and keep the union alive, till we’ve got into all the camps, and can strike and win?”

There was a pause; then Mary spoke. “How’re you meanin’ to tell the men?” Her voice was without emotion, but nevertheless, Hal’s heart leaped. Whether Mary had any hope or not, she was going to stay in line with the rest of the ants!

Johann Hartman explained his idea. He would have circulars printed in several languages and distributed secretly in the camp, ordering the men back to work. But Jerry met this suggestion with a prompt no. The people would not believe the circulars, they would suspect the bosses of having them printed. Hadn’t the bosses done worse than that, “framing up” a letter from Joe Smith to balk the check-weighman movement? The only thing that would help would be for some of the committee to get into the camp and see the men face to face.

“And it got to be quick!” Jerry insisted. “They get notice to work in morning, and them that don’t be fired. They be the best men, too⁠—men we want to save.”

Other members of the committee spoke up, agreeing with this. Said Rusick, the Slav, slow-witted and slow-spoken, “Them fellers get mighty damn sore if they lose their job and don’t got no strike.” And Zammakis, the Greek, quick and nervous, “We say strike; we got to say no strike.”

What could they do? There was, in the first place, the difficulty of getting away from the hotel, which was being watched by the “spotters.” Hartman suggested that if they went out all together and scattered, the detectives could not follow all of them. Those who escaped might get into North Valley by hiding in the “empties” which went up to the mine.

But Moylan pointed out that the company would be anticipating this; and Rusick, who had once been a hobo, put in: “They sure search them cars. They give us plenty hell, too, when they catch us.”

Yes, it would be a dangerous mission. Mary spoke again. “Maybe a lady could do it