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Updated: June 22, 2025
He was surprised that such things should be happening while Percy Harrigan's train was in the village. He was considering whether he should go to Percy, or whether a hint to Cotton or Cartwright would not be sufficient. "Mary," he said, in a quiet voice, "you needn't distress yourself so. We can get better treatment for the women, I'm sure." But her sobbing went on. "What can ye do?
Harrigan, me an' a few of the rest, we know what's been done, an' some of us have thought wouldn't it be a sort of joke, maybe, if sometime what Henshaw has done to others was done to himself, what?" The sweat was standing out on Harrigan's face wet and cold. It seemed to him that through the darkness he could make out whole troops of those broken men littering the decks.
Had he been visiting the camps? He questioned so persistently, and came back so often to the subject, that at last it dawned over Edward what this meant he was receiving the attention of a "spotter!" Strange to say, the circumstance caused Edward more irritation against Peter Harrigan's regime than all his brother's eloquence about oppression at North Valley.
All my life, I've been living on the labour of coal-miners, and I've never taken the trouble to go near them, to see how my money was got!" "But, Hal! These aren't your people! They are Mr. Harrigan's people!" "Yes," he said, "but it's all the same. They toil, and we live on their toil, and take it as a matter of course." "But what can one do about it, Hal?"
They found him two days later in the cellar of the man he had killed." "Well, you can go look in Tim Harrigan's cellar if you've a mind to. Dave and I are goin' up the ditch," said the old cattleman, smiling. "I'll tag along, seein' as I've been drug in this far. All I'll say is that when we get to the bottom of this, we'll find it was done by fellows you'd never suspect. I know human nature.
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.
As a rule, he was a model of what the tailor's art could do, but just now there was something abnormal about his attire as well as his manner. Hal's anxiety had been increasing all the way up the street. "What's the matter with Dad?" he cried. "Dad's all right," was the answer "that is, for the moment." "Then what ?" "Peter Harrigan's on his way back from the East.
They had looked for a quick end to the struggle, but now they saw that the fighters were mated. The greater strength was McTee's; the greater purpose was Harrigan's. McTee fought to crush and conquer; Harrigan fought to kill. The blows of the captain flung Harrigan here and there, yet he came back to meet the attack, slinking with sure, catlike steps.
Harrigan reminded him of a seal he had once seen in an aquarium tank: out of his element, but merry-eyed and swimming round and round as if determined to please everybody. "It will be a fine night," said the Italian, pausing at Harrigan's bench. "Every night is fine here, Barone," replied Harrigan. "Why, they had me up in Marienbad a few weeks ago, and I'm not over it yet.
"Honey, when you buy books for father, be sure they are by Dumas or Haggard or Doyle. Otherwise he will never read a line." "And I try so hard!" Tears came into Mrs. Harrigan's eyes. "There, there, Molly, old girl!" soothed the outlaw. "I'll read the book. I know I'm a stupid old stumbling-block, but it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, that is, at the ring of the gong.
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