A man emerged from the shadows and walked by them. He passed within three feet of Hal, and peered at him, narrowly. Fortunately there was no moon; Hal could not see the man’s face, and hoped the man could not see his.
Meantime Keating was proceeding with his discourse. “You understand, Mr. MacKellar,” he was saying, “sometimes it’s difficult to find out the truth in a situation like this. When the interests are filling their newspapers with falsehoods and exaggerations, it’s a temptation for us to publish falsehoods and exaggerations on the other side. But we find in the long run that it pays best to publish the truth, Mr. MacKellar—we can stand by it, and there’s no comeback.”
Hal, it must be admitted, was not paying much attention to this edifying sermon. He was looking ahead, to where the alley debouched onto the street. It was the street behind MacKellar’s house, and only a block from the railroad-track.
He dared not look behind, but he was straining his ears. Suddenly he heard a shout, in John Edstrom’s voice. “Run! Run!”
In a flash, Hal dropped the two crutches, and started down the alley, Keating at his heels. They heard cries behind them, and a voice, sounding quite near, commanded, “Halt!” They had reached the end of the alley, and were in the act of swerving, when a shot rang out and there was a crash of glass in a house beyond them on the far side of the street.
Farther on was a vacant lot with a path running across it. Following this, they dodged behind some shanties, and came to another street—and so to the railroad tracks. There was a long line of freight-cars before them, and they ran between two of these, and climbing over the couplings, saw a great engine standing, its headlight gleaming full in their eyes. They sprang in front of it, and alongside the train, passing a tender, then a baggage-car, then a parlour-car.
“Here we are!” exclaimed Keating, who was puffing like a bellows.
Hal saw that there were only three more cars to the train; also, he saw a man in a blue uniform standing at the steps. He dashed towards him. “Your car’s on fire!” he cried.
“What?” exclaimed the man. “Where?”
“Here!” cried Hal; and in a flash he had sprung past the other, up the steps and into the car.
There was a long, narrow corridor, to be recognised as the kitchen portion of a dining-car; at the other end of this corridor was a swinging door, and to this Hal leaped. He heard the conductor shouting to him to stop, but he paid no heed. He slipped off his overcoat and hat; and then, pushing open the door, he entered a brightly lighted apartment—and the presence of the Coal King’s son.
XII
White linen and cut glass of the dining-saloon shone brilliantly under electric lights, softened to the eye by pink shades. Seated at the tables were half a dozen young men and as many young ladies, all in evening costume; also two or three older ladies. They had begun the first course of their meal, and were laughing and chatting, when suddenly came this unexpected visitor, clad in coal-stained miner’s jumpers. He was not disturbing in the manner of his entry; but immediately behind him came a fat man, perspiring, wild of aspect, and wheezing like an old fashioned steam-engine; behind him came the conductor of the train, in a no less evident state of agitation. So, of course, conversation ceased. The young ladies turned in their chairs, while several of the young men sprang to their feet.
There followed a silence: until finally one of the young men took a step forward. “What’s this?” he demanded, as one who had a right to demand.
Hal advanced towards the speaker, a slender youth, correct in appearance, but not distinguished looking. “Hello, Percy!” said Hal.
A look of amazement came upon the other’s face. He stared, but seemed unable to believe what he saw. And then suddenly came a cry from one of the young ladies; the one having hair the colour of molasses taffy when you’ve pulled it—but all fluffy and wonderful, with stardust in it. Her cheeks were pink and cream, and her brown eyes gazed, wide open, full of wonder. She wore a dinner gown of soft olive green, with a cream white scarf of some filmy material thrown about her bare shoulders.
She had started to her feet. “It’s Hal!” she cried.
“Hal Warner!” echoed young Harrigan. “Why, what in the world—?”
He was interrupted by a clamour outside. “Wait a moment,” said Hal, quietly. “I think someone else is coming in.”
The door was pushed violently open. It was pushed so violently that Billy Keating and the conductor were thrust to one side; and Jeff Cotton appeared in the entrance.
The camp-marshal was breathless, his face full of the passion of the hunt. In his right hand he carried a revolver. He glared about him, and saw the two men he was chasing; also he saw the Coal King’s son, and the rest of the astonished company. He stood, stricken dumb.
The door was pushed again, forcing him aside, and two more men crowded in, both of them carrying revolvers in their hands. The foremost was Pete Hanun, and he also stood staring. The “breaker of teeth” had two teeth of his own missing, and when his prizefighter’s jaw dropped down, the deficiency became conspicuous. It was probably his first entrance into society, and he was like an overgrown boy caught in the jam-closet.
Percy Harrigan’s manner became distinctly imperious. “What does this mean?” he demanded.
It was Hal who answered. “I am seeking a criminal, Percy.”
“What?” There were little cries of alarm from the women.
“Yes, a criminal; the man who sealed up the mine.”
“Sealed up the mine?” echoed the other. “What
