As it happened, however, discussion of this list and the method of
giving it to the world was cut short by a more urgent matter. Jack David
came in with news of fresh trouble at the pit-mouth. The new fan was
being put in place; but they were slow about it, so slow that some
people had become convinced that they did not mean to start the fan at
all, but were keeping the mine sealed to prevent the fire from
spreading. A group of such malcontents had presumed to go to Mr.
Carmichael, the deputy state mine-inspector, to urge him to take some
action; and the leader of these protestants, Huszar, the Austrian, who
had been one of Hal’s check-weighman group, had been taken into custody
and marched at double-quick to the gate of the stockade!
Jack David declared furthermore that he knew a carpenter who was working
in the fan-house, and who said that no haste whatever was being made.
All the men at the fan-house shared that opinion; the mine was sealed,
and would stay sealed until the company was sure the fire was out.
“But,” argued Hal, “if they were to open it, the fire would spread; and
wouldn’t that prevent rescue work?”
“Not at all,” declared “Big Jack.” He explained that by reversing the
fan they could draw the smoke up through the air-course, which would
clear the main passages for a time. “But, you see, some coal might catch
fire, and some timbers; there might be falls of rock so they couldn’t
work some of the rooms again.”
“How long will they keep the mine sealed?” cried Hal, in consternation.
“Nobody can say. In a big mine like that, a fire might smoulder for a
week.”
“Everybody be dead!” cried Rosa Minetti, wringing her hands in a sudden
access of grief.
Hal turned to Olson. “Would they possibly do such a thing?”
“It’s been done--more than once,” was the organiser’s reply.
“Did you never hear about Cherry, Illinois?” asked David. “They did it
there, and more than three hundred people lost their lives.” He went on
to tell that dreadful story, known to every coal-miner. They had sealed
the mine, while women fainted and men tore their clothes in frenzy--some
going insane. They had kept it sealed for two weeks, and when they
opened it, there were twenty-one men still alive!
“They did the same thing in Diamondville, Wyoming,” added Olson. “They
built up a barrier, and when they took it away they found a heap of dead
men, who had crawled to it and torn their fingers to the bone trying to
break through.”
“My God!” cried Hal, springing to his feet. “And this man
Carmichael--would he stand for that?”
“He’d tell you they were doing their best,” said “Big Jack.” “And maybe
he thinks they are. But you’ll see--something’ll keep happening; they’ll
drag on from day to day, and they’ll not start the fan till they’re
ready.”
“Why, it’s murder!” cried Hal.
“It’s business,” said Tom Olson, quietly.
Hal looked from one to another of the faces of these working people. Not
one but had friends in that trap; not one but might be in the same trap
to-morrow!
“You have to stand it!” he exclaimed, half to himself.
“Don’t you see the guards at the pit-mouth?” answered David. “Don’t you
see the guns sticking out of their pockets?”
“They bring in more guards this morning,” put in Jerry Minetti. “Rosa,
she see them get off.”
“They know what they doin’!” said Rosa. “They only fraid we find it out!
They told Mrs. Zamboni she keep away or they send her out of camp. And
old Mrs. Jonotch--her husband and three sons inside!”
“They’re getting rougher and rougher,” declared Mrs. David. “That big
fellow they call Pete, that came up from Pedro--the way he’s handling
the women is a shame!”
“I know him,” put in Olson; “Pete Hanun. They had him in Sheridan when
the union first opened headquarters. He smashed one of our organisers in
the mouth and broke four of his teeth. They say he has a jail-record.”
All through the previous year at college Hal had listened to lectures
upon political economy, filled with the praises of a thing called
“Private Ownership.” This Private Ownership developed initiative and
economy; it kept the wheels of industry a-roll, it kept fat the
pay-rolls of college faculties; it accorded itself with the sacred laws
of supply and demand, it was the basis of the progress and prosperity
wherewith America had been blessed. And here suddenly Hal found himself
face to face with the reality of it; he saw its wolfish eyes glaring
into his own, he felt its smoking hot breath in his face, he saw its
gleaming fangs and claw-like fingers, dripping with the blood of men and
women and children. Private Ownership of coal-mines! Private Ownership
of sealed-up entrances and non-existent escape-ways! Private Ownership
of fans which did not start, of sprinklers which did not sprinkle.
Private Ownership of clubs and revolvers, and of thugs and ex-convicts
to use them, driving away rescuers and shutting up agonised widows and
orphans in their homes! Oh, the serene and well-fed priests of Private
Ownership, chanting in academic halls the praises of the bloody Demon!
Suddenly Hal stopped still. Something had risen in him, the existence of
which he had never suspected. There was a new look upon his face, his
voice was deep as a strong man’s when he spoke: “I am going to make them
open that mine!”
They looked at him. They were all of them close to the border of
hysteria, but they caught the strange note in his utterance. “I am going
to make them open that mine!”
“How?” asked Olson.
“The public doesn’t know about this thing. If the story got out, there’d
be such a clamour, it couldn’t go on!”
“But how will you get it out?”
“I’ll give it to the newspapers! They can’t suppress such a thing--I
don’t care how prejudiced they are!”
“But do you think they’d believe what a miner’s buddy tells them?” asked
Mrs. David.
“I’ll find a way to make them believe me,” said Hal. “I’m going to make
them open that mine!”