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Some night you'll have your house set afire. But I said, 'Pet a nigger, and you've got a spoiled nigger. I'd say, 'Nigger, don't you give me any of your imp, or I'll kick the breeches off you. And they knew I was a gentleman, and they stepped lively." "Have another drink," said Hal. The pit-boss drank, and becoming more sociable, told nigger stories.
There went blue-eyed Tim Rafferty to look for his father, and black-eyed "Andy," the Greek boy, whose father had perished in a similar disaster years ago; there went Rovetta, and Carmino, the pit-boss, Jerry's cousin. One by one their names ran through the crowd, as of heroes marching out to battle. Looking about, Hal saw some of the guests of the Harrigan party.
Pay me two-twenty-five a day. Then no more job." "Have you tried the mines?" "What? Me? They got me all right! I go up to San Jose. Pit-boss say, 'Get the hell out of here, you old groucher! You don't get no more jobs in this district!" Hal looked Mike over, and saw that his dirty old face was drawn and white, belying the feeble cheerfulness of his words.
The part he had played in the big strike had never been forgotten; the bosses had let him work again, partly because they had needed him at a rush time, and partly because the pit-boss happened to be a personal friend. "Tell him about the big strike," said Mary. "He's new in this district."
Encountering him suddenly, Hal started, like a pick-pocket who runs into a policeman. "Hello, kid," said the pit-boss. "Hello, Mr. Stone," was the reply. "I want to talk to you," said the boss. "All right, sir." And then, under his breath, "He's got me!" "Come up to my house," said Stone; and Hal followed, feeling as if hand-cuffs were already on his wrists.
To-morrow you get a sprained wrist, so you can't work for a few days, and that'll give you a chance to bum round and hear what the men are saying. Meantime, I'll see you get your wages." "That sounds all right," said Hal; but showing only a small part of his satisfaction! The pit-boss rose from his chair and knocked the ashes from his pipe. "Mind you I want the goods.
Now the man was in another room, where he had taken out over forty car-loads of rock, and been allowed only three dollars for it. No one who watched his face when the pit-boss passed would doubt that this man would be ready to take his chances in a movement of protest.
O'Callahan, the proprietor, came forward with his best society smile and joined them, and at Hal's invitation they ordered whiskies. "No, you stick to your job," continued the pit-boss. "You stay by it, and when you've learned to manage mules, I'll make a boss out of you, and let you manage men." Some of the bystanders tittered. The pit-boss poured down his whiskey, and set the glass on the bar.
"You ain't heard any talk about it?" inquired the pit-boss. "Nothing at all, sir. I never pay much attention to politics it ain't in my line." "Well, that's the way I like to hear a miner talk!" said the pit-boss, with heartiness. "If they all had sense enough to leave politics to the politicians, they'd be a sight better off. What they need is to tend to their own jobs."
But the first thing we knew, a bunch of fellers was taken into town and got to swear they'd voted the Republican ticket in our camp. The Republican papers were full of it, and some fool judge ordered a recount, and we had to get busy over night and mark up a new lot of ballots. It gave us a lot of bother!" The pit-boss laughed, and Hal joined him discreetly.
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